28 comments/ 146391 views/ 195 favorites Hairy Men By: Sabledrake "Wildlife photography?!? You've got to be kidding me. Why on earth would you want to do that? I can't believe you'd give up your career to take pictures of animals! You're a fashion photographer! You spend your days in a nice air-conditioned, well-lit studio taking pictures of hunks in their underwear!" "Are you done yet?" asked Jaylee when her roommate stopped for breath. Marion, red in the face and breathing hard, shook her head. "In their underwear!" she repeated. "Or on a beach someplace, taking pictures of hunks in swimsuits! Teeny little thongs! Oiled bodies! Bulging packages! And you get paid for it. Good money, too! Millions of people would kill for a chance at a job like that. You can't really be planning to throw it all away." "Except that I am. It's not all as great as you think." "Oh, come on!" Marion picked up a stack of magazines and catalogs from their coffee table and waved them in Jaylee's face. The pages flapped, fanning her with a breeze that smelled of cologne samples. Images fluttered past. Male models. Posing to display chiseled abs, sculpted chests, rock-hard buttocks. Strong jaws. Brooding expressions. Smoky come-hither bedroom eyes. Lots of skin on display. Bronze skin. Mocha skin. Dark chocolate skin. All of it smooth, hairless, gleaming. And, yes... packages. Bulging packages. "Look at them," Marion said. "I know women who go out to clubs and fork over a cover charge and a two-drink minimum for the privilege of stuffing more money down the pants of guys who don't look half this good. And you not only get to take pictures, but you get paid to do it! And the perks..." "What perks?" Marion gave her a lewd grin. "Oh, come on... you can tell me. Nearly-naked man, exotic location, hot babe like you..." "You make it sound like it's just me and the model. There's at least half a dozen people around whenever I do a shoot. Lighting crews, make-up artists, wardrobe –" "What wardrobe?" "And I'm not such a hot babe." "Oh, sure, right." Marion rolled her eyes and addressed an unseen audience. "She stands there telling me that, with those big eyes, and all that dark hair, those gorgeous tits, that ass... not to mention a mouth that belongs in the dictionary illustration for 'fellatio.' Lips to die for, and that little beauty mark –" "You're starting to make me nervous. Besides, it's not like I'd get anywhere. Most of them are gay, anyway." This derailed Marion only slightly. "So? You can still dream! That's what a vibrator is for. How likely is it that I'm ever going to seduce Tom Cruise? Do I let that stop me from using my imagination?" Jaylee laughed despite her exasperation. "But, see, Mare, here's the thing. Tom Cruise turns you on." "What are you telling me?" Marion waved the magazines again. "And these guys do nothing for you? They don't rev your engine? Maybe I'm the one who should be getting nervous, then." "It isn't like that. These guys..." She took a catalog, one that somehow thought it could sell men's clothes by showing men hardly wearing them. "They don't do much for me. They're all alike. Pretty boys. Gym whores. They're not... they're not real men." Marion leaned over her shoulder and put her fingertip directly on a fire-engine red mesh pouch with prominent contents. "You can't tell me that's not real." "That isn't what I mean. I keep telling you." "And I keep not understanding." "I'm tired of looking through my viewfinder at nothing but waxed, hairless Boy Wonders who look like they've got a bag of golf balls down their shorts. What ever happened to guys with chest hair? I love sinking my fingers into a thick mat of chest hair." "Eew," Marion said, nose wrinkling. "Next, you'll be telling me you like hairy backs." "I might not go that far," Jaylee admitted. "But I can't see myself with a guy who shaves his underarms and trims his pubic hair down to a wisp!" "Hey, fair's fair. Women have been doing that for centuries. You've had bikini waxes; I know you have." "That's different. Haven't you ever wanted a wild man, Mare?" "Um... no." Jaylee sighed. "The first guy I slept with, my senior year of high school, he was a wild man. No matter what time of day it was, he had this scruff, this five-o'clock shadow. And chest hair, and that line of hair going down the belly... and this enormous stiff cock sticking up out of a dense curly bush of pubes." "I'm with you on the enormous stiff cock part," Marion said. "But the rest... I shudder to think what the shower drain must have looked like. Probably a wad of hair big as a drowned mouse. Blech. Did he have a hairy ass, too?" "Yeah," Jaylee said, her eyes nearly glazing over with nostalgia. "And muscular, hairy legs, too... from the waist down, he was almost like one of those goat-guys from Greek mythology. Satyrs." Marion's nose was wrinkled more than ever, so that her entire face was scrunched up in a kind of dubious horror. "I never knew you went for that. All these years, and I thought you were normal." "It's normal! Quit eyeballing me like I just told you I was into guys who wanted to be diapered, or peed on, or something." "What about spanked?" Before Jaylee could answer, Marion held up her hands in a time-out signal. "Forget it... I just had a vision of you paddling some guy's hairy ass, and I really don't want to go there." "Why are we even talking about this?" Jaylee tossed the catalog aside. "I was telling you about my new job." "One incomprehensible revelation leads to another. And now that I know what turns you on, I'm kind of worried about you going out and taking pictures of gorillas." "Gee, thanks. Because you know it just must be a short step from liking some chest hair to bestiality." "Isn't it?" Marion grinned. "So sue me if I'm one of those women who has a deep-down primal urge to be ravished by a big, powerful barbarian. Maybe I was captured by Vikings in a past life." "Or cavemen. You want they should club you on the head and drag you around by the hair? Or, hey, here's a thought... what about that guy down at the pizza place, the one who wears the bear costume and plays the accordion? Or we could go to Disneyland, and I'll cover for you while you drag B'rer Fox into the briar patch." "Enough already!" Jaylee cried. "Give me a break, huh? How many times did you make me go see The Last Samurai? Did I say a word?" "Right. Okay. So, tell me about the new job. I still can't believe it, but tell me anyway. I thought you hated outdoorsy stuff. Somehow, it's hard to see you crouching in a duck blind, waiting for a moose to walk by." ** Ten days later, Jaylee was on her way to do almost exactly that very thing. Not moose, but deer... except that she was really hoping to get some good shots of predators. That was where the money was. Lynxes sold better than rabbits. Hawks sold better than swans. Wolves sold better than elk. Part of it was the challenge – predators, being quick and sly, were harder to capture on film than their more placid prey. Part of it was the risk. But the main thing was the coolness factor. Even kindergartners knew it. Ask a group of kids to name their favorite dinosaur, most of them would instantly say T-Rex. Ask people going to the circus what they most hoped to see, and it'd be the tigers. At the zoo, crowds gathered more around the big cats than the zebras. Audiences were always more impressed when a magician disappeared a panther, rather than a sheep. Her camera bag was in the passenger seat, strapped in with the seat belt. The last thing she wanted was some sudden stop to tumble it into the footwell. Her cell phone sat in its recharging holster, plugged in, and for once, quiet. No panicked calls from magazine editors to drop everything and rush over to re-shoot some guy's package. The back seat was taken up with her suitcases and a cooler. Classic rock throbbed from the speakers. She had the windows down and the sunroof open to take full advantage of the clean green smell of the forest as she followed the winding road. Every now and then, the trees opened up on stunning meadows and majestic rock-lined river valleys. Maybe Marion was right to be worried. Her new job didn't pay as well, and was a lot chancier. She couldn't do all of her shoots in zoos and other controlled environments. Wild animals weren't going to pose for the camera. She could well walk away from this assignment empty-handed. She could well get fired. But she had enough in savings to keep up on her half of the rent, groceries, and bills for a long time. And once she'd gotten a few photo credits in National Geographic and other leading nature magazines, she might be able to put together calendars, prints, postcards... A small brown sign appeared ahead, informing Jaylee that the turnoff to Black River was coming up. She slowed, and even watching for it almost overshot the narrow gravel lane. There weren't any telephone poles or electrical lines, and she threw a quick glance at the map and brochure resting on the center console. Rustic cabins, she'd been told. Now she wondered just how rustic they meant. She found out fifteen miles later, when she crested a hill. Whoever had designed the place must have been a Lincoln Log enthusiast as a kid. The largest building was long and low, with smoke rising from chimneys at either end. A cluster of tiny cabins surrounded it. The setting was pastoral, a lush green field dotted with wildflowers spreading out to meet the trees. A spring-fed creek sparkled through the grass, and she spotted six deer by the time she reached the gravel parking lot. The deer turned bland, docile brown eyes toward the car, and seemed unperturbed by its presence. When she turned off the engine, cutting the blast-and-thump of the stereo, a near-total silence descended. As her ears adjusted, Jaylee realized she could hear the twitter of birds, the whisper of the breeze through the leaves, and the chuckling sound of the creek. She got out and stretched, glad to be out of the car after so many hours of sitting. She arched her back, arms behind her, breasts straining at the buttons of her soft blue-and-white plaid flannel shirt. One top button wasn't up to the task and sprang free, causing the shirt to gap open to the lace-trimmed top of her bra. That was when she heard a throat clear, and whirled around. In the stillness of the day, she was amazed she hadn't heard him approach. The man was only a few yards away, and the initial sight of him looming there like that sent a pang of fear through her. She was suddenly very much aware of being alone out here. No other cars in the lot except a mud-caked SUV. No other signs of human life. Just her, and him. But then, as she got a better look, Jaylee's fear gave way to interest. He was a big man, broad through the shoulders and chest, with arms like a lumberjack's. His hair was so black that the sun struck indigo highlights from it, and it was worn long, almost to his shoulders. A dusky bristle of beard-shadow covered his cheeks, chin, and upper lip. He had darkly tanned skin, and startling, vivid green eyes. The collar of his tee shirt – it was grey, with "Black River Wildlife Preserve" printed on the front above a logo of a wavery black line meant to indicate a river, and the silhouette of a howling wolf – was loose enough to show a lusty crop of chest hair rising to the base of his neck. He also wore navy-blue sweats, and his muscular thighs would have done credit to a marathon runner. She noticed, as well, the distinct and particular loose sway at his groin, which suggested that he wasn't wearing anything underneath. Here she was, former men's underwear photographer extraordinaire, faced with a man who was clearly going commando. She guessed, therefore, that he wouldn't be familiar with her work. As she studied him, feeling a pleasant warm tingle in her belly, she saw that he was in turn studying her. His gaze roved with arrogant frankness from her low-topped hiking boots, up her bare legs to the hem of her cutoff denim shorts, lingered on the generous show of bra and cleavage afforded by the sprung button, and finally reached her face. There, he seemed fascinated by her mouth, and Jaylee fought down an urge to slide her tongue over the fullness of her lips. "You're the photographer," he said in a husky voice that sent shivers through her, and twanged her libido like guitar strings. "Jaylee Dawson," she said, hoping she could refrain from drooling. "I was told to ask for Rommie." "That's me." When she'd first heard the name, she'd been expecting some sort of grizzled old coot, a caricature of a shotgun-totin', moonshine-drinkin' grey-bearded mountain man, with an aged bloodhound by his side. She couldn't have asked for a better surprise. Rommie showed her which cabin was hers, and insisted on helping carry her luggage. He handled the suitcases with an easy strength that made Jaylee weak in the knees. The cabin was a single room, with a pot-bellied woodstove on a brick hearth and a bed with a frame made from rough-hewn logs. It was covered with a homey quilt. Jaylee was supposed to be here for two weeks, and as Rommie set her suitcases on the bed, was already calculating how many of those fourteen nights she'd have to stay here alone. By the way he was looking at her, not very damn many. And, looking at him, it was all she could do not to wrap her legs around him and just climb him like a tree. "Ice house is behind the main lodge," he said. "Blocks of ice in sawdust. Outhouse is around the back of the cabin." "Outhouse?" she echoed with some dismay. "Any chance of a shower?" His green eyes seemed to glow with amusement, and strong white teeth showed in a grin. "There's the creek." "Oh. Great." The prospect of two weeks without hot water didn't exactly leave her giddy with delight, but there were other compensations. After all, Rommie had to bathe, too... and if she could sneak a single shot of him, naked and wet, with her telephoto lens, it'd make the whole trip worthwhile. Not that she could really sell such a picture to National Geographic. "You want to get settled in, or do you want the tour?" "I can unpack later." He showed her around, and she could have listened all day to his husky growl of a voice. The wildlife preserve, he told her, wasn't fenced. There were signs posted to warn off intruders and hunters, but it was essentially just a sprawling tract of undeveloped woods and wilderness where indigenous animals were allowed to roam free, though tagged with tracking devices. The land had been in his family for generations. It wasn't usually open to tour groups or school field trips or anything of the sort. Occasionally, they'd welcome in a few independent researchers, or photographers, like herself. "Will I be safe out there?" she asked. "The animals aren't tame," he said. "And I was told you were interested in snapshots of predators. Cougar, maybe, or wolf." She didn't care for the word 'snapshots,' but let it go. "That's right. Are there many?" "A few," he said. "But for the most part, they'll be interested in their natural prey, not a person. It's the bugs you'll want to watch out for." Jaylee nodded. She had bug spray, but was resigned to a few mosquito bites all the same. They came to Black River itself, and she grabbed for her camera. The river got its name not from the color of the water, but from the way it reflected the towering black cliffs on either side. The sun dazzle made it look like a spill of diamonds on black velvet. "You should see it in the moonlight," Rommie said. "Moon's full tomorrow night." ** Jaylee spent the next day out in the woods, shooting roll after roll of film and arguing with herself. One side of her was disappointed. Rommie hadn't made a move on her the previous evening. He hadn't even invited her to share dinner with him. She was also disappointed in herself for not making a move of her own, either. The other side of her felt guilty, felt slutty, for being so ready to leap into bed with a man she'd only just met. Never mind that he was everything she'd been describing to Marion only a few days before. But, damn, did she want him! She'd gotten into bed nude – solely because it was more comfortable, she told herself. Not because she expected her door to open at any moment and there he'd be, large and powerful and ready to crush her into the mattress with a fuck of truly epic proportions. And, nude, she had rolled this way and that, unable to sleep. A low-grade fever of unfulfilled arousal wouldn't let her drift off. She'd finally had to masturbate just to relieve the tension. And even then, even after bringing herself to a most satisfying orgasm, she had erotic dreams. Rommie, of course, was the star. In the one that she remembered the most clearly upon waking, she had been out in the meadow by the stream, crouched down to cup the cold water into her hand and drink. Some sound made her turn, and he was there, naked and hairy and monstrously erect. She had fled – it was a dream; it didn't have to make sense – and he'd given chase, through the high grass warmed and fragrant from the sun. Her stride had lengthened into leaps, until she suddenly became aware that she was no longer Jaylee Dawson, but a deer, a fleet doe bounding toward the safety of the wood. And Rommie, hot on her heels, was now a slavering wolf, black-pelted, with feral green eyes. When he sprang upon her, bringing her down, all at once they had been human again. His mouth had been all over her throat and breasts, not biting but covering her with hard, fierce kisses. In the course of their squirming struggle, her legs had gone around his waist, and when he rolled onto his back, Jaylee rolled with him and impaled herself eagerly on his cock. Her travel alarm had gone off before her dream-self had, much to her annoyance. She'd wakened to find her hand between her legs, and with her other hand made frantic slaps at the clock until she hit the snooze. Then she kicked off the covers and brought herself to climax, as pale morning light streamed in through the window. An hour later, having breakfasted on an orange and a power bar, she was on her way. Dressed in khaki shorts, a forest-green shirt tied Daisy-Mae style below her breasts, and her hiking boots, she had her long hair in a ponytail and her eyes shaded by the brim of an Australian leather hat. The bug spray was the scent-free kind, to avoid alerting the animals to her presence. She had a water bottle, a compass, a sandwich and some trail mix in a small backpack, and her camera bag over her shoulder. The woods around Black River teemed with life. She caught blue jays and cardinals, bright flashes of blue and red against the trees. A squirrel, fat and sassy, scolding her from a stump. A doe – reminding her of her dream – stepping daintily through the underbrush. Later, a proud stag with a harem of three does, the lucky buck. No predators, though. Not so much as a fox, let alone a bobcat or lynx or mountain lion. She was no Davey Crockett, and wouldn't have known how to read animal tracks if her life had depended on it. Still, it was only the first day and she had gotten many pictures that she hoped would be good. The shade of the woods had protected her from much of the heat of the day, but she was sweaty and ready for a swim. She came to the banks of Black River and saw a large flat rock poking up from the water a few yards out. The water looked too inviting to resist, so Jaylee hung her camera bag and backpack over a limb, cast a quick look around, and undressed. If Rommie was watching from the shadows, she wanted to tantalize him a little. She took her time removing her bra, and massaged the red lines its straps and underwires left on her flesh. Then, after another glance, she slid down her panties and stood naked on the riverbank. Hairy Men The sun caressed her skin, but when she put a foot into the water, it was cold enough to make her break out in goosebumps, and tighten her nipples into hard little buds. She waded deeper in gradual increments, getting used to the temperature as the water level climbed higher. When it was up to her waist, she slid forward and swam in long strokes against the tug of the current until she was well upstream of the rock. Then she floated on her back and let herself drift downstream. A bird soared over her, and she wondered what she must look like from above. A pale star-shape of a woman against the black water, breasts rising like soft islands, a dark thatch at the juncture of the thighs. She had joked with Marion about pubic grooming, and what she liked in a man wasn't quite what she liked in herself. Hers was trimmed into a tidy triangle, and she liked to think that the silky texture of it was like mink. Refreshed, rejuvenated, and horny all over again, she crawled onto the rock and spread herself out to bask on the sun-heated stone. The sun dipped behind one of the ridges, casting a long shadow over Black River. The western sky had gone rosy-gold, though the rest was still blue and there was more than enough light to see by. Jaylee slipped back into the water and swam to shore. She used her shirt for a towel, thinking that she could stroll back to the cabin in her bra and the only one who might see her would be Rommie. Maybe he'd come back down with her once night fell, and show her the moonlight on the water. She would stay, but she hadn't thought to bring a flashlight, and didn't know about finding her way, full moon or no full moon. She donned her panties and shorts, then socks and hiking boots, and lastly the bra. The damp shirt went into her backpack and she started back through the woods. The twilight shadows, deep here while the sky was still bright above, lent the forest a quality that fell somewhere between mystical and eerie. The growl brought her up short. It came from a stand of bushes, and as she turned her head in that direction, she saw the glint of animal eyes. Jaylee didn't move except to edge her hand to her camera bag. She could just make out a hulking shadow concealed by the leafy boughs. It was breathing in low rasps. The eyes, as lambent green as those snap-and-shake glow sticks kids used at Halloween, never wavered as she slowly raised the camera and sighted through it. The animal emerged, shouldering through the bushes, huge paws silent on the earth. It was a wolf. But when Jaylee thought 'wolf,' she thought brindle-grey and about the size of a Siberian Husky. This wolf was jet-black, and stood nearly as tall as a pony. It uttered a menacing snarl. Her heart stuttered. She lowered the camera, hoping that the sheer size of the beast had been some trick of the viewfinder, some zoom of the lens. To her dismay, she saw that if anything, the wolf looked bigger when seen with her own eyes. Rommie hadn't warned her about anything like this. But Rommie had said that the predators here were more interested in their natural prey. Keeping that in mind, Jaylee tried to bolster her courage. Rommie wouldn't have let her go out alone if he thought that she'd be in any real danger. She took a sideways step, toward the trail that led back to the cabins. The wolf moved faster than she could believe. A single bound, and its long, shaggy body sailed past her. Paws skidded, kicking up loose dirt. The wolf slued around, twisting to face her. Blocking the trail. Jaylee's pulse raced. She took air in quick little sips. Another growl. Low. Menacing. The jaws opening enough to let her glimpse sharp white teeth. She retreated a pace, readying her camera bag. The expensive equipment was the last thing in her mind. What she cared about was heft, and swing. If she could hit the wolf in the head, she might stun it long enough to escape... It advanced on her, green eyes wary. She grasped the camera bag by its strap and stood her ground. She could feel the humid gust of its hot breath on her legs. As she swung with all her might, the wolf attacked. It charged her, ducking as if it had anticipated her move. Its jaws gaped. Saliva flew from its mouth, splattering her arms. Its teeth closed on the strap and with a single wrenching jerk of its neck, it tore the bag from her hands and hurled it away into the shadows. Jaylee cried out and turned to run. If she could reach the river, she might be able to outswim the wolf, and there would be stones to throw. She got three strides before the heavy, furry body collided with the backs of her legs and knocked her down. The heels of her hands plowed through dirt and dead leaves. She skinned both knees and the air burst from her lungs, leaving her winded. Rolling onto her back, she crossed her arms in front of her head to protect her face and neck from the terrible teeth. And to jab her thumbs into the uncanny green eyes, if she got the opportunity. But the wolf did not fall on her in a fury, rending and biting. It edged closer, sniffing at her legs. Sniffed the blood on her abraded knees. Jaylee kicked. The wolf avoided the blow and, with a savage snarl, nipped her. Not hard, not breaking the skin, but pinching enough to hurt. She froze, waiting for the agony of its jaws ripping away the meat of her calf. The agony didn't come. Instead, the wolf licked the blood and dirt from her knee with wet swipes of its tongue. Jaylee didn't dare move. She wasn't sure if she could. The wolf stood between her legs, so that she was unable to bring them together. The wolf shifted to the other knee. Its tongue was supple, smooth, not rough like that of a cat. It left moist trails that cooled as they dried in the evening breeze. Jaylee shivered. The sensation was a mix of pain and pleasure, a stinging relief, reminding her of the way her mother used to tend to her wounds when she'd taken a fall while rollerskating. Finished with her knees, the wolf's steady green gaze regarded her for a moment. There was something so knowing and familiar in those eyes that, briefly, a crazy thought flitted through her mind. Rommie's eyes were just like that. The eyes of a wolf. Of course, what she was thinking was insane, impossible. She started to sit up, and immediately the wolf growled again, cowing her into motionless submission. Its nose pressed to her leg, sniffing, moving up from her knee and over her thigh. Its tongue made a few more swipes, tickling and slippery. She could see its head in clear detail, the way its ears angled back, the pelt forming a ruff around the neck and down onto the broad chest. The wolf opened its mouth. Jaylee bit back a frightened noise, anticipating the fangs sinking into her. The jaws closed with fastidious delicacy on the leg of her khaki shorts and clamped down. In a sudden, brutal series of yanks, the wolf worried at the shorts like a terrier with a rag. The waistband snap popped. The zipper skidded down with a metallic zing. Cloth tore. Seconds later, the shreds of her shorts were tossed aside and she was left in hiking boots, socks, panties, and bra. She felt the hot puff of its breath on her belly. She still could not bring her knees together. A warm, wet nose poked against her crotch, snuffling. The idea that had occurred to her before came back to her now, and this time it was almost believable. Again acting with that fastidiousness, the wolf delicately bit the thin elastic strip at the top of her panties. The wispy material was no match for those jaws. She saw the wolf toss its head, and scraps of pale silk drift away like ghosts. Jaylee reached out, tentatively, and touched the wolf's head. It snorted, and this time its steamy breath washed over her most intimate area. She felt the texture of its fur, at once plush and coarse. Its nose burrowed into her crotch again, unhindered now even by the thinnest of barriers. Her face burned because she knew that it must be attracted by her musky female scent. It was strange, it was wrong. Trapped here, flat on her back on the forest floor being threatened by a gigantic wolf, she should have been scared to death. And she was scared... but she was turned on, too. Sick though it was, she liked the helpless feeling of having her clothes violently stripped from her body, of being unable to move for fear of being bitten. The wolf's mouth opened again. Jaylee flinched, imagining its teeth tearing into sensitive flesh, but the wolf did not bite. The wolf licked. That smooth, supple, warm, slippery-wet tongue delved into her. She cried out, couldn't help herself, cried out and bucked her hips up and splayed her thighs wide to allow the wolf complete access. It lapped and nuzzled. The sounds coming from its throat now were not growls or snarls, but hungry, eager grunts. "Oh... oh... oh, God!" Jaylee heard herself moan. The wolf's tongue was deep inside her, long and flexible. She caught the wolf by the sides of the head but didn't try to push it away, just held it closer as she ground her hips up into its muzzle. As she was on the very verge of a frantic orgasm, straining toward it, whimpering breathlessly and clinging to the thick fur of the wolf's head, a shot rang out. At once, the wolf pulled away from her, leaving strands of its pelt tangled in her fingers. She saw its head snap around, its lips peel back in a hateful grimace, and then it leaped over her. She had a quick glimpse of its underbelly, and of something long and stiff and reddish jutting out of the furry sheath between its back legs. Then the wolf vanished into the woods with a cracking, splintering noise as it trampled bushes and broke off twigs. Cheated, flustered, ashamed, and alarmed, Jaylee sat up fast and looked around. To think she had been caught like that, seen like that... writhing and moaning beneath a wolf as it went down on her... and she was furious with whoever it was for interrupting at that crucial moment... five more seconds would have done... some hunter, some poacher, whoever it was, she wanted to kill him... "You all right?" Rommie asked, emerging from the gathering dusk. Her thoughts came to a crashing, confusing halt. "Yuh... you?!" He came toward her, a rifle resting in the crook of his elbow. He was dressed much as he had been yesterday, this time in dark grey sweatpants and a ribbed black tank top that displayed his arms and shoulders to good advantage. Jaylee blushed more hotly than ever. For a while there, she had been ready to believe that the wolf... Rommie stopped a few feet from her, one bushy black eyebrow raised as he took in the state of her undress, and her posture. Her legs were still wide apart and bent at the knees, breasts rising and falling with the rapidity of her breath so that they almost burst free of the confines of her bra. Her thighs were slick, shiny. Her pubic hair was wet and matted down. "Saw a wolf," Rommie said. He set the rifle aside, leaning it against a tree, and hunkered down near her. "Bite you?" "No," she managed to say. "Licked you, though." Her blush was now so intense she feared she'd ignite. "Rommie... I..." "The thing about a wolf," he said, looking at her with grave seriousness, "is the saliva. Most people don't know it, but a wolf's saliva can be like snake venom. Can be toxic." "What?" She stared at him. "So, it's best to treat it like a snake bite, you see." "I... I don't know what you mean." "Got to suck the venom out." His tone was flat and sober, but his eyes gleamed with lust and mischief. "You go on and lie down. I'll take care of it." Another flush, this one having little to do with embarrassment, swept over her. She stayed put, stammering, until Rommie gently pushed on her shoulders and eased her back down onto the ground. She didn't understand what was happening. Was, actually, not a hundred percent certain she was even awake. Maybe she'd gone for her swim, crawled out onto the sun-warmed rock, and fallen asleep. That was easier to believe than this. But, as Rommie pushed her down and lowered himself between her legs, she decided that she didn't care. Dream or reality, she was going to enjoy it. Her body still ached for that final bit of attention necessary to achieve bliss. She opened herself to Rommie, sinking her fingers into his thick crop of hair just as she had done with the wolf's pelt. He parted her with his thumbs and took a slow, probing taste. Jaylee nearly screamed with delight. She was on the edge, and the sly bastard knew it. He teased, he tormented. His tongue proved almost as adept as the wolf's had been, and soon she was ready to explode. "Do it, do it, oh, God, yes, make me come," she babbled. "Please... I'm so close... oh! Oh, yes!" As her body shuddered, Rommie slid an expert forefinger into her and pressed her G-spot, and Jaylee went purely supernova with pleasure. She clamped her thighs around Rommie's head, not caring if she suffocated him. Her lower legs hooked over his shoulders, and her heels drummed his back. The world went spinny and sparkly for a few seconds, as Jaylee fought to recover her breath and her wits. By the time she could see clearly again, Rommie was kneeling over her. He'd taken off his tank top, but in the dim light she could barely tell because his chest was buried in dense, curling hair. She was fairly certain he had also removed his sweats, though the position of their bodies didn't let her see the rest of him. "There's only one way to make sure the venom's all flushed out," he said, those green eyes seeming to blaze at her like fiery emeralds. "Forget about that and just fuck me," she said. He grinned, white teeth flashing in the twilight. "You sure that's what you want?" "Yes!" She grabbed him and hauled him down atop her. As she'd thought, he was naked, and his thick body hair was scratchy-tickling-wonderful against her skin. Rommie paused long enough to break the front hook of her bra, and greedily stuffed as much of one breast as he could into the warm suction of his mouth. The other did not lack for attention; he kneaded it with his large, rough hand. Jaylee, almost desperate to have his cock fill her up, squirmed around underneath him. She could feel it, stiff and smooth, rubbing along her thigh. "You'll think I'm crazy," she panted in his ear. "You really will, but... when the wolf was... licking me like that... I thought it was you. That you were... you know... some kind of werewolf." He raised his head, and his grin was more ferocious than ever. "But I am." "What?" Before her very eyes, he changed. The dark shadow of his stubble spread and grew, even as the lower half of his face pushed out into a toothy muzzle and his brow sloped back. His ears elongated to furry points. She could hear bones crackling as they realigned, could feel muscles bulging and shifting beneath hairy skin that was rapidly becoming covered with a thick pelt. The eyes, though... the eyes were the same. He reared up, a wolf-beast in humanoid form, and howled at the rising white disk of the moon. Its silver beams painted his black coat with a brilliant sheen. His erection, huge and slick, glistened in the moonlight. Jaylee lay there, too stunned to react, as the thing that had been Rommie grabbed her by the arms and lifted her high into the air. He handled her as if she weighed next to nothing. His arms, shoulders, chest, and thighs all swelled with slabs of muscle. The heat and wild smell of him were overpowering. Her legs dangled uselessly. He nudged them apart and lowered her toward that waiting, rigid spike of flesh. She wanted to shriek but couldn't, not until the monstrous length of it slammed home. Then she shrieked, like a siren. Her tissues stretched almost unbearably. She thought he would split her in two. They dropped to the forest floor again, Rommie's weight crushing her. He rocked his hips back, withdrawing so that only the tip of his cock was in her, and then thrust it all the way in again. She shrieked again, but clawed at his furry shoulders and hooked her ankles over the backs of his thighs, and drove her hips up to meet him as he commenced a hard, fast, pounding fuck. She was sure that it still hurt, probably hurt like hell, but any pain was totally lost in a roaring rush of ecstasy. This was what she'd always wanted. To be pinned and helpless, ravished by a hairy brute, fucked mercilessly. She came twice before losing track of her orgasms, before they just blurred together in a cataclysmic thunder. Rommie howled, and she howled with him, and he pumped in and out with bestial frenzy. The waving black banner of his tail slapped against her knees as his buttocks flexed, driving him deep. He erupted within her, flooding her with hot liquid, and the spasms of his cock sent her into the throes of a final shattering climax. All Jaylee could do was quiver and make little mewling noises. Rommie clambered off, crouched over her, and shook himself like a wet dog. He made a whuffing noise. As he sat back on his haunches, his transformation reversed itself. Fur fell away in drifts. His forehead rose, his jaw receded. Gristle popped as his limbs rearranged to a human configuration. He looked at her. She looked back, not knowing what she would say even if she'd been able to speak. "Like you guessed," he said, "I am a werewolf. Always have been. Born that way." "Oh." It was the best she could muster. She was wringing with sweat, coated with his shed hair, sticky, achy, and more utterly sexually satisfied than she had ever been in her entire life. Not even the long ago boyfriend had left her feeling like this. "You all right?" he asked. "Yeah. Do... do you do this a lot? To other women who come out here?" "Never been one like you," he said. "Never one that I thought might still want me after I changed." "How did you know that I would?" A rustle made her turn her head. The other wolf stalked into the clearing and shot Rommie a very sentient reproachful glare, then sat down with its tail curled around its forepaws and its shining green eyes on Jaylee. "Don't give me that look," Rommie said to the wolf. "Told you, I saw her first. I had to run you off." The wolf growled. Jaylee remembered what it had done to her, what she had let it do, and how much she had liked it. A renewed redness colored her cheeks, but at the same time, a renewed twinge of arousal kindled in her loins. Rommie winked at her. "Remy fancies you, too," he said. "But I had dibs." "Remy?" "My brother. Twins." "Ah," Jaylee said. "Nicknames? Short for Romulus and Remus?" "Not very original," he admitted. "But Mom thought that it suited us." "So he's a werewolf, too?" "Right, though Remy prefers to spend most of his time all the way in wolf-form, while I spend most of mine as a man. I'm sorry if he scared you." "What... um... what are you going to do with me now?" she asked with considerable trepidation. "I suppose you can guess what Remy would answer to that," Rommie said. "I keep telling him he'd have better luck with women if he went around on two legs some of the time. But he likes it best down on all fours. What can I say?" He shrugged. Remy trotted over to Jaylee. The terrifying, fierce wolf of earlier was gone, replaced by an oversized puppy giving her a hopeful, head-tilted, yearning gaze with big winsome eyes. She couldn't help laughing, and ruffled his ears. He let his tongue loll out. "You... don't mind?" she asked Rommie. He shrugged again. "You don't owe me anything. I had my first dibs. After that, it's all up to you." "I must be out of my mind," Jaylee muttered. She looked at Remy. The wolf whined appealingly, and inched closer, wagging his tail. Hairy Men It was insane, totally wrong, but before she could stop to talk herself out of it, she rolled onto her hands and knees and presented her backside to the wolf. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Remy's and Rommie's green eyes had widened in identical expressions of surprise and joy. Remy wasted no time. He situated himself behind her and raised his forepaws onto her back. They altered a little, feeling more like human hands as they gripped her sides. His hot, furry body covered hers. His huge cock plunged in, its way greatly eased by how stretched and lubricated Rommie had left her. Overwhelmed by sheer sensation, Jaylee was almost a wild animal herself. She bucked to meet each of Remy's rapid thrusts, hardly caring that his clawlike nails were digging into her ribs. Rommie, erect again, knelt in front of her. She didn't need to be asked or instructed. She opened her mouth and drew him in. He was still human, but the taste of the wolf was on him, and the taste of her juices, and she sucked him hard and took him as far down her throat as she possibly could. They went on like that, switching positions until they had tried almost every permutation and combination that Jaylee could think of, until all three of them were utterly spent and exhausted. At last, they lay in a heap together, her with her head pillowed on Remy's furry side, Rommie with his head on her stomach, limbs entwined. Around them, the forest night was silent, and the full moon rode high in the midnight sky above. ** "What do you mean, you're not coming back?" "I told you, Marion... I met someone." "He must be someone pretty damn special; you've only been up there a week." "Oh, he's special, all right. He's wonderful. Everything I ever wanted." "Yeah?" Marion paused. "Has he got a brother?" Jaylee laughed. "Actually, he does, but I don't think he's your type." "Why not?" "Too hairy," Jaylee said, and hung up.