A Werewolf Blog in Brooklyn

Caged

July 6, 2010
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 It’s the hottest day in New York in nine years.

 And I’m in heat.

No, I’m not hot because of the heat, well, there’s a little bit of that, but I’m in heat because my werewolf is in heat.  It just happens to coincide with the hottest day in nine years.

 Being a werewolf is tricky, at the best of times.

Being a werewolf in heat, is harder.  

My life is now on hold for how ever many hours, it needs to be until I can get this thing, under control.  You seeing being in “heat” isn’t just about having your sex drive over sexed to the point of exhaustion.  

 Although seriously, that’s as fun as it sounds.

It affects other aspects of your wolf self too. Like for instance, if I get too turned on when getting sexed, I’m likely to shape shift, in the middle of some sexual foreplay and end up “wolfing out” on top of Paris.   Usually before I even know it’s happening and by the time I do understand my shape shift is happening, then it’s over and done. Shape shifting in heat, is violently fast. Which seems to fit the rest of what my body is feeling at present. Violently fast.

Luckily, Paris is built for the hardship of having a crazed, over sexed, werewolf girlfriend out of control for a day or two, I’m loosing track of time here. It’s already been a good twenty four hours and counting.  Longest dose of ‘heat’, yet.  Paris can follow suit though, with shape shifting to his wolf self too.  So it’s not like I can break him, or damage him. Although damn, if the desire isn’t there wanting me to try.

 This being in heat thing is weird.  Always different with me.  Now this.

The urges crawling under my skin and through my foggy brain, make rough sex look tame, and safe, like a Volvo.  My wolf wants to crash the shit out of that Volvo. My wolf is pushing at my skin, constantly.  Making me edgy, restless like I’ve got cabin fever.

Caged.

Nobody can guess how I’ll react to this heat thing, so it’s better for all concerned if I’m taken off the streets and monitored.  So I’m in a cage.  A small part of me understands the logic. But most of me doesn’t care.

 A big, freaking cage. 

My wolf isn’t helped by the sight of it through my human eyes.  We recognize what a cage is, understand it holds us in, holds us back and means I’m trapped in limited space, with no chance of freedom or whatever it is my wolf is seeking out in this mode. I’ve thrown myself against it a few times, I can tell, because I have wicked bruising along my arms. Like army camouflage. Doesn’t matter, it’ll disappear whenever I shape shift again.

 If I shape shift again.

I growl.

Not happy.

Look through the cage bars back at Paris. 

He’s standing on the other side of the bars, his chest is bare and has scratch marks all over it. Some on the side of his beautifully, otherwise smooth face too.  Shit. I don’t remember doing that to him. Hope it didn’t hurt. What am I saying? Of course it wouldn’t have hurt him, much. He’s an Alpha werewolf, he’s got a higher pain threshold than I do. Even in human form. His body acts is like the strongest metal, it can endure almost anything.

And the man can handle little old me.

He’s drinking from a water bottle, Addison is talking to him when he looks over, back at me.

“Soon.”  Is all he says to me.  Addison keeps talking to him.

I start to pace, hair hanging down in my face. Wolf and me are not happy, probably because we keep fighting each other for control of this heat mode.  The human side of my brain tells me I can control this thing, not have it control me.  That I can get it under control if I just work on it.  But the urges pound through me and those little thoughts of figuring out what to do go and I grip the cage bars, trying to rattle them. They don’t move or make any kind of sound.

Fucking cage.

Paris and Addison stop talking and Paris hands the water bottle back to Addison.

“Round two.” 

 Paris unlocks the cage door and steps inside with me.

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Heat

July 6, 2010
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So it turns out, I’m in heat.

That’s why I lost control of myself so easily the other night when I was out dancing. A werewolf in heat can be a crazy, mad beast, if it’s male. They tend to want to rampage, which usually involves a need for destruction, violence, bloodshed.

A female werewolf in heat, is just a pain in the ass, let me tell you.

I’d rather do the whole, destructive, tear everything down routine. I can deal with a need for a healthy outlet, with being taken away somewhere where you are no danger to anybody, not even yourself.

I’ve been in heat, exactly two times before.

Each time, was very different. So I have no idea, how I’m going to be, or what sensations or feelings of need are going to come over my werewolf because, each time, has been unlike the last. I don’t know why it happens or what brings it on. I don’t even know if it affects all werewolves or not.

The first time I was in heat, it lasted a couple of hours and I was just remarkably horny. I would’ve done anything and anyone, who was willing to assist me, male, female, human, werewolf, shape shifter, lycan. You name it, I did not have any pre-requisites other than, they had to have to want to have sex with me. I felt like everything was turning me on too. Everywhere I looked, advertising, television shows, people on the street, the littlest gestures people would do normally, I was seeing in a whole new light and it was erotic torture for me. So I locked myself away in my room, for myself as much as everyone else. That and sitting very still, trying to meditate for a long time, seemed to do the trick.

I had no warning, it was going to come over me. I mean, one minute I was good and as normal as can be for me, the next, I was a drooling, panting, needy bitch in heat.

It only occurred to me that’s what it was, when somebody pointed it out to me. Then I tried to fight it, which of course, is dumb. Being in heat, is like, someone else took control of your body and all it’s hormones. It’s like a form of insanity, is the best way I can think to describe it.

You might think, being a horny wolf on the make sounds very ordinary or indeed, sexy. But it’s the oddest sensation and it always makes me at some point, feel how wrong it is. That is to say, I suddenly become highly aware of it and how little control or say I get in this thing that comes over both me and my wolf and affects us both, equally. My mind can recognize something out of the ordinary is going on, within me, but I can’t literally do anything about it.

The second time, I was in heat, I was going through a weird thing on top of that. A bit like having a withdrawal and dosing of pheromones in my system, all at once. After recovering from a bad experience. Such shitty, inconvient timing, let me tell you. Just made things more complicated and hard to handle.

And then, the other night, while dancing with Paris.

No warning signs, and suddenly I’m the verge of shape shifting in a public place, with plenty of human fodder around for my wolf to do, whatever she feels like with. Which I can’t decide what that is. Either have sex or rip them to shreds. Possibly both.

Paris bundled me up and took me away from there. He knew something was up, because losing control, is a fucking, rookie, newbie, wolf move. Because I’ve been brought up and trained in how to balance the wolf and me.

Because he’s seen it before.

Now I just have to get through this thing.


Sexual Beast

July 5, 2010
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Hot days mean hot nights in Brooklyn.

I can think of a few enjoyable ways to live in the heat and get by. I don’t mind the heat, especially when I’m not so much thinking about it, as I am just glistening with sweat in it. Means ice cubes will melt at the touch of skin contact. Heat means outdoors, outdoors means, open space and a sense of freedom. Freedom to a werewolf is the ultimate pleasure, really.

Heat means, body temperature’s rise. Means libido’s do too. At least, that’s what I reckon.

So having a rooftop to chill out on, is amazing, especially at night, when it’s lit up by fairy lights, and music is playing, dancing across the wind and cocktails are the only liquid that make you think you’re anywhere but in your home town.

Salsa dancing with Paris in a corner of the rooftop, my leg between his, my hips rubbing up against his, our clothes, getting sticker with heat and sweat than when we arrived. Flimsy cotton material fluttering against movement, and proving a very minimal form of modest protection from full blown skin contact.

Tasteful teasing. Doing as much as you can in public with your clothes on with your pack mate. Dry humping, because you can, you want to and nobody will notice it anymore than anyone else, bumping and grinding their hips about the place. Salsa is sexy. Salsa in the heat is sexier.

Hands on my ass and we’re hip to hip, groin to groin, chest to chest when the growling and kissing starts. Which means, we could be in danger of losing our clothes, sooner rather than later. He’s been a good boy all day, working. And all night, he’s mine. I’m engulfing us in the heat of the night. And our bodies are aflame because of one another. Because of the intimacy of our connection. His lips by my ear and he growls, a low, husky sound, for only me to hear. It’s more like a low whine of want, without saying anything.

One hand slips under the edge of my dress and he grips my bottom tightly. He starts biting into the edge of my jaw and then running his tongue over it, before repeating the action again.

Hot, hard and willing my werewolf is. Can’t say I’m not either. So I take his lips with mine, and burn us together softly, in a kiss that is igniting sparks inside me. Making me want to touch myself, and rub myself up against him.

Some wolves, consider this, a way of marking their mate, when they’re out. Leaving their scent all over them, you can do it, just from a lot of bodily contact, through clothing. The scent seeps in, stays on clothing longer, than it does on skin. Probably something to do with porous fibres or some such.
Smelling scent like this, lets any werewolf know, that you are very much, taken. It’s kind of like, you can smell the before the sex part, the scent that says, sexed up and taken. It’s not detectable to a human, but to a werewolf it sends out a clear message.

The kiss deepens and I feel his fingers dig harder into the muscle of my backside, his nails sharpening, slowly and ever so slightly. One of us is going to give in to this heatwave.

Nobody will see the partial shape shift, because we’re alone in our little corner of hot-ville, dancing in a dimly lit area, his hand on the side away from public viewing. Paris drags his claws around my backside, to my hip, light enough to feel them rake along skin, as he grinds his crotch into me. Letting me know exactly, what he wants to do to me.

My turn to whine deeply in the back of my throat and let out the tiniest gasp of air, as our lips part briefly, because he’s got me not only moving against him, with him, but I’m starting to squirm and now he’s holding on. Making me feel like I’m burning in his embrace, as those claws rise, higher up my leg, to my hip.

“We need to call it a night.” I sigh as he starts kissing my throat, and I move my head to angle it for better access for him.

“Do, we?” Paris murmurs back at me. “You’re the one who wanted to go out dancing.”

A sound, not unlike a strangled groan rises in my throat. It’s the start of a howl, creeping up inside of me. I never felt it coming. Normally there’s a rumbling sensation within, kind of like a 2 second delay warning, of the howl to come within.

A howl just means, I’m extremely turned on. So much so I might shape shift. I’m kind of loosing control between the two extremes and really, it was all my own doing. I knew perfectly well that we’d end up this way. Knew Paris would turn me on, use his body against mine. Knew I wanted him too.

“I’m kind of panting here.” I blurt out quickly, not trusting my voice, it’s getting shaky. Vocal cords are ready to start shape shifting. If I speak again, I’ll probably sound quite gruff. Sound, quite animal like, but Paris will be able to understand me. It’s an innate ability you get with your werewolf senses. Being able to make out werewolf speech, when the voice changes.

“You can’t hold out?” He asks softly serious.

The claws, shape shift, I feel the slightest shimmer against my skin and the difference as they become fingers again. Fingers that descend forward, over the rise of my hip, towards our union of very hot body parts.I shake my head from side to side and his fingers stop they’re light descent and he pulls the side of my dress back down, adjusting my clothing for me. Covering me back up.

I can’t even trust my voice at this point to come out as a human sounding one.

I thought I had good control over my wolf.

Seems I forgot she’s a sexual beast in heat too.


At Play

October 8, 2009
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We were playing a few nights ago. It was more than fun.

It was…involved.

I decided to meet Conall at Burning Ground rather than have him come and get me as usual.

I walked in and I swear I heard him hold his breath for a second.
Which is good, really, because I was going to some effort for an effect as it were. His eyes connected with mine and I smirked before looking away. Like I hadn’t really seen him, like I was actually looking around, for someone else.

I kept walking as I pretended he wasn’t there, staring at me. His eyes running over the shiny, red, patent heels I was wearing, up along my black fishnet stockings. Blocking most of me with my highly fashionable overcoat.

I almost laughed as I walked past him, where he was standing around with other people. Most of whom I didn’t recognize. As I slowly untied the belt around my waist and slid my coat off my shoulders. I walked to the coat room and deposited the coat. Ensuring my heels tapped loudly along the floor, echoing my confidence as I kept ignoring Conall. Giving him, now, only a view from behind.

I was wearing a short enough, black dress to taunt him.

I went to the bar, it was at least three deep. A busy night, the crowd were eager and full, the music was loud and pumping. You could feel the bass reverb through the floor up into you. Connecting you instantly with a beat, as if your body need further rhythm pounding it’s senses. Making you even more restless than you already are for the nights festivities to truly begin.

I was waiting in the crowd, amongst them, surrounded by warm bodies, smelling a mixture of musk, cinnamon, spice and all manner of delicious flavors when I was pushed into, bumped from behind. I turned my head to look over my shoulder around the same time he pressed his hardening groin into my bottom.

Conall murmured at me.
“Just keep looking ahead, like your actually waiting to be served a drink.”
So I turned my attention back to the bar.

I felt the press of his fly seam of his jeans against me. His chest pressed up against my back. Hard, heated up. His right hand slipped around the top of my thigh, as people around us continued to stand in a crush, waiting to be served. Trying to capture the bar attendant’s attention.

Conall’s hand snaked around under the front of my dress.
I bite back a strangled gasp.

He was looking over my shoulder at the bar. As if he was any other patron just wanting a drink. “You’re going to be lucky if I don’t do you here and now.”

“You call that lucky?” I muttered through smiling teeth, watching the movement of the bar attendant and trying to open up my leg stance more in the space I was in, unsuccessfully.

He would have replied, only then the bar attendant finished serving the people in front of us and looked up at us both, expectantly. Like he, was on a schedule.

Conall pressed harder into me and leaned right over my shoulder at the same time, holding up his free left hand with money in it and yelling a drinks order at the bar attendant who nodded his head at us, to indicate he understood.

“I’m gonna be generous. I know how much you love the club scene during lunar week. You just got here, but you had me waiting for an hour. Then you walk in like you own the joint and everyone should bow down to you…Your making me harder every second. I’ve ordered you a drink. You get to have your drink, and then I get to have you.”

I would have responded but it was difficult to think beyond his touch even amongst the crowd we were engulfed in. Breathing normally and trying not to looked flush, was hard enough as it were.

He pulled back when the drinks were placed in front of us. The sudden loss of his body heat and connection was instantly maddening. I could’ve hit him. Probably should have. Prick tease.

I pushed my way back through the throng of the crowd to him, as he turned, smiled and handed me my drink. Conall raised his beer bottle to my champagne glass. His eyes ran over my outfit again and he said “With the heels and fishnets on.”


The way he moves me

September 18, 2009
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You know there is something to be said for the way a man’s body moves.

I got hypnotized watching Conall’s. He was on an exercise bike, not that he needs the exercise. Another health benefit” of being a werewolf, you do tend to have a nice burn up rate on the metabolism scale. His chest was glistening with a light sheen over it and his arms, defined by silhouette. I couldn’t make out on his face, wether he was hot, concentrating, lost in thought or angry.

Yes the man does angry nude, semi nude sometimes. I think he does it to try and disarm me or diffuse a situation. It works. Why wouldn’t it? I’m easily distracted by his bod.

I think he uses physical exercise as a way to let out aggression in a “healthy” way. He also has a punching bag set up in his garage which he can be found kickboxing on at times. He might have been stressed, or just working off extra energy. But hey, he could’ve come to me for that, also. Which again makes me wonder why the exercise bike.

I didn’t know if he knew I was there. Conall was so quiet and focused on working out. I was wondering what was going through that brain of his, to cause such introspection, by the look on his face.

The room was dark and I was sitting, very quietly and still, in a armchair in the dark just watching him work out.

The only light coming in was from the night outside and it was all half shadows and nocturnal moon light. His grey sweat pants were hung low, exposing his hip bones.

I watched the movement of his legs peddle the bike’s wheels, I got engrossed in the definition of the lines around his hip bones. Add the smooth sheen of a light sweat on that and I was biting my lip from moaning. It was highly erotic and he wasn’t doing a thing to me, physically. He was just working out and I was just checking him out.

Playing voyeur on my own boyfriend.

Those hips and the way they kept moving, had me in a trance and at one point, I was holding my breath, watching his lower abdominal muscles move and tweak against his skin as he rode. Small darkened stains of sweat soaked through the waist band of his sweat pants and my eyes slowly, took their leisurely time, travelling up over the rest of his muscled body.

Conall’s got a great medium build. It’s not too muscularly and big and it’s not whimpy and undefined.

I felt my face flush and get hot and just as my eyes made their way to his face he looked over in my direction, at the darkened corner in the unlit room. I was biting my lip between my teeth, staring hungrily at him. I hadn’t made a sound.
And I hadn’t moved and I was beginning to want to.

He smiled back at me, slid off the bike and strode over, like he knew exactly what I wanted.

His body was taunt, and confident, he gazed upon me with heat in his eyes.
“How long have you been there?”

Clearly something had been on his mind, his focus on that, rather than his surrounds if he hadn’t heard, scented or seen me until now. Werewolves have excellent night vision, heightened hearing and we can scent almost anything. But of course if you’re not using them, focused on using them…then…I guess uh, he wouldn’t have seen me.

I tilted my head to the side and shrugged my shoulders loosely. Suddenly the heat in my face was burning and my voice was gone, dried up in my throat.

He nodded his head in return, like he understood my lack of communication. It was more likely he could see the affect he was having on me, just by the way I was acting, holding my body so tight and still. Like it needed to be let loose, to unwind with him, on him.

“Do you like what you see?”
Conall’s voice was low and full of warmth.

Talk about feeling like having a run in for the first time with his male hotness! I gulped down a vat of syliva that felt hard in my throat. I just nodded my head again. He let out a low laugh and put his hands on those hips and I think I may have gasped a little.

How pathetic.

“Would you like to see more?” He asked me, hooking his thumbs under the waist band of his sweat pants.

It was a taunt, like he knew exactly what he was doing and what was turning me on about him. The pants stayed exactly where they were, hiding half of him from me. Allowing me to watch the rest.

Tease.

I nodded my head again silently.
He smirked down at me and said “Then follow me.” He walked out of the room, leading the way, with me following.


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