
Tamed By The Feral Woman
Losing my virginity to the Wolf Lady of Oregon Butte
I’ve been searching for Big Foot my entire adult life. It’s a lonely pursuit, which is why I’m still a virgin at the age of 36. Has it been worth it? Not even a little. I’ve got no blurry video footage, no shit samples, and no footprint casts.
A more sensible person would give up, but I’ve become so anti-social at this point, that I’m still more likely to see Sasquatch than a human vagina. Part of me hopes I stumble upon a hungry Grizzly bear that will put me out of my misery.
It sure is beautiful out here, though. I’m hiking the Oregon Butte Trail along the Oregon-Washington border in the Blue Mountains, where there hasn’t been a Big Foot sighting in over 20 years. I figure this place is due for one.
The forest is bustling with animal life. I spot brightly-colored birds, majestic deer, and even an elusive wolverine. There’s still no sign of Big Foot, but I’ve only been out here for four days. Two of the five camera traps I set up have gone missing, though, which tells me he must be nearby. It’s not like a wolverine would make off with a video camera.
As I’m hiking along the trail, I come across a tree knot that looks like a giant pussy. It is a thing of beauty and I can’t take my eyes off it. I explore it with my fingers until thick sap oozes out and coats my palm. This tree is ready to be fucked.
With my clean hand, I undo my fly and take out my cock. It’s already hard. When I touch myself with my sticky sap-covered hand, I get even harder. I stroke myself slowly, savoring the smells and sounds of nature. Though it’s a bit cold out here, I’m in no hurry.
But then a twig snaps behind me.
I turn just in time to see a furry blur disappear into the trees. Big Foot! It has to be! What other animal would stop to watch a human jerk off?
I stuff my boner back into my pants, grab my gear, and sprint towards the commotion. Ole’ Sasquatch may have gotten away, but in his haste, he left behind some clues this time. In addition to some sandy-colored hairs on low-hanging branches, there are two sets of fresh tracks in the mud. One clearly belongs to an adult male gray wolf, but the other was definitely made by a bipedal primate. The primate’s prints are strikingly small — maybe about a woman’s size seven. Perhaps “Big Foot” is an ironic name. In any case, I plan to find out for sure.
I follow the tracks for a good half mile before arriving at the mouth of a cave. In front of the entrance, there are several more sets of wolf prints, though still only one primate set. If Sasquatches hang out with wolves, that could explain why nobody can ever get close to them. Or maybe some people have gotten close and didn’t live to tell the tale.
Wolves are not to be trifled with, but I didn’t come this far to turn back now. I grab a flashlight and a can of mace out of my pack and proceed cautiously into the cave.
It turns out the flashlight isn’t necessary because as soon I’m inside, I see a flickering orange glow. I proceed towards it until I come to a large open space under an opening in the ceiling. A toasty fire crackles in the center of the area directly under the skylight.
Behind the fire is a naked woman next to a pile of animal skin clothes on a bed of grass between two growling wolves. The woman grunts, and the wolves trot towards me. I prepare my mace and brace for an attack, but the wolves keep walking right past me.
Once we’re alone, the woman spreads her legs and begins to rub her pussy. Like the clueless idiot I am, I just stand there slack-jawed watching her pleasure herself until she beckons me over.
Seeing her up close, I realize she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Her legs and armpits are furry like a hippy, but her hair is exceptionally shiny, and her skin is clean and smooth. She’s curvy and strong, with large, firm tits and thick legs. Like her canine siblings, her eyes are a stunning crystal blue.
I remain frozen at the foot of her bed, too terrified to make a move. Luckily, she’s not as shy as I am. From her knees, she reaches up and gropes my package, sniffing it and nuzzling it with her cheek. My cock grows warm as blood once again rushes to the area.
She unzips me, allowing my erection to spring forth and slap her in the nose. For a moment I think she’s going to bite me, but instead, she simply regards my throbbing rod with curiosity. She touches it cautiously and then examines her fingers. That’s when I remember I still have tree sap on my dick.
After rubbing it gently, she realizes there’s only one way to get it off. She takes my cock in her mouth, swirling with her tongue and sucking from tip to testicles. The sensation is overwhelming, and if I hadn’t already jerked off three times today, I wouldn’t be able to contain myself.
Once my dick is clean, she pulls me down onto the bed and climbs on top of me. Though she moves with power, she brings her lips to mine with a tenderness that surprises me. I had always assumed French kissing was a cultural phenomenon, but apparently, it’s as instinctual as the rest of the human mating ritual.
Sitting upright, she rubs my cock against her entrance until she is good and moist, then she slips me inside of her. My first time in a cunt is everything I had ever hoped it would be and more. Could this be her first sexual experience as well? The grace with which she controls her hips tells me it isn’t.
There’s no brutality or aggression; only slow, rhythmic motion. Her nails, as sharp as daggers, rest upon my chest to help her balance. I keep expecting them to dig into my flesh, but it never happens.
For my part, I’m fighting like hell to keep it together. I was ready to pop after my very first thrust, but I want to make this last. I try closing my eyes and thinking about Big Foot; it doesn’t help. I give up after 10 seconds because I want to see her face again.
She takes my hands and places them on her tits. I squeeze them tight, rolling her Hershey Kiss nipples between my fingers. She moans with pleasure, so I squeeze tighter.
I’m getting harder and she’s getting wetter, and as the pounding in my chest intensifies, it becomes clear we’re building towards something. The sound of our popping pelvises echoes off the cave walls. The shadows cast by the dancing flames look like primal drawings come to life. The animals inside us are about to be released.
I’m expecting her to howl like her brethren, but as the moment arrives, she gets quiet. Clenching with her insides, she shivers as though caught outside in a cold rain. It’s the shivering that sends me crashing over the waterfall. With her still rocking on my cock, I blast my load deep into her steaming cunt.
Exhausted from the effort, she collapses onto my chest. At first, it sounds like she’s purring, but then I remember; she’s a canine, not a feline.
“You’re an amazing creature,” I whisper.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she says. “For a human, at least.”
“Holy shit, you can talk?”
“Of course I can. I wasn’t adopted by the pack until I was 13. They figured raising me was the least they could do after they ate my parents in front of me.” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe that was 15 years ago. I’m the Alpha now, if you can believe it. Where does the time go?”
“Damn. It must have been pretty upsetting to watch your parents get eaten like that.”
She shrugs. “They were hunters; they had it coming. Anyway, you should probably get out of here before my boyfriend comes back.”
“You have a boyfriend?”
“We’re not into labels, but he’s a Sasquatch, so he can get pretty jealous.”
“Hold on now. I’ve been looking for Big Foot my whole life. Is there any chance I can stick around and meet him?”
She laughs. “Not if you want to keep your face and genitals.”
And so, I do the walk of shame through the Pacific Northwest with a satisfied smile on my face. I entered these woods a lonely virgin, desperate for the tiniest shred of evidence that Big Foot exists. Though I failed at my initial mission, I succeeded in something far greater — genuine human connection and my first sexual encounter. And while I may be leaving without a Big Foot photo or stool sample, I did manage to snag a pair of his girlfriend’s deerskin panties.
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