A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Omegas | July 23, 2010

The lunar week is here, so you know..lock up your daughters, your front doors, and all that. Or not.  We werewolves don’t exactly go lunatic crazy anymore. Give us a little bit of respect, we’ve got things more under control than that.  Have to if you’re going to live and breathe in today’s world.

Nobody’s virtue is going to get snatched up and taken away by a furry beast smashing into their bedroom late at night under the light of the moon.  Not unless they’re deliberately seeking it out.  And there’s no need to go trashing houses to do that.  You just have to know the clubs to hit in NYC.  Or the right person to direct you to where you want to go, for whatever, it is you seek.

Paris and I decided to hit one of the clubs that catered to the virtuous. These clubs pop up for the week before and during lunar week. Then they shut down and move around for the next lunar week, the following month.  They provide a service of sorts. Omegas who want to dance with the werewolves then some.

Of course, these kinds of places, need to be regulated, and have tabs kept on them. Which is why Paris and his leiutents were scoping the current place in Korea Town out.  I was Paris’s guest pass and cover.  Horny wolf girl and horny wolf boy want to be horny in a horny club where there are  horny humans, is the basic cover story.

This club, was the latest to spring up.  Some where acceptable and seemed to understand what they were dealing with in terms of their clientele. But not all, and that’s where Paris comes in. As Alpha of the Manhattan Maen pack,  he can’t have potential disaster areas springing up in his territory.

Omegas is a nickname, one of the nicer ones, we give to nons, who want to have sexual encounters with werewolves.  They deliberately seek us out, just for the experience.  This kind of encounter isn’t encouraged, during lunar week, when werewolf abilities are usually somewhat strained and put to the test in terms of control and sensibility.  But a few days prior, and the omega’s still get the benefits of werewolf sex.  There are omegas that just want, what they want regardless of consequences.  The idea of becoming a lycan, through a bit of rough sex, or accidental clawing, biting, to them is often a misguided romantic notion of being a werewolf.

We walked  down into a  dimly lit bar.

There is no dance floor, like in the wolf clubs for everyone to congregate and rub up against one another one. No communal place other than the one bar, you pass as you walk into the den of erotic sexuality.

Bright paper lanterns decorate the ceiling. The walls or barriers between rooms and alcoves, are of dark wooden design and have cut out pieces throughout.  So that they give the sense of privacy in your own alcove area, but so that you can still see what is going on, in bits and pieces, in the adjoining hide-away next to you.

Hard to tell if they’re catering to the voyeur crowd or thinking of security purposes. But then again, I didn’t see any obvious security cameras.

The layout of the alcoves and seating areas, is like a mini-maze. Kind of no wide, open spaces or big lay outs.  Just intimate areas for various sized groups, filled with cushions, seating and the occasional table.

We decided on a hide away in a dimly lit area, that overlooked one of the larger rooms. A slightly raised room. Music plays throughout and people are drinking cocktails and playing, in most alcoves, that we can see from our vantage point.   The other Manhatten Maen leiutents are scattered throughout the den.

We have our little area of darkened desire, all to ourselves.

I was scoping out the interior , swaying my hips from side to side, before I even realized I was dancing.  Paris sat down directly in front of me and watched.  I felt his gaze on me, as I dragged my eyes away from the scene unfolding in the next alcove beside ours, back to his face.

“Wanna dance?”

He grins back at me.  His arms spread out on the top of a comfy leather wall couch.

“Remember what happened last time we danced together?”

“Oh you think, you did that? You big powerful werewolf.” I ask moving more.

He shrugged his shoulders loosely. Still watching me, as I kept glancing through the cut out wall pieces, to the alcove beside our room. The blonde woman in there, was dancing sensually for her lone audience. Taking her top off.

“So you don’t want risk the chance that it’ll happen again?” I asked him, looking back at Paris.  “Cause I’m sure it was such a hardship on you the first time.”

Paris chuckled and reached out to me and dragged me down onto him.

“It was so hard.” He said, emphasizing the last word.  We both looked over at the other room’s occupants.  The blonde woman was taking off her bra for the werewolf male on the other side.  The beta wolf’s desire spiked the air and both Paris and I sensed it, not only because we were close, but because it was strong.  Which indicated he was a wolf, that was easily affected by the lunar cycle.

Blondie was playing with fire and she didn’t even know it.

It’s hard not to be turned on, when you can feel the sexual energy of others in the air, beating at your skin. The den of mazes, had a mixed smell, a hint of incense and for those with extra sensory abilities, like yours truly can sense. Lycans, werewolves and humans in the mix.

It was interesting and also potentially, very dangerous for whoever was seeking the lycans out.  At least the werewolves would be accountable – to their pack, their Alpha, for anyone they  might infect with lycanthropy in there, through an over eager bite.

The horny lycans weren’t accountable to anyone.  Which was the way most of them liked it.  Humans had so much to learn in terms of the differences between the two wolf breeds. Sex with a lycan, near lunar week, that had to be an incredibly dangerous game to play.  Maybe it was intoxicating too, thinking of the risk.  But I’d say foolish.

Paris and I looked at one another and I slid further down his lap, getting myself comfortable on him, rubbing against his pants, arching myself backwards, slowly with practiced control.  My hair hanging heavily down, as my breasts jutted up through my dress.  My nipples hardened as I heard his moan, as his hands pushed up my thighs, moving my dress up higher.  As I moved, slowly pulling my body back upright to look at him.

I could feel the stares of others, watching us.  But I couldn’t see them directly. The maze of cut out walls, hidden them perfectly and gave me enough privacy to believe, I was alone with Paris.

“What were we supposed to be doing here, again?” I murmured rising up and running my nose along his neck.  Splaying my hands under his shirt and feeling his hot chest.  He let out a hot heavy breath, I could feel him harden underneath me.

I think we both thought, oh to hell with work. Let the other’s pick it up.

“I forget.” He grabbed my ass tightly through the dress. Grinding me onto him. Making me grasp, my mouth dropping open. I could hear little sighs, from people, far away from us.  Seems we were putting quite a nice show, or setting off some very good vibes together.

“Am I distracting you?” I asked, when his hand slid under my dress and he hooked a finger under my underwear.

“Not from what I really want to do.”

Advertisements

Leave a Comment »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

    Arrooo! Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 472 other followers

    Follow A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn on WordPress.com

    Search for posts

    Blog Stats

    • 46,205 hits