The Adult Story Hub

Melanie
All I did was practice. They told us to practice, so I did. I just didn't see what was so wrong with using a real shaft instead of that nasty mock one. I couldn't see anything wrong with getting with a breeder and exercising with his shaft. I didn't think you could get seeded out of season. Anyway, that what I was told. They said you can't seed out of season.
Actually, he said he couldn't seed out of season.
I guess I first thought about it at the winter seeding. I was waiting for the ceremony to begin, looking at the participants. They were waiting, legs apart and ready, lying on the seeding beds. I'd been to the seeding ceremonies for as long as I could remember, but this time it was different. I knew that next season I'd be participating. It would be me on the bed waiting, and the rest would be watching me. Already, I was getting nervous about it.
I focused on my friend, Celene. She'd told me all about the preparations she had to do, like the exercising and the grooming.
She looked beautiful. Her pelt was all fluffed and wet, her nipples were full and rosy and her head was tilted back so her long hair cascaded back like a waterfall, pooling onto the bed. Her breasts rose and fell with her breathing, which was quick in anticipation.
She didn't have long to wait. The breeder that was chosen for her came up from behind her. I got a full view of hin. His shoulders were wide, his chest large and finely covered with fur. His thick shaft stuck straight out from his pelt, and his bulb sac was enormous.
He stood right behind her and leaned over her. His shaft hung down just above her, pointing at her face. He put his hands on her shoulders and when she opened her eyes, her mouth dropped open at the sight of him and she flinched visibly. It looked almost as if he was going to drop his shaft into her open mouth, but he just snorted and walked over her, then turned and dropped to his knees between her legs. Then he fell upon her and pushed his hips into her.
She cried aloud at his entry. He started crushing himself into her mound over and over, and she screamed with each invasion. He pounded into her faster and faster, pushing her across the bed, until he started grunting with each violent thrust and then his back arched and he fell on top of her.
Celene was still screaming, and she continued screaming even after he pulled himself up and out of her and walked away. It was probably the most savage seeding I'd ever seen. The seed that seeped out from Celene's swollen mound was streaked with red. I guessed she hadn't practiced enough and wasn't as wet as she should have been.
I watched the other couplings. Some of the breeders were pumping hard and fast, others were pushing with long, slow strokes, but few of the participants seemed to be experiencing much pain. There was a lot of motion and groaning and crying, but most of it seemed to be just from the excitement. I swore there and then that I'd do whatever I had to do to be prepared for the seeding.
I looked at the different techniques of all breeders that day. Some did their seeding with gentleness and tenderness; others were fierce and violent. I knew that our mates were determined just before the seeding. There was no way to know what mine would be like. I had to plan for the most violent one. I had to plan for Celene's breeder.
So when the instructions began, I listened hard and asked questions when I didn't understand something. I really didn't understand why we couldn't prepare by practicing with the breeders, and I asked why we couldn't. They'd told us that the breeders couldn't seed us except during the ceremony, so why not use them for practice. All they did was laugh at me. I figured it was because they hadn't figured that out for themselves.
When I saw the mock shafts they gave us, I was really disappointed. They didn't look anything like the real shafts I'd seen in the ceremony. First of all, they were a lot smaller, and besides, they were really cold. I practiced with it, but it just didn't feel right to me. I just wasn't lubricating like I should have. Worse, I couldn't break my blockage. I just wasn 't wet enough, so every time I tried to push it into me, it hurt so bad I'd have to stop.
It was about a month before the ceremony, two weeks before my last evacuatlion, that I started to panic. I wasn't getting anywhere and I had to do something, and the only thing I could think of was to get a breeder to help me.
I went to the savage one; the one that took Celene. I thought if I could get him to help me, I'd be ready for anything. When I went to him, I was surprised to see that the shaft that was so huge during the ceremony dangled small and limp from his pelt. For a moment I dodn't know what to do, but I had to do something, so I just started talking. I told him that I'd watched him serve during the winter seeding and told him that I was ready and preparing myself for the spring. He looked at me strangely, and said he could see that I was ready and that I looked fine just the way I was. I said I was having trouble lubricating and I asked him if he could do anything to help.
His eyes widened. He didn't say anything, but I think he was confused by my question. With apprehension in his eyes, he told me he couldn't seed anyone out of season. I told him I didn't want him to seed me now, that I knew he couldn't seed me now. I just needed help with my lubrication and could he help me.
He said it was impossible, that there was nothing he could do except at the ceremony. I said that maybe he knew what I was doing wrong with the mock shaft and he could just help me do it right. I could see he was getting anxious. He angrily repeated that he couldn't seed out of season and then he turned away.
I shouted back that I knew he couldn't seed me out of season, that I didn't want him to seed me out of season, that I only wanted him to help me with my lubrication because I needed to be able to lubricate because I didn't want to get torn up the way he tore up Celene and I was scared, real scared, and then I just sat and started crying because I really was scared.
He just stood there and looked at me. Then his eyes closed because he remembered the winter ceremony. He quietly said that he was really sorry he'd performed so brutally. It was the first time he'd served in the seeding. He was very excited and his passion overcame him. I said I couldn't imagine how strong the desire to seed can become; he hadn't realized how powerful his drive was until it overwhelmed him. He was sad that Celene was hurt, but afterward he was told that she hadn't prepared herself properly and he couldn't have helped that.
I asked him if he couldn't help me.
He closed his eyes again and exhaled. When he opened them again I thought I saw a flash of fear in them.He asked me what I wanted him to do.
I said I wasn't sure. I only knew that I was supposed to practice with the mock shaft, and it was supposed to help me make myself wet. I suggested that if he could make his shaft hard, he could maybe rub it against my mound. I looked down at it and saw that it actually was getting firmer.
He got that strange look in his eyes again and started to laugh. He said that might be dangerous. I asked him why. He just sighed.
I suggested instead that he should use his hand, and I laid down and spread my legs and lift my knees. He shook his head and sat down beside me, reached down betewwn my legs and put his hand on my mound. He prodded me with his middle finger and I was very dry, so he put the finger in his mouth to wet it, and then he prodded some more. He worked his finger up and down my furrow, trying to tickle me into lubricating, I guess. Then he touched that spot that Rosemary told us about later, and I jumped and pushed him away.
It took us both by surprise. He told me I had to relax and I thought, if I could relax, I wouldn't be lying here with his hand between my legs. I told him I'd try and took a deep breath. My breasts rose, and my left nipple brushed against his forearm. I shivered, my eyelids fluttered, the nipple got hard, and I felt myself suddenly getting wet! I moved my back to rub the nipple against his arm and I got wetter. I pulled his hand up and pressed it against my breast and the nipple pulsed into his palm. He began to kneed and squeeze it. I started getting really wet and my hips started to make these involuntary little jerks.
That's when I felt something against my hip. I looked down and saw his shaft pushing against me, about half as large as it was the day of the seeding, rising up from his pelt and getting larger.
His hands were becoming more active on my body, and his breathing became short and heavy. My breathing was coming in shorter gasps as well. I stared at his shaft, growing and firming to the size I remembered it, bobbing up and down with his breathing. I wanted to touch it, just to know what if felt like. It didn't look as hard and cold as the mock shaft. I dropped my hand onto his chest and and slid it slowly down to his stomach. I know he felt and saw what I was doing, because his breathing got even quicker. He didn't stop me.
When my hand reached the hollow in his pelt where the shaft began to jut out, he grunted. I looked up, and his eyes were shut and his mouth was open, breathing heavily. Still, he didn't seem to want me to stop. I ran my fingertips along the top of the shank and found it was really a lot softer than the hard mock shaft they gave us. The purple head was really soft and cushiony. I curled my fingers around the thickness of it, feeling its underside, and when I touched just under the head, it suddenly jumped and he groaned loudly.
He bent himself closer to me and caressed my breast and mound with an increasing urgency, causing a glowing warmth to rise in me. I began to moan as the fire spread through me; my back writhed and and my hips jerked up and down, urging him to press harder and deeper. I wrapped my hand tightly around his shaft and intently stroked under the head with my fingertips.
Suddenly fell onto his back and pulled me onto him, crushing my breasts to his chest. I ground my nipples into him. His arms slid down my back and his fingers dug into my bottom as he lifted my thrusting hips above his. His head bent down into the hollow of my neck and I felt his clenched teeth as his lips nipped my skin. His knees came up and jammed between mine, spreading my legs apart. I coiled around him. He pulled my hips down and I felt the head of his shaft dip into the folds of my mound. I knew he was about to ram himself into me, but I didn't care. All I knew was that the feeling of his shaft pressing up into my dripping furrow was causing the flames to lick inside me.
He thrust hinself sharply up, but the shaft slipped too low and it slid through the crevice between my buttocks. I pressed my mound tight to his pelt, feeling the bristles rub into my cleft. We both pulled back for the penetrating thrust and then we crashed together. The shaft again missed and slid up between us against my stomach, burying itself tightly into our entwined pelts.
Then it started to throb and thick spurts of warm fluid suddenly started gushing out of it. His entire body spasmed and his back arched up. His hips lifed me as they jerked up and down, thrusting himself against my stomach, squirting the oil up so forcefully that I felt it spatter onto my breasts. His hands clutched my hips and pulled me tightly to him and I was consumed by the fire deep within me as we pounded into each other.
Our thrashing slowed and finally our convulsing hands relaxed. For a while we just lay there exhausted, our hearts pounding and swallowing great gulps of air. I'd collapsed on top of him with my head on his chest and his shaft still pressed between us.
As the heat began to fade and I came back to reality, I began to realize what had happened. I sat up and looked at the slick stickiness that covered my stomach and breasts, then I looked down at the source of the mess. The shaft was shrinking back to its deceptively passive size. His eyes were closed, and he breathing was becoming a snore. I shook his shoulders and started yelling at him. What was this stuff? Was it his seed? Didn't he say he couldn't seed out of season?
He said he didn't know if was seed or if it was potent. Long ago he asked the same questions that all the young ones ask when they have their first discharge. All they're told is that they can't seed out of season and not to try to force discharge. If they ask any more questions, they're beaten. All he knew is that we shouldn't be doing what we were doing. Still, even if it was seed, it couldn't take root unless it was pushed up through my mound canal into my breeding pocket.
I got up and, without speaking a word, left him and went down to the river to rinse off the caking discharge. I was lucky that nobody saw me along the way. I also realized how fortunate I was that I'd not been seeded then and there. I was shaken by the forcefulness, not of him, but of the feelings that had overwhelmed me to the point that I'd have stuffed his shaft into me if fortune hadn't slid it upward instead of in.
Yet the heat that had passed between us had made me wet. I began to lubricate even while remembering the danger. Maybe I was actually lubricating because of the danger.
That night I did my exercises, knees up and legs spread. I pretended he was kneeling there between them. I felt his arms reaching down to my breasts, his hand on my nipples, his fingers squeezing and pinching. I felt his arms reaching down to my pelt, his hands separating the folds of my mound, his fingers stroking the length of the cleft. I pinched my nipples and stoked my furrow and the warmth filled me, flooded me, saturated me. I began to shake and my hips began to jerk the way they did that afternoon. The warmth flowed though me until the spasms took over my being and my pelt was drenched with my fluids. Over and over, I made the spasms come.
I lifted the mock shaft, imagining it to be his, and placed it in the folds and stroked within the cleft. It was cold. I went cold. I tried to pretend it was his shaft and I curled my hand around it and caressed it under its head. It was cold and lifeless. It was no use.
Every time I tried to use the mock shaft to break the membrane, I dried up. I even tried to force it into me without lubrication, but it was so painful that I couldn't even get the shaft between my folds without wincing. That's when the idea hit me. I could let his shaft break the barrier.If I made sure that his shaft and bulbs were drained before we began, he could push his shaft into me and break the membrane without seeding me. He'd said thet he thought the seed wasn't mature out of season, anyway. At the very worst, he'd have to pull the shaft out of me before he discharged.
I had to see him again. In spite of the danger.
I went to him the next day. When he saw me, there was a sudden sparkle in his eyes, but it disappeared as soon as it came. Then there was only anxiety. Before I could say a word he said he couldn't help me anymore because of what happened the last time. It was dangerous, he said. He told me he wanted me to go and never come back.
Even as he told me he I had to leave, his shaft began to rise. I moved closer to him and told him how much he'd helped me so far and how much I'd appreciated it and how there really wasn't that much I was asking him to do. I told him that I only wanted to touch him, and as I said that I pressed myself up against him and reached one hand behind him to stroke his back. At the same time my other hand took his shaft and massaged it under the head.
As I expected, he didn't pull away. His breath froze and his eyes closed and he whispered his lament about not being able to seed me out of season. I whispered back that he'd already told me that and that it was okay and there was no danger. He sighed, and only then did he half-heartedly try to pull away. I took his hand and pressed it to the underside of my breast. He held the weight of it, then moved up to caress my nipple. His other arm went around me to fill his hand with my buttock, lifing me, crushing me to him.
He carried me to his bed and dropped me onto it. He quckly laid across me, pressing his knees between mine, and I suddenly felt his shaft pressing down on my mound, ready for entry.
I cried out for him to wait and I pushed his shoulders up and away from me. I sat us both up on the bed so his rigid shaft was right at my face. I took it with both hands, stroked up and down it's length, paying special attention to his sensitive spot. Then I leaned in, closed my mouth around the shaft, and started sucking at it, trying to pull all the seed out of it.
I guess it made him feel good, because he started to grunt and howl. His breathing quickened, his hips started twitching and his bulbs began to empty. The shaft begin its quivering, and he began to jab his shaft with such force that I had a bit of trouble keeping in my mouth.
The first spurt of seed forced itself into the back of my throat, and I had to swallow quickly to keep from gagging. All I could think of was that if the shaft was in my mound instead of my mouth, the seed would have surely flooded my breeding pocket and spawned. The next few spurts were just as powerful. I didn't realize how much of it there had been and, even swallowing as much as I could, a lot of it dripped out of my mouth and down onto my breasts.
Soon the spurts came less forcefully, so I sucked at the shaft and I squeezed his seed bulbs to be sure to pull out every bit of his seed. He continued to moan and grunt and thrust his shaft into my mouth. He grabbed my head with my hands and almost pushed himself right down into my throat, but I pulled back and contuned to suck until I was sure I couldn't taste his seed anymore.
I then quickly fell back on the bed, spread my legs apart and raised my mound. I reached up and pulled him down on top of me. I grabbed his shaft, positioned the tip between the folds of my cleft and I thrust my hips up to him as he forced himself down.
And the pain ripped through me, and I screamed. I could feel that the head of his shaft was burried in my furrow but he wasn't through the membrane.He knew he'd hurt me and the memory of Celene must have flashed through his head because he froze. I looked up at him and said that it was going to be tougher than I'd thought, but he had to do it.
He reared back for a second attack. He jabbed down again and again I screamed. This time, he'd buried himself deeper, but still most of him was still without. I think he realized then that he wasn't going to gain entry unless he tore into me, or he tried something else.
He began to rotate his hips, nestling the tip into in my crevice as far it it would go without pain. He then bent his head down and took one of my nipples into his mouth and began to gently suck it while he slowly and lightly prodded the head of his shaft in and out of the split. My hips began to jerk up to meet each jab. His suckling became more intense; his jabbing became more forceful and my hips pushed at him more and more ardently.
Soon I was driving myself up to him with a raptured intensity. Nothing else in the universe mattered except to have his shaft deep within me. My entire being flowed with the sensuous rhythm of our hips beating against each other, the head of his shaft battering up againt the barrier that blocked its entry into my mound. As the force of the thrusts increased to a fury the tempo slowed and I cried aloud with each crushing blow, not from pain but from the thrill of his shaft penetrating deeper into me with each burning stab. After each strike, I swung myself away and down as he slid the shaft slowly up through the slick crevice, rubbing deep against my sensitive spot, making me scream with desire. His hips swung up and the shaft pulled away, then he swung down and hammered in, just as I swung up so the shaft spiked across and into the cleft, pressing his sensitive spot deep into me, making him grunt with passion as he bit and sucked at my nipple.
My fingers dug into his buttocks, pulling him into me. His fingers dug into my shoulders to pull me to him. Each thrust pushed the head deeper into me. I felt my furrow engulfing first the head, then a bit of the shaft, then more.Then he gave a mighty thrust and buried himself almost half-way into me.
My eyes widened and my breathing stopped in mid-cry when I realized he'd broken through and had jammed himself into my tight passage. I could feel myself spasming around the massive shaft, tightening and squeezing him. He pulled back and, roaring mightily, stabbed his thickness into the narrow channel even more deeply. Then he thrust again and our pelts intertwined as he forced me open, driving his shaft its full length into me. I was astounded by the immense fullness lodged stiffly inside of me, stretching me to bursting, yet even as gorged as I was, I wanted more. My legs came up and around his to push him even more deeply into me. With my hands on his bottom, I pressed him down. I wanted him to fill me even more. I arched my back and pushed my bottom up off the bed to contain as much of him as I could.
My cavity tensed and constricted over and over, pulling him deeper into me, holding him tighter in me, making me sigh and whimper in bliss as the heat rolled through me. Each squeeze made him moan and push himself harder and deeper into me.
We drove and thrusted and pounded against each other. He drilled himself down into me, digging his shaft deep into the canal within me and I lifted myself up to him, spreading my legs wider and wider apart to swallow as much of him into me as I could. His bulb sac beat hard against my bottom as he hammmered into me and I thrust up to meet each piercing. Together we moaned and cried with the fever of our fusion.
His moans became more passionate and his seed bulbs began to flutter and quiver. Then I I suddenly felt his thrusting shaft jerk inside me. It jerked again, and then it began to throb and spasm as it twitched. It felt exactly as if it was pumping his seed into me, but I knew that couldn't be because I'd sucked all the seed from him before we coupled. Still, he groaned as his hips spasmed down and I felt the shaft pulsate as it jammed itself even further up into me.
My channel was still contracting on the shaft, and as the shaft pulsed and throbbed, my hips began to automatically beat against him and then the fire again seared through me. I pounded myself up to him as he hammered into me, my mound milking his pumping shaft, my voice shrieking in joy. He rammed his shaft into me on last time, held it deep inside, and the shaft pumped and shook as he bellowed his passion. He then collapsed on me, his shaft still quivering and pulsing inside me, and I felt the fluids of our ecstasy draining from me and onto my thighs.As I lay there with my arms and legs around him, the fires in me faded to be replaced by a different kind of burning between my legs. With each flutter of his shaft, I felt the stinging pain of the wound left from the ruptured membrane. I thought about the way his shaft had pulsed inside me and the moistness flowing from between my legs. I wondered if he could have issued seed and impregnated me. I pulled his head up off my shoulder and I asked him. Did he discharge into me? Did he spurt seed with enough force to get it up into my breeding pocket?
He said that it had felt as if he had, but he didn't think he could have released any seed after I'd just emptied his bulbs into my mouth. It was probably just a natural reaction to the friction. Even if he had pumped his seed into me, it couldn't have been much and certainly couldn't have been mature enought to root and spawn.
I still felt umcomfortable. I imagined my pocket flooded and impregnated, his seed sprouting and budding and growing inside me, pushing out and inflating my belly.I wondered how I could explain it, how I could even try to keep it a secret. I began to think that this was a really big mistake.
I looked up at him and thanked him for his help and told him how nice he'd been to me. I said it seemed I was lubricating fine now and he'd done a great job breaking my barrier, so I didn't think I'd need his help anymore and could he please get off me now because I was really sore.
He looked down at me, frowning. I could tell he was disappointed that the work was done and I felt his shaft begin to shrink. He pulled himself up and slowly pulled his shaft out of me. I shivered as it slid up and rubbed against the sensitive knob. Then it was gone and I suddenly felt empty and abandoned.
I missed the fullness of him in me and I ached for it to be back inside of me.
As I got up off the bed, he asked if I was sure I wouldn't be back. I said probably not. He smiled. As I left, he called to me that he hoped my seeding in the spring went well.