Trip 10.

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 Coming brought on the bigger waves that build to the peaks of a trip and I was struggling to hold my lead in a maelstrom where stimulation came from everything. Even the hot oranges in the swirling patterns of the rug were sending vibrations down through my body. Marcus was idly playing with himself and toying with my balls.

‘Ok Time for some real fun, you bring that suit?’

‘Yeah but…’

‘Get it on we’re playing out’.

He disappeared into the hall, I pulled on my shirt and went through to the kitchen and grabbed another bottle of vino. Back in the lounge Marcus was slinking across the floor on all fours like a cat. His movements were pretty convincing as he loped onto the sofa and turning face gave me a chuckling faux snarl. I tugged my jeans on, ‘Follow me’.           Outside a damp mist clung about the trees and there was just the slightest bite to the air.  A path led from the side of the house steeply down into the wood, it wasn’t quite a hunters’ moon but there was enough to see by. I was fighting to keep my perceptions straight above the strobing confusion of the drug, consciously telling myself what was solid and real. The silhouetted branches and the cast of the moonlight gave the impression of a movie set. Brushing the switch in perception aside I paused for Marcus to catch up, he was getting distracted, picking his way on all fours through the leaves, scampering then pausing to check his surroundings. I had to remind myself that he wasn’t actually a wolf.

When we reached the hut I flicked my zippo and lifted the wooden latch.

It was used by the shoot that rented the woods as somewhere for the beaters to rest up between drives and have their lunch. Long benches lined both sides and an old refectory table ran the down the middle. I lit the candle in the hurricane lamp hanging behind the door. Marcus bounded in. He was completely given over to the effects of the acid, there was a giddy madness about him as he launched himself up onto the table and prowled along it like a caged animal. I took a coil of thick twine from the wall, ‘Ready to play?’      He reared up on his haunches. I could see the line of his new hard on under the suit. He rolled onto his back and started a grinding motion against the fabric, pleasuring himself.   I moved quickly, seizing both wrists behind his head, lashing the twine tight around them loop after loop until they were immovably bound. I pulled the zip on the suit right down releleasing the tension, denying him that friction. In the corner there was a large dog cage, I’d left a leader on his bindings and I pulled him up, ‘In you go’, he went in without protest, only making a small groaning noise as I pulled the leader tight and fastened his arms over his head to the roof of the cage. There was just enough space for him to kneel upright, his arms back supported by the twine. He was choosing to stay in character, making growling noises and fixing me with those coal black eyes.
Perfect.

Sitting back on the table I looked down at his milky pale exposed body and craving erection. ‘Patience little cub, it’s nearly showtime’. Right on cue I heard the snap of a twig and giggling from outside the hut, the door swung open.

‘Dr Livingstone I presume?’

‘What the fuck?’ The acid hadn’t been part of plan and I didn’t want Marcus freaking’

‘Relax, they’re friendly and besides you’re safe in there’.

Little white lie there, Emily was an old friend but I didn’t know him from Adam, which is ironic as that turned out to be his name. Emily’s latest stud from the student pool at the art college and she had chosen well.  I gave him the once over. He was lean but with an almost military bearing, model look, short cropped hair. He didn’t speak, just an acknowledging nod towards me and looking down at Marcus, a wry smile.
I kissed Emily pushing my mouth to her ear, ‘stick to the script but we’re tripping, take it easy’. ‘Cool’, she nodded and crouched down in front of Marcus. ‘That boner of yours is going to get a lot harder gorgeous wolf boy’
I moved to a side bench leaving them centre stage. Adam didn’t waste any time, stripping down, showing a hard crafted body. A black Yakuza tattoo of a giant carp rose over his right shoulder out of swirling,inky lotus tendrills that ran down his back forming the tail of a dragon that coiled, looping back up under his left arm and out across his chest.           He pushed Emily back across the table, throwing open her long fur coat. Underneath she was wearing one of her kooky fantasy costumes, her skin ivory white against the dark fur, his, smooth, deep bronzed by a gap year tan. They began gently, him using his mouth across her body holding her down. As he reached her pubis and the insides of her thighs she started to squirm, her fingers curled into his hair holding his head. I watched Marcus. He was on his haunches his attention held rapt, his wild-eyed sideward glance at me told me all I wanted to know. Emily was vocalising her desires, urging Adam on, telling him exactly what she wanted from him. He in turn was teasing her, making her ask for it.       He reared up from her turning towards to the cage. The great club of his erection was strapped to his stomach by the waistband of his pants. He slid one hand down its length unhooking them so they fell to the floor. The huge bulbous headed thing stood there, quivering above the massive weight of his balls. I heard the sharp intake of Marcus’s breath and saw the bead of forecum form at the head then roll down the underside of his own straining stem. Adam took himself in hand and turned back to Emily, now waiting on all fours clawing at his back. She began to play with him, moulding her lips around the plum head of his cock and drawing down hard on his sack using her nails against the root.  I thought I was going to lose control. The scene was hammering into my mind, bending and twisting, triggering jolts of crazed desire down into my loins. Adams’ deep, resonant lusting groans and Emilys’ short gasps made my cock ache for touch. Arching the gentle curve of her rear into her back, flattening her breasts against the table she offered herself to him, deliberately facing Marcus showing him the exquisite agony that Adams’ girth would give as he drove it in.

Adam had her firmly at the hips, the swollen bulb of his cock against her glistening wet, swollen slit. ‘Show him you big dicked fucker, make him burst those tight balls watching me coming on your fat meat. Show him…’

Emilys’ drawn out moan as he slid inch after inch into her, contorted her face into a mask of total abandon. They moved against each other in perfect sync, stinging each other with pleasure. I felt every slow thrust, my cock raging with the madness of it. They fucked endlessly, a stream of filth pouring from Emily describing everything, how she loved the grind of his balls against her, how his immense size drove her crazy and she came over and over while he fucked like a living machine. I was lost to it, loving the torment until a low grunting snapped me back to the real. Marcus was straining forward thrusting his dick up and out, fucking thin air, his fingers gripping the cage roof. His expression was wild, crazed with frustrated desire. He was coming, his balls rose tight up against him and the slit in the pulsing head opened, shooting strings of come arcing outwards. ‘Wow!’ Emilys’ eyes gleamed widening with her delight at the sight of the auto-orgasm that was pumping his balls. It was too much, I broke. Undoing Marcus I opened the cage and pulled him out. ‘Suck him! Put your mouth on him now!’ Emilys’ lips slipped down his pulsing stalk as she shuddered, climaxing with her mouth around Marcus and Adam slamming hard into her.  I pulled myself free, Adam smiled, he was the only one with any control left, ‘C’mere man’, he held out one hand towards my cock. I was spouting come the minute his fingers closed around me and started to move. As I throbbed in his hand he groaned, drawing himself out and splashing his hot white stuff over Emilys’ round little ass as she hummed the last drops out of Marcus. His eyes met mine and smiling he licked along his upper lip.

As I’m typing this up back home, Marcus is sprawled on the sofa, fast asleep. His supine form as languid as a drowned sailor, except for his dick, twitching against his stomach. I pour myself a glass of port from the decanter and I wonder where his dreams are.

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