There's something about winter that brings out the Wanda in us all, who doesn't long for the luxurious sensuality of fur to add an aristocratic cruelty to proceedings. Now of course I'm furiously against animals being killed for their pelts, but I was left a full length mink by my Grandmother, that I do pull out for my guilty pleasures.
The shame adds a certain frisson as I lie in front of the fire, naked apart from the coat, stroking my hands underneath it. I feel strong, invulnerable in the ancient animal. Sometimes my beloved watches me, it amuses me to have him naked and collared, crawling like a dog, while my hide makes me more dominant, like his Alpha.
I bare my teeth, the fur falling away from my slippery body, I rub it over my breasts, my sex. It becomes soaked with my musk, as I stroke it into me I can't tell where it ends and my own pelt begins.
He whimpers and I howl.
The shame adds a certain frisson as I lie in front of the fire, naked apart from the coat, stroking my hands underneath it. I feel strong, invulnerable in the ancient animal. Sometimes my beloved watches me, it amuses me to have him naked and collared, crawling like a dog, while my hide makes me more dominant, like his Alpha.
I bare my teeth, the fur falling away from my slippery body, I rub it over my breasts, my sex. It becomes soaked with my musk, as I stroke it into me I can't tell where it ends and my own pelt begins.
He whimpers and I howl.
