A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Werewolves under moonlight | April 28, 2010

When werewolves of today, such as myself shape shift during lunar week, it’s usually done indoors. I shape shift because of my werewolf biology that balances with my human side. My body has a compelling need to be something much more free than the whole human part of me.

Shape Shifting for me is mostly done in the company of others and I do it indoors. Mostly because it’s what I’ve conditioned myself, my wolf self to put up with. Because I live in a city. Which is about as natural to a werewolf as a desert is to Eskimos.

It’s a natural progression throughout time and our history that werewolves would evolve from beasts of the forests to counterparts of the urban city jungle. But there’s something to be said for being outdoors in werewolf form. It’s somewhat of a luxury and for me and mine.

There’s a sense of natural instinct and train of thought for the werewolf when its on solid ground, sniffing at dirt and animal scents on the cool night air. The feel of grass and dew underfoot is somewhat of an indulgence. Whenever I shape shift outdoors it’s like a new experience. It’s exciting. Probably because I don’t really do it all that often. After all, the New York werewolf packs have a big, old, golden rule about not shape-shifting in public, in front of humans.

Can’t freak the dears out.
Or get caught on video and become a you tube star.

Still some of us *whistles innocently* on “occasion”, get the urge to be one with our wolf outdoors. It’s these kinds of urges that a werewolf should not ignore. Because being a werewolf requires more than a semblance of self control. Bad shit can happen to you, those around you if you allow yourself to become feral and wild without true thought. And nobody wants to deal with the bad stuff. Just ruins the party.

If I were in Manhattan and felt the need to run and romp, I ‘might’ head out and hideout around Central Park, fairly late at night. Or if I were in Brooklyn, I’d probably sight prospect park as good place to get in tune with my natural self. The parks have a few hundred acres of nature and woodland for us to sniff and whiff around and enjoy under the cover of darkness at night.

Paris and I were making out under a tree, like a couple of hormonal teenagers, as we roughly yanked and pulled clothing off one another. The mixture of night time, a sense of urgency as the moon rose higher, made him harder and me hotter as we kept the contact of one another together. I straddled his lap and he eased me down as his mouth consumed sensitive skin that tightened against the cold night air. I was oblivious to the feel of cold, because the heat he was generating, was like pouring fuel onto an already full fire, that was my body.

We moved, hurriedly and Paris bit his lip, hard, to keep quiet. We didn’t want to attract any attention, human or wolf alike. We wanted to mate outdoors, in the comfort of night and under the essence of the full moon. Before we shape shifted and wandered around the park. For us, being so carefree and outdoors, doing the things we would do indoors at nightclubs was like the equivalent of being at Disneyland.


We moved together with a synchronicity of werewolves who were fated together in this life and every other. His body warmed and encouraged mine, as I increased the pace of our fevered outdoor adventure. We’d decided to sneak away from the regular club scene, for the last part of the night. The latest part of the night as we could make it, before I would shape shift first, before him. I always felt the pull of the moon and the shape shift much earlier than he did. Just how it is being a beta werewolf.

Paris warned we couldn’t be out in the parkland all night long. He said only an hour or two. Which would mean, he would need to bring me out of my shape shift later on so I could get redressed and humanized to leave the park, or he’d have to carry my furry rump out of their without looking like he was kidnapping a wolf. Either was, it was apparent he was trying to be the Alpha leader he was meant to be. To do the right thing, and not get caught. But he was also trying to please his pack mate, me by allowing me to indulge in our little down in the dirt, romp. I think he found the risk of getting caught, exciting.

Typical adrenaline junkie. It’s all about the rush. Who was I to complain? I was loving the ride and of course the illicit secrecy of what we were getting away with. My body was suddenly seized by building pleasure racking it. I gasped, throwing my head back, my hair flying out around the back of me like a wave of night itself. Paris could no longer contain his quiet and he cried out, his voice filling the otherwise silent air as he joined me in riding out the sensation of our being together. We could no longer hold back our pleasure or wanted to. Paris howled , filling the night around us as I slackened in his embrace and rested my head on his pounding chest.

The feel of his heart, thudding against his skin. A sound of something that’s mine. Telling me it was racing to met the moon, as it had met me, made me smile.

Werewolves under moonlight, is there anything sexier?


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