This is a world where both humans and furs live side by side, to a degree it is also part of my life story so I hope it's somewhat interesting for you. Certain names and details have been omitted to keep anyone associated with this piece work free from harm's way, but most of the names of the furs here will be completely accurate.
When someone cares enough for another soul that every day their thoughts wander to them, almost incessantly while their eyes water and a great gaping hole can be felt in their chest, is it wise to continue with that attachment, that needed fondness that binds two spirits in mind while the writer breaks down into tears remembering someone who captivated himself in such a way? It is natural to fall for another soul, weather it be male, female or what not, even when complete lack of contact begins to develop, one side, if not both, can feel some of the residual energy of the other building up inside of them.
Right now, as these words flow from my fingertips and tears stream constantly down my face at the thought of never hearing from them again, I still hold a great deal of hope that I will eventually hear from them some day, somewhere even when my mind tells me that they're gone I still sit here waiting as hope and sorrow tear away at me like a virus. It may sound odd to other people who believe that true love or things similar to it are nothing more than a marketing farce, but this is coming from the paws of a hopeless romantic who does believe that things like that are capable of happening and that I was struck by one such mishap. Those where the happiest few months of my life mentally, but physically and emotionally, especially with the impossibility of acceptance within my family for who and what I was, they were trying and still are.
I had met her almost on accident at a little place that an iguana girl had showed me to, the relationship between my mate to be and her was as mistress and pet, the iguana being the dominant one of the two and quite frequently in great need releasing the pressures in her loin. At the time I had been waiting on what would end up being a waste of time trying to hold myself until my first mate came back on, that little bit ended up in complete misery as I found out some rather dreadful secrets about both her, and why she had dissipeared but that is a story for another time. To be bluntly honest, I had followed the both of them because I was very much "in season" and I had had some quite wonderful experiences with the iggy prior to this engagement, The beginning of the event was interesting enough, both of the girls working on pleasing each other, mistress tempting her pet while I made some lewd banter towards the pair and quite privately managed to sneak in some flirtatious words into the coons ear.
Almost to my chagrin Juliandra had "accidentally" overheard a portion of what I was saying and I would be lying if I said that she had no force in that thigh-thick tail of hers. In the next few seconds after being appropriately floored, wind knocked out of me, leaving my head spinning for some time, had given my distracted form a reason not to notice the heavy iron shanks being clamped around my wrists, legs and neck. Rather ironically, either that or having a foot long tongue to taunt them with, I ended up with my mate to be pressing her crotch against the tip of my cold black nose while her mistress went quite graciously about working my cock with her tongue and lips.
Being the colossal pain I can occasionally be, I decided to play a little game with Juliandra, focusing the whole of my interest into the angelic soul sitting against my lupine muzzle, nearly allowing my formerly erect member to turn semi-flaccid, though more than throughly aroused, as I was promptly drowned in the scent of a needy raccoon, a scent to this day that echoes in the back of my head. At this little disgrace to Juliandra, she quickly remedied the problem by mounting and squeezing my shaft between her legs like a vice, breaking my mind into little segments, half completely infatuated with the coon sitting on my face, the other needing to fulfill the desires of my crotch. The later eventually won out but that was very temporary for I found my tongue probing within the slick, addictive taste of the coons inner walls and from my occasionally greedy nature, found myself not only wanting, but needing a great deal more.
Taking notice of the lack of attention I was paying to her again, the iggy promptly removed my paws from their shackles and forcibly guided them to her slim, taunt hips, letting them drug their selves in the slickness of her scales while my joy-rod was playing tug-of-war with my olfactory senses and the moist texture streaming onto my tongue. The little three way went on for quite some time and my shaft and tongue became quite familiar with the both of them, though Juliandra would be the one to gleefully relieve twin winter orbs hanging between my legs of their thick gooey contents, feeding her own need to procreate while my fascination with the raccoon continued to build into something on a completely new scale. My mind and body had learned one thing that day, and I did not wish to let someone who's personality attracted me to it like a moth to a flood light.
Though I had met Juliandra's pet on several occasions before, I had never gotten the chance to sneak off with her elsewhere, save for a little dance here and there, and trying to do so was often problematic at best. I had spent a few days bouncing ideas through my head since, at the time, I was without a mate and quite honestly, fairly miserable from the turnout of my first. Several of the ideas made it up the list, but most were beyond any kind of piratical use. Prior to this bit I had noticed that I had a bit of a quicksilver tongue, the right words here and there could be used to play puppeteer with most of the furs around and I did use this to my advantage in the beginning. Out of everyone whom I had a semblance of attraction for, there came a time where I narrowed it down to less than five though each was reluctant in their own right. To each I passed a unique emerald necklace inlaid within a silver band, and if I recall properly, all still wear their own stone but most have no idea as to it's significance.
Through words of flattery and me playing to the beats that each of them enjoyed, I had at very least made several good friends of whom I could come to in times of trouble, but nearly all of them gradually faded away from where most of the other furs met, eventually leaving me with the coon to whom I was both infatuated with, and intoxicated to (and nothing has changed about my feelings towards her) and a lithe hermaphrodite by the name of Ryn, who made courtship more of a game of patience than that of courting.
After her mistresses disappearance near a month before, I had quite honestly begun to court the one who would eventually steal me away and graciously allow tears to flow down my cheeks again, the first time since the death of my grandmother nearly five years ago, finally sealing a gaping wound in my soul. I may have been delightfully ignorant of things at the time, but I did press her to agree to take my paw as my one female, and me as her one male, of which eventually came to pass early in December. Times were fairly happy then, there was little to worry me save school and meeting the local colors since I had really been using the dormitory's as my own private sanctuary from the rest of existence. It was there when I first begun to make horrid mistakes of which I am still paying through sweat and blood for.
The Oncoming Storm
I can admit that I was never exactly suited for school, the entire concept of it quite honestly bored me to tears and the fact that someone else was currently paying for me to go there was not exactly the best planning on their behalf seeing as, if you look at any wolf, we tend to be colossal mooches if allowed to be. The first semester, if anyone believes in foreshadowing, should have been a dead giveaway for me to back down but stubbornness and pride, as well as a foolish attempt to prove myself, forced me to bend to my families assistance in booting my lupine hide back into those wretched hovels known as the dormitories. This is where things quickly begun to degenerate, going from bad to worse, and farther still afterwards.
The four courses I had chosen to take that semester, had I been a diligent student, wouldn't have been all that problematic save for bio-chemistry which was renowned for its failure rate of near 75 of the class, though calculus, writing and rhetoric, and English should have not posed any kind of trouble, even for my inert laziness, certain things eventually did. As is quite usual for me, the first month of classes went over quite well, assignments were done and pressed into the palms of the collective teachers, though I honestly wonder why I ended up in a course where not only was the professors accent nearly impossible to understand, but at the speed of which he grazed through the course material. More often than not, I spent a good deal of the class staring at the bald spot between the two large tufts of tangled white hair, of which did nothing to hide his hearing aids, something of which I still donut seem to understand today.
After getting a feel for my classes, I had done something that I am also quite consist ant at doing, and that is traveling places quite rashly and without much notice to my family. This particular trip would turn out to be one of the biggest errors on my palliate, especially after coming to the conscious decision not to horde every cent I found, something of which I've promptly reverted to after this whole fiasco. I had planned to stay what should have been a three day weekend down at a close friends house in New Mexico, had the situation been different, and had the tiger somehow managed to loose a good one hundred and fifty pounds, we may have ended up as lovers.
The planning had been rash, the packing very simple, the three days of arguing with my family brutally grinding against the back of my head as I checked what little I had in my bank account, ending up being near exactly sixty dollars, Just enough to get me down there, but nowhere near enough to get me back. The ride itself was interesting enough, starting off from that odd little place known as Boulder, Colorado, seeing as how my vehicle was followed rather unpleasantly close by an un-marked police car nearly all the way from highway 36 until the turnoff for interstate 25, leaving my nerves pleasantly shaken to the point where ever one of my ivory fur coated fingers were trembling of their own accord. From that turnoff to the New Mexico border was fairly pleasant, save the screaming vehicles going through Trinidad. After crossing the NM border, the ride had the general aspect of driving turned into a tour through a dead-zone, every piece of greenery looked as if it had died decades ago.
The ride itself is usually about nine hours long, just enough time for you to go through every CD in your car, start singing in another language, and still have enough left over to nearly fall asleep a few dozen times before the rumble strips force you back into consciousness. Hours upon hours had passed before darkness inevitably begun to spread, I hadn't even gotten to Roswell yet while the sun sunk beneath the horizon and due to some very domestic living, my night vision wasn't what anyone would call prime, nor was the fact that a thick fog had started to roll in about then, making my quite usually perfect vision as worthless as the dreads. It was about then that I turned my head to look at the speedometer, I wasn't exactly surprised when I looked, the gage itself was maxed out, vehicle going near 120 mph into the unearthly domain of the fog.
If New Mexico is famous for anything, it's it's lack of everything, including any major form of motor traffic. As I went blazing into the mixed soup of darkness and a cloud that had decided the southern half of the state looked like a good landing zone, I passed and evaded maybe a dozen cars total. By the time I had gotten Roswell I was quite intent to drive the city speed limit for a while, wanting the fog to clear up before I tried pulling that stunt again. The fog did eventually break into a steady light rainfall, leaving me to another bout of near psychotic speeding down the highway before rolling into Z's driveway at roughly a quarter till Ten.
I still find it amazing how one tiger can complain so much about there being nothing to do when I commonly create something to entertain myself with unless sleep is a better option. Both of us knew the original planning of this outgoing and were quite pleased when his parents and siblings made themselves scars e. As I had said earlier here, if he had been in much better physical condition, we may have wound up as lovers, but since his upbringing hadn't exactly helped with either his girth or with what I still call "self-induced worthlessness" of which Z tended to break down into whenever things seemed to have lost a hope of a silver lining, which, unfortunately for the both of us, was more often than not.
The stay itself was fairly uneventful, save for some much needed talking face to face, walking, sharing stories and random flights of fancy as well as explaining some little tidbits about unpleasant past events with little twists and turns here and there. After some time, returning there for the night for showering and dinner, I was graciously pushed aside while Z played his flights of fancy with a bovine whom he'd never met before, something that I was quite guilty of doing as well. Though far apart from my now mate, I still made an opportunity to pay her a visit, albeit short, but it was enough to just say that I missed her something horrid and would be hers and hers alone before the years end. It was at the end of the pleasantries when I went to check something on the colleges web-site, only to find out that the school that I was going to one of the extreme few that did not have MLK day off, making tomorrow the day I'd have to remove myself back to Boulder. This is where my first major blunder came through.
It is a fairly old lupine saying "If you're not hunting, sleep or play" and I unfortunately was about to receive something that should have been treated as a last resort tool than a play thing. Our good-bye's were long and the kiss that we held each other to was quite pleasant, though I still joke with him that, if I would have had second thoughts about this kiss, would have been brought about because it seemed he was trying to bite my tongue off. The taste of light salt and heavy saliva was thick on Z's tongue, making it's entire surface almost smooth above those thick blurbs that felines are quite famous for having. It was after this that he placed a rather surprising question that I wasn't exactly prepared for, the question was something that had been somewhat on my mind the entire trip, but when it came out, each word fairly choked, all he asked was, if there had been time, could he have had oral sex with me. I did answer as to not lie to myself or to him, rather bluntly I would have enjoyed that to no end and I believe that he would have as well. It was after these parting words that he handed me a card, within it's white folds was a Shell gas card, originally given to him by his grandparents for school, now entrusted to me though it was only supposed to be used to get me back to boulder and then immediately be sent back.
The trip back was completely uneventful, I had stopped twice for fuel just as I had on the way down, leaving the bill just a little bit over 60$ but leaving me with possibly one of the dumbest ideas a soul could have. Back up in the dorms I had written out the letter, addressed it, postage added and promptly discarded it into the bowels of my desk.. This would turn into possibly one of the biggest moments of stupidity in the eighteen years I've been roaming this planet. I tucked the card into my desk as well, leaving it to sit amongst last semesters failures.
After a while I forgot about the card, a very short while that was. I had taken it as my private task to hunt down as many furs in the state as possible and unfortunately for me, I lacked a steady paying job that wouldn't shove me into working weekends or queer hours of the day or night. My attention slipped back to that piece of plastic sitting in the drawer, believing fully that, say, another thirty dollars a month would go fairly un-noticed. By the end of my major little fuck-up, I was having to fill the tank of my vehicle nearly once a week, and considering that the the little green plymoth I've been driving gets roughly 600 miles per the tank, it meant that I was traveling far more than any unemployed student should be able to. By the end of the entire ordeal, I'd amassed roughly two hundred dollars on the card, something that by my families standard was just a drop in the bucket seeing as how their combined income was a good deal over 100k per year, until my father was laid off that is, but it still hovered near 100k. I on the other hand, was broke save what that card afforded me.
It was during this time that I caught up with a black panther that lived almost within walking distance, though his family would soon turn against me, I had killed my better judgment just because he was another one of the few furs scattered about the state and from him I'd managed to develop and start a fur-meet winch, since my little banishment back to the mountains, has apparently become a thing of the past. To me it appears as if the panther had expected everyone to come to him for advice, stories, life skills instead of pressing to organize our little group. He had done the task of getting a hold of a few furs here and there, and I had done the same, pulling together sixteen furs into one place, of which thirteen were enjoyable to be around where as the other three, well, were enough to make your skin crawl.
My general ignorance, and the fact that during that period, I was easily swayed by others, especially in the guise of generosity, made picking my slim savings to nothing via small purchases of food and what not quite easy to do, eventually leeching out about a grand from me in that little period of time, though he did help me off and on throughout. Had I not bumped into him, the first job that I held that was not fire-arms related was working for a company known as Vector Marketing, selling a set of knives akin to the famous K-Bar branch since they were manufactured from the same factories. The job itself was simple and paid well, but it really was a sales position that denied any form of advertised marketing past word of mouth, making actually making the appointments as bad as working like some telemarketers to close family and friends. This pleasant source of income was once again halted by my families intervention, showing their extreme dislike of having to not only pay for your supplies before taking them, but for the fact that it required travel that is not consistent with school.
As far as my schooling was going at that time, I had started to petition the dean to drop calculus since the class was held at an awkward hour in the morning, and it was near impossible to jog across the campus from bio-chem to where the strangest little Asian woman I have ever seen was teaching. Upon first entering the class, I was uncertain if she was male or female and if it weren't for her name, I would still probably be guessing it. With concern to the other courses I was taking, I had kept up mostly except for the testing, which I've proven to be atrocious at on nemorous occasions, my fingers are much more inclined to learn by doing then my eyes were to logging painfully long segments of text into an already otherwise occupied mind. I had already signed up for my own failure once again, and I was completely blinded as to where the road before me was leading.
There have been quite a few instances where my timing has been anything but troublesome, and as I watched the world around me spin into a black void, leaving me set against my family who I had made rather bluntly aware that they were coping very poorly with the fact that I wore a fur coat from the tip of my nose to the ends of my toes, the set tail waving behind me nor the fact that my senses were greatly more acute than any of theirs. My reactions to this little reality were much more mundane tan theres was because they wished me to be exactly what they wanted, giving me no room for any differences save boiling myself down into an andragonous life-style mold that would leave me as nothing more than a hollowed out shell. It's almost funny how they originally reacted to my very blunt statements now that I look back upon them, the utter shock in their eyes when I came out of my proverbial half closet, one part almost impossible to miss while the other ground against their self-imbued morals like heart diseased into a severely clogged artery, apparently sexual divinations were the greatest sin imaginable, even after my romp with the gas card.
It takes the minds of the overly religious and those out of the military years ago to turn events like those from just unnerving into a living hell, to top it off the rest of that semester at school had gone... poorly to say the very best considering I ended up taking incomplete in all of my courses. Right now I sit between these places, this place of endless torment where I have a roof over my head and food for my muzzle but little in the way of comfort seeing as how the occupants and myself barley get along enough to not go at each others throats more than daily which was still more than plenty to build a great deal of dislike from all sides.
There were moments where cold, calculating and indifferent work worlds of wonder but this is not one of them, instead it ended up getting the exact opposite effect I had hoped for once again, wishing for peace and tranquility when working and telling people to depart is impossible when their capacity to listen is similar to that of a corpse. For now I sit here in a holding pattern, waiting for my release from what was once my home but has now become my prison.
Ended in Waiting
From the place I type this, my eyes begin to water again, a single stream of tears flowing along the length of my muzzle, thoughts drifting to the one whose return I await several times a day. I'm tempted to completely break, to see if I cant somehow throw away everything just at a chance of being able to hold her tight against my chest. Our languages may be different, customs as well, but when someone you care for causes this much hurt and worry just from dissipearing, your heart tends to swell up like a balloon when allowed to hold them again.
Vision now blurred by a constant stream of salty water dampening my cheeks farther while inkling it's scent into my snout, the overly sensitive nose upon it's tip catching more than I press myself to think about. There is a silver lining somewhere in this, possibly, but the chances of it being more than just the rims of the clouds will have to wait until December, when some semblance of my life might come back together or leave me searching high and low in a massive city in another country for the only soul to touch me in this way.
These are the confessions and pieces of the life of Desert Wolf