Background StoryWIPwip wip
There, I fed Grok my draft. A bit unnecessarily long and I should have edited it better... or just kept my draft and worked on it, but eh. I'M LAZY ! *heads to couch*.
*
The lazy heat had left Kat sprawled sideways on the couch, one leg brazenly lifted, his throbbing cock on shameless display, framed by a wild blaze of red pubic hair. The stranger’s hand - clad in sleek, elbow-long leather - gripped his length with a cruel, possessive intensity, a tease that had started as a spark and now blazed into a torturous inferno. Those deft fingers, once stroking with wicked intent, had abruptly stilled, leaving Kat stranded on the edge of ecstasy, his body aching, howling for release.
With a low, guttural whine, Kat surrendered to instinct. Slowly, deliberately, he rolled his hips, grinding his slick, pulsing shaft through the hand’s iron grasp. The leather was cool, unyielding, a maddening contrast to the feverish heat of his skin. Each thrust was a dance of desperation, his cock gliding through the glove’s tight embrace. Precum drooled in thick, glistening ropes, smearing across his pulsing shaft and dripping onto the couch, staining the fabric with his need. His foreskin, taut and slick, began to peel back, shyly at first, revealing the flushed, pinkish tip of his glans. Each thrust grew bolder, the foreskin retracting further, gliding smoothly until his blood-gorged glans stood fully exposed, gleaming obscenely under the light. The sensation was exquisite - sharp, almost painful, as he pushed to the limits of his taut frenulum, savoring the sweet sting before retreating, only to chase it again.
Kat’s tail gave a slow, needy wag, his body betraying his surrender to the moment. He quickened his pace, hips bucking with feral urgency, the wolf in him clawing for climax. But the hand - oh, that cursed, cunning hand - had other plans. With a sorcerer’s precision, it began to move, mirroring his rhythm, countering his thrusts with masterful strokes that nullified his efforts. It was as if the stranger could read every twitch, every shudder, every pulse of his aching cock, denying him the peak he craved. Kat whimpered, a broken, frustrated whine, a silent beg for mercy.
He tried everything - slowing to a teasing grind, then surging with frantic need - but the hand was relentless, a puppeteer pulling his strings. Defeated, Kat stilled, chest heaving, face buried in a pillow, his cock throbbing, veins stark against his flushed skin. But even that surrender was futile. The hand, as if mocking his submission, began to stroke again - agonizingly slow, deliberate, pausing to toy with his heavy, fur-dusted balls, stroking the soft, velvety fuzz, rolling them with a tenderness that was its own kind of torture. The other hand joined the assault, gliding along the sensitive, softly-haired insides of his thighs, tracing slow, deliberate circles that sent shivers racing up his spine. Kat’s tail went limp, his body a quivering mess of unspent desire, caught in this exquisite hell.
The dance resumed, a maddening cycle of varied paces, each thrust bringing him closer to the edge. His cock pulsed, oozing precum in a steady stream, his breath hitching as he closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable release. He was there - so close - his entire being coiled tight, ready to unravel. But at the precise moment he teetered on the brink, the hand clamped down, a brutal squeeze that snuffed out his climax like a candle in a storm. Kat’s whimper broke into a near-sob, his body trembling, his anus throbbing with unspoken pleas. “Lemme cum... ... please...” he hiccupped, voice barely a whisper, his tail limp, his wolf-pride shattered. The camera on its tripod stood silent witness, capturing every moment of his exquisite torment - promising more to come.
gallerycharasask3commissions