Werewolf Summer

Until finally her whole body snapped tight like a rope being pulled on both sides, and then a few seconds later went slack, coming down onto the bed and lying there gasping for breath while Randy continued his single-minded exertion behind her. His cock gushed inside of her a few minutes later and she wrapped herself around the hot feeling of it after he pulled out.

Rolling over onto her back she pulled him in for a kiss (the first she'd given him today). "Well good morning," she said, rubbing against the rough and unshaven sides of his face.

"Hey," he said back. "Fuck, we just got up and now I'm exhausted."

"You baby," said Laren, bouncing out of bed. "Get up already."

Randy groaned and buried his face in the pillow. She gave him her most disgusted look. Half of her wanted to be used to his attitude by now, while the other half dreaded the day her standards got that low.

It had turned out that having Randy Jones around for the summer wasn't so bad after all. Their unfortunate encounter a month ago had an icebreaker; when it came time to convince him not to ask too many questions about what the hell had happened, she'd hit on the one and only thing that was likely to really shut him up right away and found that, against all odds, she enjoyed it too.

Since then she'd uncovered some of his hidden talents; not a lot of imagination, but some youthful ardor she could work with. And a significant degree of pliability.

Now she pulled on the sheets until she dumped him out of bed, then ordered him out to take a bath while she opened cabin up to get the smell of sex out of the place. His bare ass made for quite a nice view on its way out of the back door.

The bath tub was an antique, claw-footed thing behind the cabin, and it had to be filled manually with buckets from the kitchen tap, which of course could not summon enough hot water to ever really fill the whole thing. Randy hated it; Laren loved it.

When she was done straightening up she went to the tub too and kicked him out. He didn't argue, but he did say "You could just join me instead," as he stood up, water streaming from him.

"You've had all you're going to get of me for this morning. Wait for afternoon." She smacked his bare bottom as he got out and then slipped into the water. It burned her skin bright red, and she'd stay in until it cooled to near ice and turned her flesh to goosebumps. "But feel free to keep standing there," she said, eyeing his dripping body.

He made a rude gesture, slung a towel around his waist, and went inside. She laughed.

Laren stayed in a long time, eyes closed and listening. There it was: The far-off sound that she'd been waiting for and the creeping scent she'd been catching whiffs of here and there as it slowly grew more potent week in and week out: the moon.

She'd been counting the days. Tonight was finally the night. But she squashed the feeling of giddy anticipation even as it rose up inside of her, because this meant there was one extra chore to get out of the way today.

After her bath she toweled off and went inside. Randy was getting dressed, and the axe laid in the corner said that he was getting ready to chop wood. He was terrible at it, and Laren always ended up doing most of the work herself, but chopping wood in the morning made him feel macho, so she allowed it.

"Look, you have to leave tonight," she said without preamble as she came in the back door. "Take your truck and go into town and get a room at the motel by the highway, and don't come back until tomorrow, okay? Or maybe even the day after tomorrow."

He buckled his belt and zipped up his pants. "Okay, I'll bite: Why?"

"Because I'm telling you to. That's not a good enough reason?" She slipped into her underwear, then pulled jeans and a t-shirt on. He put a hand on her arm and she swatted it away. "No arguments," she said.

"This cabin is my property."

"I rented it."

"Only half of it."

"Well you're only half owner. Are you getting out of here or not?" She put her boots on and grabbed the wood axe before he could get to it. He moved to stand at the door. She hefted the axe in one hand, but he wouldn't budge.

"Look Laren, you're a weird chick," Randy said. She raised an eyebrow but he pushed on. "And that's fine. I like weird. So I haven't asked a lot of questions."

"Most days you ask four stupid things before we're even out of bed in the morning."

"About you I mean, and the crazy shit you do. Like that first morning you showed up in here?"

"I told you, I was drunk."

"I've never seen you drink that much."

"After that I stopped. Wouldn't you?" She tried to push past him.

"I've never seen ANYONE drink that much," he continued. "There's not enough booze in the world. And there's other stuff: the things you eat, the things you say, the shit you do in bed."

"Yeah. But you like me this way." She pressed her nails into his arm. He shrugged.

"Point is, I'm a patient guy. But I've got limits."

"So do I. We're at them. That's why you've got to get lost tonight."

Shoving Randy out of the way, she marched to the wood pile. She had to work off some of this extra energy today or she'd be a basket case by the time the moon came. She'd already split half a dozen logs by the time Randy came out.

"You got a guy coming up here?" he said.

"Nope. Too many of those around already."

"A girl then?"

"You know I could kill you. Nobody's around."

"Then what's the deal?"

"The deal is I'm telling you to go. You want to take my car? Here." She threw the keys. He dropped them. "I've got to blow off some steam tonight and I don't need you. Can you really not go a night or two without me? You didn't seem like the clingy type."

Picking the keys up, he brushed some dirt off them. "I might not come back," he said.

Pausing to wipe the sweat off her brow, Laren smiled. "Yeah you will," she said. "Bring it back with a full tank, okay?"

Even the engine sounded huffy as the car pulled away. Well, that was easier than I expected, she thought. She'd been half afraid she was going to have to hit him over the head and stow him in the trunk tonight.

He'd be in a snit over this later, of course, but that was how men are. Love them or leave them.

After the pile of split wood climbed higher than they'd reasonably need for the rest of the summer she was still antsy, so she got to scrubbing laundry. When the afternoon came it was dry and hot ("The dog days of summer," she thought), so she skipped lunch and went to go find the deepest part of the creek for a swim.

The swimming hole was an out of the way spot made difficult to reach by rocky hills, with just a single patch of beautiful white sound stretched on one shore. The water was black and cool and Laren floated on her back looking at the sky, tracing the silhouette of the moon in the great blue expanse.

Tonight would be a Buck Moon, she knew, but sometimes they called it a Hay Moon or a Thunder Moon. But once you really got to know the moon, you knew it didn't need any name at all.

It was too bad about Randy, she thought, turning over to dog paddle in the water. He'd come back, but now that she'd hurt his pride he might stick around much longer. Young guys were particular about that kind of thing. Part of her wished they could have stretched the fling out for the entire summer, and maybe even after. But there wasn't really room in her life for that kind of thing.

When she'd cooled off enough she stretched out on a towel on the hot sand for a nap, putting a shirt over her face to protect from sunburn while she dozed. Yes, tonight was the Buck Moon, and then next month was the Sturgeon Moon (a silly name). And after that she'd have only a week before the new school year started and she'd have to leave all of this behind.

Nothing ever lasted as long as we'd like, she thought, stretching her long, lazy limbs and remembering the weight of Randy's lean young body on top of her as she drifted off...

Laren snapped awake again. The sky was turning darker blue and she sat up, slightly discombobulated, then yawned and stretched and felt the first delicious tingle of the coming night deep in her bones. It was almost time.

She didn't bother to dress but just gathered her clothes up and scrambled over the rocks. Her stomach snarled; she'd eaten absolutely nothing all day, but she wouldn't bother making dinner now. She'd hunt something big later; a doe, maybe. These woods were full of them. She'd seen them on summer mornings in the meadow behind the cabins, and smelled them at night.

The cabin was just as she'd left it. She dumped her clothes by the door and then went straight back outside without pausing. The dirt and grass rubbed the soles of her feet. The pent-up energy she'd tried to work off all day had simmered inside of her while she slept.

The forest had too many scents tonight. Here and there she caught snatches of familiar smells that disappeared into the crowd almost before she knew they were there. Something was off-kilter, but she didn't have time to think about it. The change was already coming on her.

Coming to a place where the pines parted, she saw that the sky was not yet totally dark. But the moon was there anyway, its light growing stronger by the minute. She closed her eyes and waited. What a day, she thought. And what a night...

A branch snapped. She turned around, ready to jump on whatever was there and drag it to the ground. Only a flickering moment of recognition stopped her when she saw Randy slouched by a tree. "Hey," he said. Then, again, with a slightly different note in his voice, "Hey? What is...what are you doing?"

Laren's brain reeled. She began to hyperventilate. She stammered out, "What are YOU doing? You're supposed to be gone, you unbelievable asshole."

"Yeah, well, I came back to find out what you're up to."

He said it in such a way as to suggest that it was idiotic to ever expect anything else. He took two steps forward and said again, "What are you—"

"Get out of here."

"Look, I'm not putting up with—"

"GET. OUT!" Laren said, and they were the last real words she could manage.

When she dropped to all fours Randy was still coming toward her, maybe thinking she had collapsed. But then he backed up again almost immediately, his eyes going wide. Laren put her head down.

Just run you idiot, she thought. Instead he stood there, like a sapling rooted to the spot, staring while she changed.

When the wind changed direction—it had been blowing the wrong way before, carrying his scent and the sound of his feet away from her—the familiar smell of sweat on his young, firm body wafted across her nostrils.

This was fear sweat now, but it was familiar enough. He smelled absolutely delicious. Laren's stomach growled again. She hadn't eaten ALL day...

Licking her chops, she padded toward him on all fours. Randy, blinking, seemed only now to realize that it was even possible for him to move. "Oh shit," he said to no one at all. Then, louder, "Oh shit!"

He turned to run, although not very quickly or gracefully. Laren held back to let him build up a lead.

After all, it was hours and hours until the sun would be up. She wanted to take her time with this one.

***

August:

Leaning over Randy's body, Laren said, "Just tell me if it hurts?"

He shook his head. "Not too bad."

"Okay," she said, and then slapped him across the face. "How about now?"

Wincing, he nodded. "Yeah, a little more now..."

She could tell he wanted to rub his face, but whenever he tried to move the handcuffs rattled against the headboard. She had him splayed out on the small bed in his cabin, wearing nothing at all, with his wrists chained to posts while she sat on top, running her fingers up and down his bare chest and stomach.

"Poor baby," Laren said, pausing to press the sharp tips of her fingernails into his skin and leaving red crescent marks there. She squeezed him tighter between her thighs and then leaned back so that her cunt pressed against the half-erect length of his cock in his lap.

"Is that better?" she said, tracing the line of his collarbone with a fingertip while she began rubbing back and forth on him.

"Yes..." he said, and then bit his lip. Laren smiled as she watched a bead of sweat trace its way from his temple down to his chin. She slithered up and down on top of him until the velvety wet feeling of her pussy enticed his hot young cock into standing up. Soon the aching bulge of it throbbed against her, pulsing with easily aroused animal need.

"Good boy," she said. And then she slapped him again. He grunted and jerked against the restraints once more, but of course it didn't do any good. When she saw him looking sullen about the cuffs she clucked her tongue.

"Now don't go blaming me," she said. "You were the one who brought them."

"I know," he said, speaking a little gingerly for his sore jaw. "I was assuming you'd wear them."

"If you'd asked, I'd have told you why that was never going to happen." She stroked his cheek with a fingertip and started grinding even harder against him, the throbbing bulge of his penis trapped between her legs and soon becoming wet and slick from rubbing against her. "But you didn't ask..."

"Lesson learned," he said, then breathed in deep when she reached down and circled her fingers around his balls, kneading them in her hands. They felt hot and cool at the same time. She tugged them as playfully as she could and watched him squirm, the rings of the cuffs clattering against the headboard again.

"Baby, I don't think you've learned a lesson in your entire life," Laren said.

"Guess I've had the wrong teachers..."

"Oh, that was a good line. Have you been waiting to use that all summer?" She squeezed him tighter in the palm of his hands, almost until he looked ready to wince again, and then she released, leaning down and pressing her body down on top of his before slithering across the entire length of him, feeling his hard muscles underneath his soft skin writhe.

Her lips trailed hot and wet kisses down his bare chest, and she kept sliding down until her breasts glanced against his erection, which dutifully perked up even more, like a well-trained dog responding to a compliment from its master.

Then she glided right back up him, stopping when they were eye to eye and teasing him with small, soft kisses while she spread her thighs wider and mounted him fully, guiding him inside of her with one hand while she slowly sank back onto him and smiled in satisfaction as his pliant and cooperative young body joined with hers.

"There you go," she said under her breath. "All better now, isn't it?"

"Yes..." he said, gasping and going pale and arching his back and hips trying to get deeper inside of her. And then he said. "Wait, are you about to hit me again?"

"I'm not sure either, let's wait and see," Laren said, and then she bit his lip and began riding him with slow, grinding, intense rolling motions of her hips, reveling in the sweet, hot, thoughtless gratification of having him helpless and squirming and all to herself, until his naked body and shaggy hair gleamed with sweat and he look worn out, wrung-out, and helpless underneath her.

The juices from her body overflowed and mixed with his. After the last four weeks she was now convinced they would never get the smell of fucking out of this little room. It was probably worked into the wood now, like a varnish. The thought made her laugh, and then she bit Randy on the shoulder just to hear him gasp as she pumped on top of him harder.

"I need you to be a good boy and cum for me," she said, whispering in his ear while she grabbed a handful of his hair. He winced and nodded.

"Okay, okay," she said between gasps. "Hang on, hang on, almost..."

She pulled his hair harder, so that his head turned to one side. She saw all of the sinews in his body stand taut like guitar strings underneath his gleaming, sweat-drenched skin and imagined she felt the strained effort of it all through his cock as she buried it deeper inside of her.

"I don't think I want to wait much longer..." she said. He nodded frantically.

"I know, I know, hang on," he said again. "A little bit more...little bit more...oh shit...oh shit!"

And then he thrashed so hard that if she hadn't had him chained up he might have thrown himself out of the bed entirely as he finally came, the pressuring rising up and bursting out of him and shooting deep inside of her. Laren rolled her eyes back in her head and let out a long, throaty growl of satisfaction as she felt him back and twist and jerk and pour everything inside of him out in a hot rush. When it was over he was left panting like a racehorse.

Sighing in satisfaction, Laren hopped up off of him and out of bed. She felt so vibrant and strong that her entire body was practically singing. "Nice job, lover boy," she said. "Another world class performance. You should feel proud."'

"Thanks," Randy said, still panting.

And then, sitting up as far as he could manage, he said, "If you're really all that happy, how about unchaining me today? Letting me leave, maybe?" He tugged at the cuffs again. "Pretty please?"

Laren shook her head. "Now you know better than that," she said. "And quit pulling on the chains, you're just wearing out the headboard."

"I'll buy a new one," said Randy, struggling with the cuffs some more. "We wouldn't have to worry about it if you let me go. Come on!"

"Now honey, you know we can't have that." Laren pulled a t-shirt down over her head. "Not until I'm gone. You'll go to town and tell people my secret."

He squirmed. "I won't."

"You will."

"I won't."

"You're lying."

"How do you know?"

"I can smell it."

Freezing in place, he looked at her. "Is that really something you can do?"

"You'll never know for sure." She sat on the bed again and touched his cheek. "You should let me shave you."

"I don't trust you with a razor."

"If I wanted to kill I'd have done it already."

"I don't think you WANT to kill me. I just don't think you're all that concerned if it happens by accident."

Rolling her eyes, Laren swatted one of his bare thighs and went to make breakfast.

Back in July, Randy had saved himself the same way he did everything: through luck and incompetence.

No sooner had the chase started than he ran headlong into a tree and knocked himself cold. Laren, suddenly no longer interested, had moved on to other things.

But the question of what to do with him the morning after that wasn't so easy. The solution she came to—chaining him to the bed, of course—was admittedly not the best. But then, she hadn't been in the best of moods when she'd thought of it. And since she still hadn't thought of anything better four weeks later, here he still was.

It was inconvenient, of course, having to look after him. She would snap the cuffs together like leg irons on his ankles as he hobbled back and forth to the outhouse and the bath. His earliest escape attempts lacked so much imagination that even he gave up on them relatively quickly.

"The lease is up in a week," she said from the kitchen. "After that I'm gone."

"And you'll let me go then?" Randy said.

"I'll have to, won't I?" She cracked four eggs into a skillet. The grease popped and burned her wrist. "You don't have it all bad, you know. I make you breakfast in bed every day. Can't say that about any other guy I've ever known."

She came back to the bed with eggs on a plate, cut a bite, and held it out to him. He eyed the eggs now as if he didn't trust them.

"The thing is, how do I KNOW you're going to let me go in a week?" he said.

"Life is full of uncertainty. Eat your eggs."

"Tonight's a full moon."

"Have you been counting? Smart boy. If you don't eat this I will."

"What's going to happen tonight?"