What Sweet Music They Make

My friend (and regular fuck) Trevor is a werewolf. I found this out shortly after I met him when he came to my house to install a new basin in my bathroom; he’s also a plumber, and a good one too.

When he visited that first time I was somewhat taken aback by his manner, as he seemed to almost slope into the house and move (how shall I put this?) furtively down the hallway, neck craning slightly forward, head turning slowly from side to side as he peered through open doors, as if he was a predator on the prowl; or indeed prey on the alert for hunters. 

I wondered if he was casing the joint, but my 56 years have given me a fairly good radar for rascals and villains, and it wasn’t sounding the alarm with Trevor. Still, I kept a close eye on him just in case, which was no difficult thing as he was extremely pleasant, if unusual, on the eye. Hindsight naturally tells me that I should have guessed he was a werewolf by his appearance, but hindsight is a fool’s game and werewolves are supposed to be fictional. 

He was of indeterminate age, anywhere from late 20s to mid 30s, tall and slender with a mop of deep black hair which would regularly fall over his eyes in a kind of v-shaped fringe. He was clean-shaven save for a pair of beautifully styled sideburns which tapered out over his cheeks to the most exquisite points, and it was these that probably gave him a kind of wolfish look. This effect was enhanced by his face which was long and handsome with prominent cheekbones, an aquiline nose and deep penetrating eyes, surmounted by two expertly trimmed black eyebrows. Quite a package, and of course I fell for him as soon I opened the front door.

He did a marvellous job on my basin, and even fixed a shower head that I’d mentioned had been playing up. When I offered him a cup of tea and biscuits after he'd finished he grinned like a schoolboy and quickly packed up his kit, as if he was scared that I would withdraw the offer if he wasn’t fast enough. To say that he ‘wolfed down’ the treat would be a bad pun, but I’ll say it anyway, and I found his boyish delight delightful. Which I suppose is how we ended up in bed together that same afternoon.

Well, technically not in bed exactly, as he fucked me on the kitchen table before I’d even had a chance to offer him a second cuppa. I’m not quite sure how it happened really, I suppose it was the sugar hit from the Tim-Tams, but he just reached across the table, grabbed the front of my shirt, pulled me across to him and planted the best deep (chocolate flavoured) tongue kiss on me that I could ever hope to experience, and we were off. 

As were our clothes. Come to think of it, I’m not really sure how that happened either, one minute I was lost in his mouth, the next I was naked on my back amongst the tea things, legs resting on his shoulders and his cock deep inside me. And he was growling. 

Not moaning you understand, growling, with each thrust a definite animal growl. Not just that, but I could swear that as his fucking became more intense he bared his glistening white teeth and leaned down as if to kiss me but instead snapped at me, stopping short as if he was just keeping himself under control. 

I suppose I should have been scared, or at least concerned, but to tell the truth I’d never been fucked like that before. His red hot cock was doing things to my prostate that I didn't imagine possible, and I doubt I would (or could) have asked him to stop even if the house had been on fire.

Within what I now see as a kind of erotic delirium he’d induced in me, I remember being vaguely aware of a transformation that seemed to be overtaking him as his fucking became more and more abandoned. His face, partially obscured by his mop of hair, had been clean-shaven when he first arrived, but as I stared up at him I could swear that a shadow of dark stubble had formed, giving him an even more wolf-like appearance. His body (I’m sure!) had been pale and smooth, but now a fine dark pelt covered his stomach and chest, emitting its own heat and smell.

Even his features appeared to have deepened and become more pronounced, his nose more snout like, his eyes deeper set, his mouth more hungry, his tongue unnaturally long and flexible as it licked his salivating lips. And yet still I wasn’t scared, my instincts telling me that I was safe within this transformation, in some ways even complicit in it.

I also knew that we were neither of us far from orgasm. His growling had become a continuous guttural soundtrack to his assault on my hole, my own breathing forced out of me in deep, regular grunts with each animal thrust. I could feel his hands like talons on my shoulders pinning me down, his hair brushing across my eyes as his hot breath enveloped my senses, his saliva speckling my face, his tongue licking my lips and cheeks.

Suddenly he clamped his mouth over mine and howled into my body as we both came at precisely the same moment. I could feel his penis like a hard rod inside me jerking again and again as he pumped hot, hot semen into my passage. With every ejaculation he pushed deeper into me, his heavy balls slapping loudly against my buttocks, his flow seemingly endless as my cock spasmed into life and unleashed its own torrent, covering my stomach and chest and neck with more jizz than I could ever remember delivering, all without a touch of my hand. 

“What the hell was that?” I wondered aloud as we lay there panting on top of the kitchen table, the tea things scattered to the four winds. His body, furry and sweat soaked, pressed against mine as we sucked in great mouthfuls of air, his cock motionless inside me, his growls re-tuned into a kind of deep purring from within his chest. 

He raised himself and looked down at me through a curtain of hair, allowing his rapidly softening cock to slide wetly from my sloppy arsehole. Leaning down he greedily licked up the pools of thick cum I’d left all over my body, his tongue warm and unnaturally long as he intently tasted every inch of my torso before burying his face in my sodden bush, inhaling the stink of cum and sweat. 

I remember that I cried out as he slid my spent cock into his mouth, his tongue entwining its slippery length, probing beneath the sheath of foreskin, those glistening white teeth nibbling ever so lightly on the bunched up flesh. “Is this where I get eaten?” I pondered, this time to myself.

Suddenly he stepped back and sloped out of the room, purring and growling and tossing his thick mane of hair back and forth as if trying to clear his head. I watched as he disappeared into the hallway, his muscular back covered in that smooth, dark fur, as were his beautiful buttocks and legs. A door closed, and I was fairly certain it was my bedroom, but what he was doing in there was a mystery, and I was happy for it to remain so for the time being.

With an effort (and what an effort!) I slid myself off the table, surveying the wreckage of broken cups, jugs and teapots; the Royal Worcester would never be the same again! I didn’t regret any of it though as I could feel his hot semen warming me, making my insides glow as if they were gently on fire. I reached back to massage my stretched arsehole and felt his juice leaking out of me, warm on my fingers, smooth as velvet.

Looking down at my heavy, limp cock I noticed a small speck of blood on my foreskin where his teeth had tested the flesh. “Does that make me a werewolf as well?” I wondered. The thought bounced around my brain momentarily before my wiser self laughed it off, bringing me back to reality. I needed a shower but was reluctant to wash away the remnants of the encounter just yet, so took myself off in search of my strange guest.

I found him in my bedroom, curled up in a foetal position at the end of my bed, naked and fast asleep. His breathing was heavy and regular, his body and face hairless and smooth as I’d first seen them, save for his legs and buttocks which remained covered in their dark hair. 

I chuckled inwardly as I looked down at him, for all the world like a loyal dog asleep on his master’s bed. Overcome with tiredness myself I lay down as well, enjoying the stillness of the moment. He stirred slightly, opening one eye just long enough to confirm that it was me before resting his head on my feet and going back to sleep. I smiled, and joined him in that happy dreamless state.