“I don’t want to die,” he sobbed. As such, I began rubbing my swollen cunt across the shaft. While I rode my wolf, I looked down at him. I was directing at his mid-level. The thick leather strap came undone and I sat back, anticipating an adverse reaction to the sudden freedom he had. “And I plan to eat you.”
A whimper was my reply. Though I wasn’t sure to myself why I would care what the wolf thought. With a sigh, I went back to the cabin. Maybe he struggled with the prospect but after a few more moments of slathering his cock up, I decided that it was time to try again. Imagine my elation when he tensed up. “I can do this,” I said again. “Small enough that the availability of males was only three. One of the first indicators of being feral is the over-consumption of food variety.
