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inmydeepestdreams · 1 year

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I have been friends with Nate since we were kids. Our moms were friends, so it was pretty much destiny, or something.

We have the same interests, the same friends, hell, we even have the same taste in girls. He was totally supportive when I told him I was bi, he is the person I trust most in this world.

It made sense for us to go to college together, so we did. We found out our university allows for mixed gender room assignments. And while our parents weren’t crazy about the idea, we filled out the paperwork anyway. We’ve been rooming together ever sense.

Now it’s the end of our sophomore year, and we’ve been talking about getting a place together off campus.

“If we had some other friends maybe we could afford it,” Nate complained, and he was right. We had met many people since moving to our college, but have somehow made no lasting friend ships. We haven’t even had much luck dating. The last time I dated anyone was the previous semester, for him, it was freshman year.

Times were tough, basically.

And it was a Friday night. I had to stay in to work on a paper, and although Nate wouldn’t admit it, he wasn’t comfortable finding a party on his own. So, he stayed back too.

I finished the paper around ten and we cracked open a couple beers to celebrate. Nate loaded GTA just for something to do. It was going to be a quiet, chill night in.

We played for about two hours, finishing Nate’s six pack and a couple of stray wine coolers. Eventually, our controllers lay discarded beside us. We were both drunk enough to open up, and the late hour helped.

“It fucking sucks,” Nate said. We were both out of drinks, but he still moved his hand like he meant to reach for one. “Like, that girl, Maddie. Remember Maddie?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, like, she’s got a boyfriend. I didn’t know, and it’s like…fuck dude.” He shook his head like he had decided against telling me something.

“What?”

“Its just hard.”

“I know.”

“No, like…” he waved his hand before running it through his black curly hair. Nate was a good looking guy, I truly didn’t understand his frequent strike outs. “Its like…”

“Like?”

“Like, I’m just frustrated.”

“Well yeah, I get that. I haven’t had a date in a while either.”

“No, like, frustrated.”

I just looked at him, maybe my brain was foggy from the drink, but I didn’t get it.

“Im not following.”

“Like I haven’t had any action in too long.”

“Yeah, same dude, I’m frustrated about that too.”

“And it’s just…college is hard.” He slumped down in his beanbag and briefly shut his eyes. I was laying down in mine too, facing him on my side.

“Like, you’re in the room. And that’s great, I love you, you’re my best friend, but like…it’s hard to have time to get off.”

Oh.

Well yeah, I’ve had a similar problem. I have attempted to in the shower, but they’re communal and it’s too stressful. I take too long.

“I get it.”

He lolled his head to the side and looked at me through his pretty long lashes.

“You do?”

“Yeah, I have the same issue. We’re always together.”

“Yeah, but…”

“If you ever need me to step out, you know, take a lap or whatever, let me know and I will.”

He didn’t say anything for a long time, I felt my face, it was unbelievably hot. Why was this embarrassing? He described in detail the first time he fucked a girl, and this was what made me blush?

That’s when I noticed, or at least, I thought I noticed. I don’t know, really. But it seemed like he was hard in his pants. But the sweatpants were black, and the lights were dim and maybe I was just drunk and not thinking clearly.

I mean, I’ve seen it before? How could I not? We live together, I’ve woken up before him and seen morning wood. Whatever. We’re roommates, that shit is normal.

I didn’t stare long enough to know for sure, but my face felt even hotter.

“We could always just help each other out.” He said.

Something about those words felt like a hammer hitting a mirror. My brain shattered into a million tiny pieces, and I realized that I was…not entirely un-horny. If that’s even a term. And Nate is hot, and it’s been so, so long.

NO! HE IS YOUR FRIEND!

My eyes found his crotch again, but I ripped them away. I shouldn’t. I really really shouldn’t. It could ruin everything. We live together for godsake.

The last guy I slept with didn’t even make me come, and I haven’t had time to touch myself for three weeks at least, maybe four.

My breath came out shaky.

“How do you mean?”

He didn’t say anything, he just reached over and traced his little finger along the seam of my pants. Just the side of my leg, nothing sexual about that. I felt fire erupt from the place of contact. Was I really that desperate? Get it together!

“Nate?”

“We don’t have to,” he said, but his hand was still on my leg, still moving. I couldn’t speak, nothing would come out, I didn’t know what to do. I wanted this, but I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t.

His hand moved, sliding to grip my inner thigh. I let out an embarrassing squeak. I was sure he would make fun of me, that’s the kind of friendship we have, but he didn’t. His eyes were low, trained on some part of my body to avoid eye contact.

He just held my thigh over my pants for a moment. A few seconds, or maybe an hour.

Finally, he moved upwards, just a little. He traced a finger over my pussy. Layers away from his touch, it felt like direct contact. My breath hitched as I saw him grab his erection over his pants.

This was weird, it was getting too weird. I should stop it, I…

He briefly met my eyes, they were wide, hopeful, before he dropped them again.

“You’re really pretty. I don’t tell you that enough.”

My mouth wouldn’t move, I couldn’t move.

He pulled at himself over his pants and let out a small, pathetic noise. The type I’d make fun of him for, because we have that kind of relationship.

“I could make you feel good.”

Christ.

“I really could, I promise.”

I believe you.

“I promise I could, and I just…dude, I need it. I need you.” His hands moved a bit higher, they toyed with the waistband of my pants. “Are you wet?”

It was so breathy and erotic, and it should not have turned me on. But I’m just, I’m just a woman, I have needs.

He licked his lips, slowly, he leaned forward and planted a delicate kiss to my mouth. I wasn’t expecting it, but he pulled back almost immediately. He looked shy.

“Lets help each other out.”

I still couldn’t speak, I didn’t know how to, and if I did, I didn’t know what would come out. My rational brain was packing it’s bags.

“What if…what if it’s like, just the tip?”

Some distant, intelligent part of my head wanted to laugh at him. I’ve heard that before, it’s damn cliche. And what would that do for me?

“Just that, and then I’d focus on you. Come on, I’d make you feel so good. I’d…I’d play with your tits, then, I’d suck on your neck while I fingered you. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Just the tip, that’s all,” he repeated. And inexplicably, I found myself nodding.

He stopped hesitating. He took his shirt off first, then my shirt. I had an ugly old sports bra on underneath, I usually wore it in the room with him. It was practically second skin. He pressed another kiss to my lips, chaste as the first, then removed my bra.

He paused, leaned away from me, and ogled my chest.

“Jesus,” he swore, rubbing a hand over his clothed dick casually. “Were they always that big.”

“Shut up,” I said, finding my voice. He smiled, and he was the same old Nate in that moment, playful and childish, my best friend.

And then my best friend Nate was squeezing my boob, running his thumb over the nipple.

He took my pants off fast. He moved quickly. I wondered if he would just put it in and come instantly, I wondered why I agreed to such a thing.

“Ill make you come as many times as you want after, I promise. Just…just let me…” he kept repeating as he lined up.

He was on top of me, we were on the floor between our beds, between the beanbag chairs. The room was funny angle from down there, it was almost like Nate wasn’t Nate.

He kicked over empty bottles and swore. I was wet, he was right, but not enough to be totally comfortable.

He rubbed the head of his cock up against my clit. I gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders. He smirked at me, I didn’t like that, so I looked away.

“So pretty, so pretty under me.” He mumbled, moving down to my hole.

He moaned as he rubbed the head of his cock against my wetness. It didn’t feel like much to me, just an experience. I kind of thought he’d come by now.

Then, suddenly, he was inside me.

I cried out, shooting up instinctively but he was above me, so I had nowhere to go. I pushed against his shoulder in warning.

“Not what we agreed, fucker,” I squeezed my eyes shut. He was big, and I kind of forgot what it was like to have a real penis inside me. It was a lot.

“Im sorry,” he said, not seeming sorry when he began rutting inside me. “I am, I am sorry. You just felt so good, just let me, please? It’s been so long, and your body is so fucking sexy. Please, please let me.”

“Fuck me,” I said through gritted teeth. It was already done, he might as well give me something. “Just don’t come inside me.”

“Thank you,” he whined, he leaned down and rested his weight against me, burying his head in my shoulder as he lazily fucked me. It wasn’t impressive or all that pleasurable, and I decided to hold him to that multiple orgasms promise.

“Thank you,” he kept saying, was he crying? He may have been. “Fuck, fuck!”

He came, biting down on my shoulder, I felt him spill inside me.

“Fuck, Nate!” I swore, he would be buying me a goddamn planned B.

I pushed him up when he collapsed against me for too long. He pulled out, his cock still twitching slightly. It was weird to think that it was inside me. That he was inside me.

He leaned back and grabbed his discarded shirt. I watched him wipe his shiny cock and then use a clean portion of the shirt to clean off my thighs.

“Can i?” He asked, motioning for my pussy. Like he did much asking before. I nodded, and he worked to clean some of the drippy come out of me.

“Nate?” I asked, eyeing him. I was quite desperate for an orgasm, and the proximity of Nate to my area of need was making me feel crazy.

“Hmm?”

“About the multiple orgasms.”

#idk what this is #it’s something ig #unedited #work? nah not safe #cnc ig?#idk the names for the shit im into

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dressed-in-rope · 2 months

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You slam the door behind you, relieved to have the solid wooden door behind you. You only realize just how dark it is in the room when the lock clicks behind you.

Your eyes adjust, heart pounding and eyes wide with panic. It smells of animal in here, of sweat and heat and fur and musk. It's not until you start to catch your breath, to calm down, that you hear the growling, and see the white gleam of teeth in the darkness.

You throw yourself against the doorknob, dress catching and tearing on something unseen, praying that the lock will yield and let you flee back to the hallway where at least there are horrors you can understand.

“Down.”

It's then that you feel a firm but gentle hand at your elbow.

“the door does tend to stick, dear. Calm down- your panic is only making them eager. They're hunting dogs, you know- best not smell like prey, hm?

You turn to see a woman, stepped out of the crowd of hunting hounds, growling with their hackles up. She is tall and dark-haired, barely dressed in dark leather and fur. She smells like sweat and heat and sex, like this place but–more. Her voice is in your ear as you feel her hands on your back, her fingers deftly undoing the buttons on your wedding gown.

“You were right to run, pet, but it's these unfamiliar smells–the soap and perfume–that are setting them off. Just let them smell you, they’ll be all right. Come, now, just let them see you. It's all right—I keep his dogs, and they listen to me.”

You stifle a moan as she unclasps the last button at the small of your back and helps you out of the pool of white fabric as you stand there, in your shift and stockings.

She steps back, completely at ease among the dogs, slowly relaxing to you as they start to fight and hump each other and crowd around their mistress as they wait for the master to need them.

You watch her long fingers, scratching and petting the hounds that crowd around her. She laughs as they dig their noses under her skirt, nudge her thighs apart, shooing them away as they lap at her skin. Their teeth are sharp, and with one word, she could stop this, and they would rend her to pieces for their master.

You can't tear your eyes away from her. And god, you're leaking down your thighs before you notice her black crop is covered in blood.

“There's a good girl. See? They recognize you as one of their own. There's no need to be frightened. They're jumping, see–be careful, best get on their level,” she coos, “that's good, just like that.”

And so, at her urging, you get down on your hands and knees for her, needy and desperate and terrified of her crop.

The dogs nuzzle at you, and your thighs closing on instinct.

“Let them smell you, that's a good girl. Show them you're one of us.”

From where you kneel on the floor, you can see up her skirt, her bush full and her cunt dripping down her thighs as she moves through her pack, her fur coat loose around her, and god, all you want is more.

Your lips part at the sight, tongue lolling from your mouth. Your nipples are hard against your shift, your own cunt aching, your thighs parting slightly–

You feel an invasive nose pushing them further apart.

She looks down at you, on your hands and knees with the dogs, and as she moves her crop you brace for the pain that doesn't come, and moan as you feel it part your swollen, dripping lips, and flick across your slit.

You look up, desperate and aching and confused to see her run a sharp-nailed finger across the tip of the leather, pulling away your slick and bringing it to her mouth, tasting you, laughing…

Your breath catches, feeling the hot breath between your thighs, the hound sniffing and licking at your skin doing so with a tongue that is absolutely still human.

It's then that you meet her eyes, and she smiles with a mouth full of sharp, canine teeth.

“Good girl.”

You're terrified. But not sure if you're scared of her, or them, or yourself.

Your legs spread and your throat and stomach exposed as soft tongues from mouths of too-sharp teeth lap at you, the pants and moans and whines all too human.

She smirks down at you as the dogs circle:

“Good bitch.”

And just losing yourself in a sea of noses and tongues and teeth too sharp to be human anymore; Pleasure between your thighs as they lap. She stands above you, watching, and you can feel her eyes on you as she makes noises of approval.

With her dogs exploring you, tasting you, making you one of them, she tilts your head back to meet her eyes with her crop under your chin and utters a single command:

“Bark.”

You struggle, fear caught your throat, but oh, as you whimper, it becomes less and less human, caught up on the pleasure and the heady feeling of being his and hers and theirs all at once.

Before long one of the tongues hits your clit, centers in on it and sucks and licks and laps and sucks. And it's natural, it's so natural.

Your mistress asks you if you understand your place here, yet.

Yes, you think, of course you know, one of her hounds, his hounds.

But you don’t say that.

You bark for her.

“There you go”, she purrs, petting your head just like the other hounds: “You're one of them now”

Her words echoing in your ears, too keen, now. You nod, slightly, on a neck that is no longer really yours, as she slips his collar around your neck.

“Good bitch.”

You don't protest at all when, tired and spent, you are led back into the kennels. She doesn't even have to tell you. You know what a good hound does.

And when your husband returns and takes his hounds hunting the hinds of the forest, all that's left is a pretty, trembling, young white thing among the kennels. Tongue long, teeth sharp, eyes wide.

Your last coherent thought before that too slips away is how pleased you are that your master has returned.

#nsft #queer cnc #queer ns/fw #queer tf #queer nsft #horror nsft #wlw nsft #uh ask me to tag ig?#original nsft fiction #monster nsft

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