art by crypsis
Sex was still unexplored territory to him, but there was talk, as there always was talk, and instinct as well. The primal desires—food, shelter, sex—were things he understood. How one went about doing such a thing was yet a mystery, but he felt good and supposed that was all that mattered.
One hand touched his chest, small, soft. He liked the sensation. He thrust forward, body betraying him, as her hand touched the firm length of his cock. This touch was different; it was firm, unsure, but sensual none the less. A rumbling growl escaped him now, demanding, wanting. One of his own hands dropped to mirror her own. While he knew what a woman was like down there (through talk, at least) the warm dampness of her fur startled him. His fingers pressed against her, rubbed at the slit between her legs, and then tentatively pushed knuckle deep into that damp heat.
His own hips were now pressing against her, urging, rubbing his swollen cock against her hand. The kissing became more urgent, and he pressed against her hard enough to bruise.
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