Sugar Cookie

"Easiest way to overcome a hangover is with the hair of the dog that bit you."

You woke up with a pounding headache.
Your mouth tasted of puke, whiskey, and...something else you couldn't quite place.
You were in a place you didn't recognize, wearing an oversized shirt you didn't own.
And, most importantly, you-
"Well, well, well, Look who's finally back from the dead..."
Your sight whipped around to the other side of the bed.
Sitting on the edge, wearing your leather jacket and nothing else, was a large she-wolf.
A freshly-lit cigarette clutched between her furry fingers, and a cocky smile on her face.
Between her undressed state, and the soreness of your hips, you easily came to a certain conclusion on how your night went.
With a voice not nearly as masculine as you'd have liked to muster, you ask the bi -she-wolf- about last night's events.
Her grin grew three sizes, displaying way more teeth than you were comfortable with seeing so early in the day.
She took a long drag of the cigarette and added her own contribution to the dingy motel's tobacco-stained ceiling.
"Well that's obvious: Mister 'I don't think anthros are attractive' here got one taste of cookie and couldn't handle it."
Wait...
No. That's definitely NOT what happened last night, right?
You were out with your friends, at the pub down the street...
"And" she continued for you, "You got so hammered that I could smell the booze on you before you even got close."
She pantomimed holding a stein, and swayed a bit in place. A goofy smile on her face as she recreated your blitzed stance.
"You were all like 'Hheeyy schweet sthuff, How'd ya like t'have a taste o' domestication?' while barely able to stay bipedal!"
She fixed you with a glare, and the smile disappeared for a bit as those amber eyes bored into yours.
"Honestly? It kinda pissed me off. This wasn't some porno; I was trying to have a nice time after work..."
Well, you're still in once piece so...
"So I figure 'Why not put this humie in his place?' and dragged you here."
You didn't...she didn't...
No way you'd stoop so low, not with a bitch like that!
She smiles, eyes wide and wild with glee, as if she was waiting for your realization.
"Oh, but we did! And you know what the best part of it was?"
She pounced on you, pinning you under her weight!!
"You came! Like a fucking freight train!"
She leaned in closer, and you could smell the scent of smoke and sex-funk wafting off of her.
"You kept going on about how 'shameful' it was, and how much you were 'debasing' yourself, but you were still rock hard the whole time."
Oh god...
She leaned over to grab a blocky-looking phone from the night stand, thumbing through something until she turned it to show you.
There you were, face red with drunken delight, legs hiked around her shoulders...
And balls-deep in that exotic snatch of hers.
She took a fucking selfie of herself riding your dick.
"I hadn't even heard of the 'Amazon Position' before that, you know? Reeaall big fan of it now, though."
You wanted to look away, but in your horror you couldn't. The image seared itself into your memory the longer you looked at it.
It was fake, right? Some clever photo editing to blackma-
"Like I'd need to extort some wage-slave! Face the facts: you put your hand in the cookie jar and liked what you found."
"And those self-degrading comments? Shut right up the moment I got your legs on my shoulders. When you finally sank that dick of yours into the place it really belonged from the get-go."
She leaned in and whispered "You only begged for more from that point on, you know. Only wanted me to do more and more 'shameful' things to you."
Your face was getting hotter, reddening from something other than booze.
"Let's see... You wanted me to fuckin' BITE you, for starters. Wanted me to claim you as a 'beta', or something..."
"Also you asked if I had any friends so that we could take turns breaking your hips under, and I quote, our 'wonderful wolven legs' while writing shit in marker on your chest."
"You even mentioned getting a tattoo, but no: that shit's expensive for a one-night stand. Also...kind of embarrassing. Your browser history's gotta be something intense, man..."
You asked her if she could just kill you and get it over with.
"Haha, no way. Your friends are probably waiting for you to come back with stories of triumph."
But all you have are-
"Memories of being fucked silly...well at least you WOULD, you lush."
Her ears perked up, and she leaned back.
"Well look who's up and ready for round six..."
Standing proud, free of any confines like boxers or plush furry thighs, your traitorous erection reached for the sky.
Or, you suspected, towards the warm and wet place it was apparently deep inside last night.
"Did all the strolling down memory lane do it for you, or were you just that eager to slip back inside?"
Rough pawpads circled around the base of your dick, now happily twitching away in her grasp.
Her hips raised a bit and you could see that her recounting has had a similar effect on herself.
God, she was so wet you wonder how you didn't feel it pooling around you!
"Well I know I'm itching for a top-off before I go. What do you say, now that you're all sober and back to being a speciest douche?"
You looked to her, the hulking wolf-woman who held your precious part in her fingers.
The shit-eating grin that hadn't left her face.
The way her sex baptized your born-again member in holy oils with each second.
You shouldn't. You knew you could brush away last night as the ramblings of some mongrel, but...
The vision before you was too much to bear.
You agreed, avoiding eye-contact as if you could avoid admitting defeat by doing it.
To her credit, there was no snappy rejoinder, nor a witty one-liner.
All she did was descend.
First, the plush lips that kissed your crown like a lover welcoming her mate back.
Then, the draw inward as you were pulled past that plump cushion into the real passage.
You groaned in spite of yourself as she sank further down, gripping you with more than her hand at that point
Swallowing you up.
Placing you back where you belonged.
By the time her hips settled down against yours, you were already a shuddering mess.
She took a moment to drink in your expression. A canine tongue ran over a wolfish muzzle.
"Tell me, skinnie: is it as good as you had hoped?"
"No, don't tell me. You're already leaking so much that anything you say would only be half the truth."
Then she started.
Her movements, contrary to the slow decline, were rough and purposeful.
Hungry and feral.
They were so wonderfully bestial that you could only grit your teeth and clutch the sheets as she extracted her pleasure from you.
But, even if she was being selfish, and focused only on getting herself off, you were in ecstasy from that taboo embrace.
In that small and smoke-filled room, away from the places you were used too, you were free to express yourself.
As that inhuman cunt did its damndest to squeeze another round from you.
As that blessedly thick spade ground into your base from all sides.
As her claws dug into your shoulders and her face pressed against yours.
Her vision filled yours as her hips raised almost entirely off your shaft only to slam back down.
Again, and again, and again until you were sure you'd be walking strangely.
"Tell me you want it!"
"Tell me that you want to fuck pup into me!"
Wait, what?
"Admit that, if you could, you'd give this 'Bitch' a litter of her own!"
"That you'd get your pleasure at seeing her all ready to pop with your seed!"
The images came before you could stop them.
The wolfess, belly round with the result of your frantic mating.
The idea of knocking up the nameless anthro filled your head.
And those thoughts liquefied and collected heavily in your sack.
There was no way you could hold back after imagining that, even if you wanted to.
And you could tell that she noticed too.
"Do it!" she husked, "Let it all out, you fucking pervert!"
She leaned in, breath hot against your ear. "Let me see how badly you want it! NEED it!"
And so you did, hips trying and failing to raise the mass of fur and muscle pinning them to the mattress.
You could practically feel your soul leaving your body with the way you poured your all into her.
The words that came out of your mouth, you still aren't sure what they were.
Just that whatever you said tickled her to no end.
"Good boy." she said when you finally came back to your senses.
You felt tired...
You could sleep for a little longer, right?
With the fur blanket covering you, it was easy enough to do.
...
Your sleep was deep, and dreamless.
And when you woke again you felt like you had just ran a marathon while fighting a heavyweight boxer that also sucked your dick the entire time.
And yet...no shame came rushing up.
You expected it to come, to swallow you up in a fit of self-loathing.
But, as you realized you were alone in the hotel room, it never did.
You were still wearing what you assumed to be her shirt.
And you couldn't find your jacket anywhere!
Damn it all, you really liked that jac-
Your phone was ringing!
Your phone was ringing, and you spent way too long fishing it from the side of the bed where it had fallen at some point.
You weren't sure who "Sam" was, but if the fortune cookie picture was anything to go by, you could take an educated guess.
You answered the call and a familiar voice greeted you.
"Ah. So you're finally awake. Had to bail on you, since SOME of us have businesses to run."
Wait, she owned a business?
"Yep, and now I've got to deal with customers while smelling like some cookie monster's fleshlight."
"But I bet you'd really enjoy that, though: Knowing that everyone, even dull-nosed humans, will know exactly what I was up to?"
You were glad she couldn't see your dick springing up at lightning speed.
"Well, I bet you're probably rock hard again thinking about it."
Fuck!
"Oh, by the way. You still have my favorite shirt and I'll be needing that back. If you look in the breast pocket, there should be some business cards..."
You fished around, undoing a button and fishing out the card from the stack there.
Eggshell with Romalian type. Nice!
On it you read the name: Beschwipste Hündin Brewery.
Never heard of it, but it sounded familiar.
"I should be in my office until ten tonight. Funnily enough, If I'm not mistaken, that pub you went to? Should be carrying my stock, starting next week. I'm planning on celebrating after weeks of dealings, and could use a drinking partner. You free?"
You look to the card, then the shirt you still wore, and the triangular "kiss" mark on the back of it.
Yeah.
You think you can make it!