Thul Pa Ch. 05

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A quiet bed & breakfast becomes a furry spawning ground.
4.6k words
4.6
15.4k
7

Part 5 of the 6 part series

Updated 10/30/2022
Created 10/17/2008
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Smother
Smother
66 Followers

Ch. 05

Fall Colours

Business had been fairly steady over the summer but the fall bookings were a little slower than usual. His bed and breakfast had become a favourite spot for the people who couldn't "rough it" overnight at the local national park. Couples were still dropping in occasionally to take in the leaves as they changed colour but the mad rush was definitely over.

It was Wednesday and he had just finished cleaning the biggest of the three suites when the doorbell rang. When he got downstairs he could see the mail carrier peering through the beveled glass panel beside the door.

"Good morning," he said as he swung the door on its hinges. "You usually just drop and run. To what do I owe the pleasure of a face-to-face today?

"You've got a package to sign for," he said already holding his clipboard out. "All the way from Tibet, too."

"Tibet? Who do I know in Tibet?" He was flipping the package over as if trying to jostle the name from it. He held it in his hands and looked at the return address. Recognizing the name of the sender he said offhandedly: "So that's where you got to." He signed the paperwork and handed the clipboard back.

"Thanks much," the postie said and was halfway down the path before he heard "Thanks" from the man still standing in the doorway.

As he closed the door he began to finger at the pieces of tape holding the paper around the box, looking for a loose section to start unwrapping. The paper came off in inch-long segments until he managed to uncover more of the tightly bound parcel. It weighed more than it seemed it should. 'Good things come in small packages,' he thought. The box was non-descript - cheaply made or well-used, he wasn't sure which. With all of the paper finally off, he pinched the bottom half of the carton and rocked the top from side to side until it finally opened.

A note fluttered to the floor. He picked it up and unfolded it.

"Well, I guess you have managed to figure out where I have been hiding for the past few months. I have found a place to think and have discovered something really wonderful. If anyone asks just tell them that I have brought fulfillment into my life and am not ready to leave it.

"I have sent you a gift. It's a Tibetan version of a dream catcher (don't hang it from your rearview mirror!). You are meant to keep it by your bedside and in time you will be more at ease, as if all your troubles have been swept away."

He flipped the paper over looking for more but that was all that his friend had written. He skimmed over the note again and put it down on the kitchen table. As he sat down he reached into the box and picked up the trinket inside. It was a burnished silver medallion with what looked to be a swirling mass of hair in the centre, and a few stones around the edges. He rubbed his thumb over the darkened metal and was surprised by the softness he could feel underneath the amulet with his index finger.

He turned the disk over and saw a tight circle of shorn black hairs. He touched them again, first with his fingertips and then he started massaging them with his thumbs. The ebony fur was extremely silky for its length, and as he rubbed it his thumb dipped into it deeper than he thought possible. The sensation was mesmerizing – after a bit of resistance it felt like the hide was sucking on him, a furry mouth downing his knuckles, tasting his flesh.

He dragged his mind back to reality. "Better put you where you belong," he said getting up from the table. "With my memory who knows where I would leave you." He climbed the stairs to his bedroom and walked over to his night table and, clearing a few loose items from the tabletop, he placed the talisman on it.

He continued his cleaning but as he polished, tidied, and folded his way through the other two rooms he became more and more distracted. He began to notice the soft accents in the room he was working. The Icelandic sheepskin throw with its long, thick fleece draped across the chair; the silver fox fur muff hanging from the antique dressmaker's mannequin; the marabou outfit on the porcelain doll on the bureau all made him feel flushed and aroused.

As he finished putting his signature boxed truffles on the pillows in the third suite he straightened out the duvet, brushing his hand lightly across the mohair blanket that decorated the bottom of the bed. He had always loved how mohair felt; its fluffy, coarse texture was very sensual. He stroked the blanket again, watching the fuzz come up between his fingers. He gathered up handfuls of the spread in his hands, kneading it, burying his knuckles in the folds he created.

The thick wool crackled when he pulled the blanket from the bed. Lifting his t-shirt with his fluff-shrouded hand he started to rub his belly, making slow circles at first, and then pushing it up to his chest. He clutched a heap of fuzz with his other hand and pressed it into his crotch, stroking himself roughly, hoping the plush mohair would wipe away his jeans and expose his cock to the deliciously scratchy blanket.

He dropped the mohair throw and hastily tossed his clothes into a pile by the door, and stealing the blanket from its place around his feet he walked over to the sheepskin-covered rocking chair and flopped into it. The deep pile scooped around his naked body, and the pelt wilted over his shoulders like two massive fluffy hands, their furry fingers reaching down his chest and surrounding his neck and resting behind his ears.

He swayed his body from side to side in the enormous swell of the Icelandic sheep hide, nestling himself into its awaiting hairs. The blanket was cool as he wrapped it around his penis. His hands were buried deep in the creases of the knitted fibres, and as he jerked himself wildly he fondled the mohair, weaving his fingers through the wool, exploring its unending depth and softness.

He looked down at his crotch, at the fuzzy blanket that shrouded his cock. His hands moved faster, blurring the mohair into an immense bundle bouncing in his lap and shifting between his thighs. He could feel his pre-cum beginning to soak the hairy knitted yarn and thought about stopping, keeping his favourite blanket unspoiled but all he wanted to do was cum into its depth, to shoot into the gathering of fluffy blackness that prickled about his sex. His left hand rubbed the throw against his belly while his right was gripping and tugging at the bushy pile.

He looked down again in time to see the head of his cock push its way through the folds in the blanket. His skin was red and taut and glistened with the wetness of his arousal. Resting the blanket across his thigh, he slid his hand around his penis and quickly jerked himself as the first wave of orgasm filled him.

He began to picture soft, swirling masses of unending blackness flowing towards him, crashing about his legs. Taking form, the pitch-black heap that filled his mind appeared as a beast made entirely of fur: no eyes, legs, or discernable shape could be seen save for a flap that began to open wide and took on the outline of a huge mouth with coils of thickening locks to mark the lips, and a silky, sumptuous tongue that poured forth from the opening that rose up in front of him. He imagined himself being licked off the floor by the fluffy tresses that rolled out from the wall of curls that towered over him.

His yanking milked more pre-cum to the tip of his sulcus and soon his hand was skimming easily up and down his shaft, and as he leaned into the sheepskin, feeling it scoop around his head like a fur-lined hoodie, he could hear the sticky slapping of his fingers as they bobbed over his foreskin. But it was when the lush mohair began to slide from his lap, swishing across his balls and his thighs that he came. His ejaculate streamed up his abdomen, landing in and around his bellybutton. Squeezing, pulling his cock he held his breath and thrust his hips upwards, again, again, fucking his fingers, his knuckles slippery with his cum.

As he lay in bed that night he could not stop thinking about how amazing his orgasm had been. The intensity of the pleasure he had given himself, the images his mind had created while he masturbated had been base but vague and only half-visualized. His thoughts clouded over and dreams quickly overtook him, dreams of drowning, pushing through a sea of octopi, of being dragged down into a darkness that consumed his soul.

-

When he woke the next morning he was on his side clutching the extra pillow. He stretched and rolled over on his back and noticed a coolness as his penis slid across his pelvis. Reaching down he could feel a little wetness on his belly and on the tip of his cock. He patted the mattress to his left. 'No cum,' he thought, but the leftover ejaculate that seeped into his pubic hairs and the ache in his groin made him think that he must have had a wet dream. Or a few of them.

He looked at the clock.

"Crap!"

He had really overslept. A couple was arriving at 3:00 p.m. and he still had so much to do. After a hasty shave and shower he got dressed and dashed into town to take care of his last-minute errands. When he finally got back to the b&b his guests were already waiting on the porch.

"Sorry I'm late," he called from the car. "Everybody in town was really chatty today."

"No worries," the man said. He nodded at his female companion. "We got here a bit early and just wandered around the property to pass the time."

They were both attractive and looked like they wouldn't actually mind "roughing it" if the weather hadn't gotten too cool for tents and breakfast by the fire. After introductions all around he grabbed their luggage and ushered them inside and upstairs to their room.

'She smells really good,' he thought as he followed them up the curved staircase. Her ass, her perky little ass filled her sweatpants perfectly. He noticed her looking back at him and pretended to be watching her feet and trying to keep a good distance so they didn't trip each other up.

"Second door on your left," he called up the stairs. "It's the black and white room."

Dropping their luggage at the foot of the bed he let them know that breakfast would be served between 6:30 a.m. and 8:00 a.m.. Closing the door as he left he hoped he had successfully cleaned the mohair blanket last night.

-

He woke up with a start. The wind was pushing against the side of the house, scooping up the leaves from the front lawn and dropping them outside his window and in the backyard. He waited.

'There it is again.' He listened for the noise again over the ticking of his alarm clock. There was a faint thud. Then another. And then a moan.

They were having sex in the rocking chair, bumping into the wall with every other thrust. Just what he needed, a horny couple right above him. He reached over to grab his alarm clock to check the time. Something fell to the floor.

Turning on his table lamp he leaned over and saw that he had knocked his amulet off the small nightstand. Without looking he reached down from under the warm covers to pick it up. He felt around until he found it and when he grasped it his thumb dipped into the black fur as it had when he first examined the medallion at his kitchen table. The fleece was warm and had taken in his thumb up to his knuckle. He could hear more moaning from his guests through the floorboards of the old house.

He was on his back holding the amulet with both hands, both thumbs massaging the sheared wool. Plunging his thumbs into the fur he thought about the mohair blanket, the wool rug, the fluffy folds caressing his penis. He drew the pendant under the covers and rubbed it up and down his foreskin. The fine hairs felt so soft and curved around the arc of his flesh like fuzzy lips, like a pygora-covered mouth, and gave the sensation of a tongue performing beautifully on his cock.

He raised his penis with his left hand and brought the furry disk up the length of his shaft and swept the black pelt over his dripping sulcus, all the while the moaning coming from the second floor increased. He jerked himself off faster and faster, squeezing the base of his penis, tugging it as the fur swirled in his right hand. Suddenly, as he rubbed the delightful black hair harder and harder against himself, the tip of his cock pushed into the fur. He gasped but kept moving the amulet up and down the tip of his aching sex.

The fur felt like it was teasing him, a partially opened fluffy mouth that would only take an inch or two of him inside before resisting more of his shaft. He had moved his hand up his penis and could now feel the pelt against his fingers as he quickly bobbed the fur up and down. 'Surround me,' he thought. 'Feast on me.' His orgasm was close and for a split second he thought about slowing down to draw out his pleasure but he instead jerked faster. "Swallow me," he whispered into the darkness of his bedroom.

His left hand was swiftly wrapped in fur and the unexpected sensation made him cum immediately. With every spurt the black fleece spilled out faster and thicker, trickling across his balls and up his belly. The mass of fuzz seeping out of the medallion had soon covered his body from his chest to his knees and only made him fuck himself more vigorously.

The moaning of his guests had turned to wails of delight and as he rolled onto his stomach he pretended to join in their lovemaking, convulsing as the black tresses continued to gulp down his cum, churning around his torso like a raging sea of inky, plush fur, a straightjacket of ever-thickening fleece.

His erection remained even after his cock had been drained, an ache spreading across his balls like they were going to split open. As the groans and shuffling from the second floor subsided, fatigue took over. He tried to move his arms, to free himself from the hefty curls, but each movement only brought another wave of exhaustion. Closing his eyes, succumbing to the weakness that spread through his body he felt the frizzy, glossy black hairs rouse and move further up his back and down his legs like a small avalanche of fur was washing over him and burying his immobilized, quivering shell.

-

When he woke that morning he truly felt like his troubles had been stripped from his heart, but "dream catcher" was not the term he would use for the medallion his friend sent him. The wool-filled trinket was back on his night stand but he couldn't remember putting it there. All he remembered from last night was being surrounded by the softest fur he had ever felt; fur that relished in his pleasure as much as he did. The sensation had completely overwhelmed him and had given him no time and no strength to panic or to try to break free of the roiling ebony curls that had seized his body at the height of his ecstasy. Looking at the amulet he wished he could crawl inside of it and lose himself in the hungry blackness.

The sexual fog of last night cleared a little and this morning he couldn't help but feel some trepidation about having a ... 'A what?,' he thought. 'A living furry entity inside that small silver disk?' Worried or not his penis stiffened at the memory of being wrapped up, jerking off inside his curly cocoon, his cum shooting into the dense, yielding fuzz in long streams.

Breakfast was waiting for his guests when they strolled into the dining room. They exchanged a few pleasantries and they all pretended that last night has passed without any excitement. He waited in the kitchen for them to finish their coffee and head back up to their room, all the while imagining them bouncing in the thick, white pelt on the sheepskin rug.

About an hour later he heard the two of them come down the stairs. They paused in the hallway and spoke in hushed tones, mostly out of shyness in their new surroundings than for any other reason. There was a gentle knock on his office door.

"Come in," he said.

He looked up from his desk as she popped her head through the door.

"We're going to the park and were wondering what time it closes."

She stepped inside as he turned in his chair to face her. His eyes immediately focused on the gorgeous mohair scarf that swirled around her neck. The plump, deep pile squeezed out from the front of her jacket, filling any gap the cool fall air might try to sneak through.

"Six-thirty, but if you tell the rangers you are staying here they might let you hang around until closer to seven-thirty."

"Well," she said with a coquettish toss of her head, "it's good to have friends in high places." And with that she gave him a little wave and headed out the back door to the parking lot.

As he turned his chair back to face his desk he stared out the front window and thought about the fluffy tassels that poked out from the bottom of her bomber jacket and flopped about lazily in her crotch as she had turned to go. For the rest of the day all he could think about was the black frizzy wool dancing across the zipper of her jeans, knocking against her thighs.

-

They arrived back at the bed and breakfast at about 9:00 p.m. They came in through the back door, giggling as quietly as they could. They stopped every few feet and he could hear them kissing as they maneuvered themselves down the hallway. When they finally made it into their room their giggling and shushing became louder.

"He's going to hear us," she whispered as she dropped her clothes to the floor.

He was already undressed. "Aw, c'mon. These old houses are soundproof. Besides," he said, "we're on vacation."

The lone lamp on her end table threw warm light around the room as he reached over and grabbed her arm, spinning her around to face away from him. His erect penis rested easily in the crack of her ass and he slid his fingers underneath her bra, lifting it over her head. When he brought down his arms he crossed one over her breasts and the other across her waist, letting his hand slide into her pubic hairs.

"I want to eat you," he whispered into her neck. "I want to eat you until you can't walk, until you're legs turn to jelly." His fingers massaged the folds of her sex and he gently bit into her collarbone, sucking on her as he kneaded her labia.

They guided each other to the king-sized bed and pulled back the sheets. He lay down first across the mattress, and as she crawled over top he fingered her, plunging his thumb deep inside of her sex.

She gasped loudly, and even though she was still wondering if their host could hear their love play she couldn't help but rock her pelvis back and forth over his hand, moaning as she did so. His free hand reached up and pawed at her back, scratching her as he dragged his nails down her spine. She clenched her ass and squeezed on his thumb as she lowered herself down on top of him.

Before he could pull his thumb out of her she grabbed his cock with her right hand, pulled it towards her and slowly pushed it past her lips, across her tongue, sucking him in until she felt her mouth nestle around its base.

-

Their gentle swaying and shifting on the bed sent the odd creak through the floorboards and after a while he shifted his eyes from his book to the ceiling in his room. 'It's my own damn fault,' he thought. 'I should have put them in the room at the back of the house.'

He closed his book, set it on the nightstand, and threw back the covers and got out of bed. When he has halfway to the en suite door he stopped. Their moaning had increased and someone had begun to slap the wall. Once, twice, ... . Their lovemaking seemed to settle down after about a minute and the floor started to creak at a steady pace.

-

His fingers gently held her open as he slid his tongue over her crease, her clit. She pushed her pelvis onto his chin and squeezed her thighs around his head. He really was quite good at oral sex. He always knew exactly how long to keep her waiting, how much pressure to use, how fast to go. She was quite wet and it wasn't long before she began dribbling across his chin. He could hear her breathing change as he ran his tongue over her sex. She opened her mouth to gasp when he started flicking his tongue across her, the hardened point feeling like a warm, spongy finger in her crotch.

Smother
Smother
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