A Moonlight Tryst [MF] [Werewolf] [Fantasy] [Str8] [bst]

Is it cliché? Perhaps. Is it hot? I certainly hope so. As always, I’d love to hear your comments and feedback. More stories on my profile.

Tags: >!Werewolf, witch, fantasy, reluctant->con!<

Enjoy!

Old Angie had been a fixture, if not a resident, of the little village for as long as anyone could remember. Others might have used accusations of witchcraft as a way to ostracize an already isolated old woman, but in Angie’s case, the truth of it was no secret. The townsfolk had all learned soon enough that it was in their best interest to give the old crone a respectful nod if their paths crossed. They left bread, cheese, and other small gifts on her doorstep if they were feeling generous, or had a particular need to be in her good graces. If livestock or children in the village fell ill, Old Angie was often the they would seek for aid. She was, more often than not, glad to assist with a poultice, curious drink, or a muttered spell that seemed to cure them right up.

Even the clergy, small and pious as they were, knew best to turn a blind eye on her activities. She wasn’t one for cursing and hexing like the preachers in the larger towns spoke of. Most people in the village had come to rely on her skills one time or another. Even those that didn’t had heard the story of the overzealous minister who had tried to set the old witch’s hut aflame. Old Angie had turned him back eventually, of course: she wasn’t cruel. Still, the point had been made, and the man had left town without a word, leaving his priest’s vestments behind in a tattered heap.

When the old woman had finally passed, there was a respectful mourning throughout the village, as well as a worry for their safety now that she was gone. Few suspected that Old Angie had family, but her two daughters had arrived from out west to pay their respects in the witches’ curious style. She wasn’t buried in the church grounds of course, but a pleasant spot just outside the village limits. Hearing the murmured concerns for the village at the loss of their resident witch, the two women had offered up a solution they found quite agreeable.

And so, it was only a week later when Angelica the Younger, at the behest of her mother and aunt, moved into her grandmother’s old home. The young witch remembered visiting in the fall, and hearing her grandmother’s old tales when she was child. There were the wilder ones of Old Angie’s youth of course, but her mother had assured her that those days were in the past. Angie’s role had been well established as a local healer: stepping into her shoes would be the perfect way for a novice witch like her to hone her skills. With that, the two older women had departed, leaving young Angelica by herself in the dusty hut.

While she had been anxious at first, her new duties proved to be nothing she couldn’t handle. A charm to help heal a broken arm here, wards to protect the cattle from fairy-shot there, and soon she had settled into the rhythm of things. The villagers treated her much the same as they had her grandmother. *Except,* Angelica thought as she stepped out the door, nearly treading on the third bundle of wildflowers that had been deposited on her doorstep that month. *I suspect she didn’t have to deal with suitors.* She chuckled, scooping them up and tying them to dry on the rafters with the others.

It didn’t surprise her too much: Angelica was marrying age now, and wasn’t too modest to admit others found her attractive. She was on the shorter side, and while not as slender as her mother, Angelica had inherited her auburn hair which she was quite proud of. The boys’ attention didn’t interest her though. Even if it had, it wasn’t as though they would be able to marry: her presence was tolerated by the church, but it was another thing entirely to have her on church grounds for a holy ceremony. Churches creeped her out, besides. *Focus, Ange!* she chided herself. This wasn’t the time to be daydreaming: she had preparations to make. After a few months, she had finally been tasked with something much harder, and potentially dangerous.

A few of the farmers had lost some livestock in animal attacks recently. In and of itself, that wasn’t unusual: losing a lamb or two to the wolves was just a part of life. However, Angelica had seen for herself the torn carcasses of the slain animals. No animal could do that: no natural one at least. Coupled with the fact that both attacks had occurred on nights with a full moon, and the oversized, canine tracks that had been left, there was little doubt as to the  culprit.

Angelica had never come across a werewolf herself, but her family had passed down stories and spells that were older than her late grandmother even. She had spent the past weeks pouring through her grandmother’s books and putting together a plan. If the werewolf had only recently been cursed, as she suspected, a strong enough spell might be able to break it. First, she would need to lure the creature to her. Then, provided she could charm the beast, or at least keep it calm, she would see about freeing the poor man.

On the evening before the full moon had risen, Angelica headed out into the woods outside town. She had dressed in a simple black robe, and bundled everything she would need tonight in her arms. Old Angie had told her of a place of power in these woods, and she would need every advantage she could get. It wasn’t difficult to find. A flat outcropping of stone, almost like a table or altar, jutted out from the centre of a clearing. Its surface was rough and crusted with colorful lichens. If Angelica looked carefully, she could make out worn carvings in the stone, but little was left besides a few lines and vague shapes. With the stone table at her back, Angelica got to work.

She built small fires around, letting them burn to coals before placing herbs upon them. The smoke from the wolfsbane was thick and pungent: When burned, it should make the werewolf calm and drowsy. It was getting dark faster than Angelica had anticipated, and she had to hurry. Finishing the last of her wards for her own protection, she set the bowl of lamb’s blood at her feet, and waited. It was still high summer, but the mountain to the west meant that night fell quickly. The shadows of the trees lengthened, stirring as a warm wind blew through them. Angelica’s trepidation grew as the light faded, her heart beating faster. When the dying beams of sunlight finally vanished, they were replaced with the pale light of the rising moon. An eerie howl sounded nearby, and Angelica shivered in spite of the warm night air. The lure seemed to be working: it wouldn’t be long now.

Hearing a sound, the witch turned her head in time to see a massive beast break from the cover of the trees. Approaching from behind, the werewolf circled around slowly, taking in the scent of blood, the young woman, and the heady smoke filling the clearing. The low fires that burned around did little to illuminate the beast, but Angelica could see it well enough. It was tall, even with its hunched stance, and it stalked forward on its hind legs. Its fur was a dark grey that was not quite black, and it shone glossy in the moonlight. Angelica held still as it approached, trusting her spells would keep the beast in check. It didn’t seem aggressive towards her, only confused. Its mouth parted for a moment however, showing wicked fangs and reminding her the creature wasn’t to be trifled with. She began her incantation. 

It was an old spell she had found in her grandmother’s notebooks. The spell had taken some time for Angelica to find: her grandmother’s penchant for messy handwriting and taking notes in the language of the old country didn’t help matters. Angelica had thought she might not find a solution to banish the creature, until she had come across this spell to “*Turn moon-struck wolf to man.*” At least, that was as close as the young witch could figure: she didn’t speak the language well, but as long as she had the pronunciation right, it shouldn’t matter

Murmuring in the old tongue, she extended her hand, offering it like she was introducing herself to an unfamiliar dog. It seemed to be working. The creature stopped growling, growing noticeably calmer as her words washed over it. It sniffed her hand for a moment, stepping forward until its cold nose brushed her knuckles. Its ears perked up like a mutt, and Angelica had to suppress a chuckle. The pink tongue flicked over her fingers, once again revealing its sharpened fangs. *His, not its,* Angelica reminded herself. Beast or no, there was a man in there somewhere, and she was here to bring him back out.

“It’s alright.” she said, her voice calmer than she felt. She let him lick at her hand, and felt his hot breath on her palm. “Let’s see what we can do about all this, hmmm?” There was something peculiar about this werewolf she noticed, reaching out with her mind. Something about him seemed… old somehow. More feral, if not more violent. “You’ve been this way for a long time, haven’t you?” she whispered to the beast, before resuming the second part of her incantation. It only huffed low in response, taking a step closer. Angelica closed her eyes, searching for the spark of humanity inside the creature. Her concentration was shattered as his warm tongue lapped across her face.

“Ahh, hey!” she exclaimed, nearling stumbling backwards as her legs bumped up against the stone slab. Something was wrong. The werewolf didn’t seem angry, but it was restless beneath the charm, and Angelica wasn’t sure how to proceed. She wasn’t ready to give up though. As she began again, the creature brought its muzzle close. His breath was hot and moist against her collarbone, and this close, she could smell the musky animal scent on his fur. He nuzzled at her, until she caught a flash of white teeth. Angelica barely had time to flinch, but rather than biting her, they sank into the fabric of her cloak. With a sharp tug, the clasps came free and the coat fell open.

“Hey! What’s… ah!” Almost before she could protest, the werewolf leaned down, licking at her exposed breasts. His tongue was rough and wet, and Angelica’s nipples stood stiff almost instantly. He lapped insistently at her, and the witch soon realized she was effectively pinned against the slab of rock. When she tried to edge away, a clawed hand suddenly clamped over her neck.

His grip wasn’t choking, but he pushed until she was forced to lie back, pinned against the flat stone. Her heart pounded, terrified, but the wolf still seemed perfectly calm, sniffing at her throat curiously. He gazed at the trembling witch impassively for a moment, before moving his attention back to her chest. *What did I do wrong?* she wondered in a panic. The beast wasn’t attacking, but her spell to turn him back clearly hadn’t taken effect. *And what is he…?* Angelica froze, eyes going even wider.

“Grandma, you dirty old…” she cursed. *Ceile,*, the word she hadn’t been able to translate from the title of the spell: she recalled its meaning now. Old Angie had used it when referring to Angelica’s grandfather, it meant “partner” or “spouse” essentially. She gasped when she received a gentle nip on her left nipple. It was rough, but showed more precision than she expected from the beast. Angelica wriggled, but he held her firm on her back against the stone. *Put together with the rest of the phrase…* She muttered the proper translation out loud.

“To turn a moon-struck wolf into a lover.” Angelica muttered, swearing again, but her tirade was cut off with a gasp as his tongue ran up from between her breasts to the soft skin of her throat where he held her. Her legs hung over the edge of the stone table, and as the werewolf pressed in, he used his hips to wedge Angelica’s knees apart. He ran a long, sharp claw down from her collarbone, tearing roughly through the rest of her clothing and leaving her bare from the waist down as well. When something hot and slick pressed between her legs, she didn’t have to look in order to know the beast’s intentions.

“You’re… ahm…” she twisted, trying in vain to get to a position where his cock wasn’t rubbing against her. She wasn’t successful. It rested heavily against the lips of her pussy, twitching occasionally as it continued to swell. “Big.” Angelica finished, rather taken aback. The werewolf lifted its head from her chest, and the witch could finally catch a glimpse of it. Just as canine as the rest of him, his shaft was deep red and thickly veined. It had a slight bulge to its base, and narrowed to a pointed tip. Her gaze flicked up to the werewolf’s face, meeting the feral stare of its own yellow eyes back at her.

“Look, this has really been a misunderstanding.” she reasoned, twisting her shoulders. The wolf started to push its hips back and forth, dragging the underside of his shaft over Angelica’s pussy. She bit her lip, squirming and trying to stay focused. “So if we could just…” The witch had to stop as he licked at her mouth. She could taste his salvia, the huge tongue flicking past her teeth for just a moment before it pulled away. “Mmmm.” she moaned, as he began to grind against her even harder. “Uh… another time maybe?” her voice squeaked. A clawed hand clamped around her hip, locking her whole body in place. “No?” Angelica bit her lip, feeling the hard bulge of his cock rub against her again, insistently. *Damn it!* she cursed. *How do I get out of this one?*

“Maybe we can… ahhhh… mmmm…” this time, he had tried to push inside. The tip parted Angelica’s lips for just a moment, but the angle was wrong and he slipped past. Even still, it was enough to make her legs quiver. Her heart pounded, but it wasn’t just fear driving it now.  The werewolf seemed a bit confused, and it changed its grip, holding her around the waist with both hands now. Angelica was able to prop herself up, but he was still much too strong for her to slip away. Muscles bulged through its fur, and she got the sense he was being deliberately gentle with her. His cold snout tickled her bare stomach as he sniffed at her, taking in her scent.

“Hold on!” the witch shouted, catching on to where this was going. “If you think you can bribe me with…” HIs tongue darted out in a flash of pink. Like a dog lapping from a bowl, it pressed against her entire pussy before jerking upwards. Angelica threw her head back, biting her lip to hold in a moan. *Fuck me… maybe he can!* she realized. She hadn’t expected it to feel that good, but the beast’s tongue was massive: hot, and slick. He licked at her furiously, his tongue making a soft *lap, lap, lap* as it slapped against her cunt. Each time, it started at the base, spreading out as he pushed harder, and finally flicked up over her clit. Angelica’s breath grew shaky, and she fidgeted restlessly with her hands. *I should have… I can’t…* She stared up at the sky, watching the full moon creep over the tops of the trees as her body shuddered. *Damn it…*

Angelica reached out a shaky hand, placing it on the top of the werewolf’s head. It paused for an instant before resuming. She closed her eyes, pushing down: guiding him lower. Amazingly, the beast followed her lead. *What am I doing?* Angelica spread her legs, allowing the wolf to press his whole muzzle up against her. His tongue reached deeper, probing up inside her pussy. The rough surface dragged against her each time it pulled back. Her eyelids fell half-closed in ecstasy. *I can’t believe I’m going through with this!* Doubts aside, she didn’t make much of an effort to stop herself.

Her hands clenched. The thick fur on the beast’s head bristled between her fingers as she took two handfuls of it, pulling him closer. He pressed in until his whole muzzle was pressed against her, bared teeth set against her slick lips. He was gentle though, and she never felt much more than his powerful tongue. Feel it she did though, and the treatment soon had her writhing in the creature’s grip. Angelica pushed harder on his head, panting like a wolf herself. She wanted instinctively to feel him deeper, but there wasn’t any further he could reach with just his tongue. He squeezed her tighter, clawtips pushing dimples into the soft flesh of her backside.

“Fuck… how are you so good…mmm… with that?” She asked the beast. *Did the spell… show him somehow?* That didn’t seem quite right: there was still something instinctive about how he acted. Regardless, the werewolf certainly knew how to make her feel incredible. Each time his tongue pulled back out, her knees practically knocked together. As the creature dragged her forcefully towards an orgasm, the witch closed her thighs around his massive, furred head. She was no longer worried about what the creature might do to her: she was elated.

“Yes!” She cried, her voice choking it to a hoarse whisper. She crossed her ankles behind the beast’s neck, locking him to her. For a moment, he tried to pull back, but she squeezed her legs, demanding he let her finish. *I’m so close!* The werewolf wouldn’t be dissuaded, however. Releasing her for the moment, it reached up with its huge paws, gripping each of Angelica’s legs and pulling them apart.

“No!” Angelica begged. “Please, keep going!” Angelica begged. She teetered on the edge of an orgasm, feeling it start to slip now that the beast raised his head. Undeterred, the werewolf let out a low growl and leaned in close. She felt his breath on her face, and the rumble of his chest as he pressed his body against hers. Clamping one hand on her shoulder, he brought the other back to her hip and tugged the witch towards the edge of the stone slab. Her pussy was practically dripping from the wolf’s tongue and her arousal. The tip of his cock reached her, and she barely had a moment to react before he slammed his hips forward in a single, powerful thrust.

Pleasure erupted throughout her entire body. Angelica threw her head back, nearly striking it on the stone, and her eyes all but rolled in sudden ecstasy as she came just from him entering. It was easily the most powerful orgasm she had ever felt. The werewolf’s body pressed flat to hers. Even the small bulge at the base had been forced inside her pussy, spreading her tight. He licked his chops, as if savouring the moment. It gave the witch just enough time to return to her senses. “God… that was…ohhh” she slurred.

She opened her mouth again, but words failed her. The sudden rush had begun to fade and diffuse, making her limbs feel heavy and restless all at once. His cock filled her completely, far deeper than she even thought possible. It throbbed with his heartbeat, twitching inside her as if anxious to continue. Angelica looked back up and locked eyes with the great canine beast for a moment before his muzzle lowered to her neck. He licked up from her collarbone to her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. With that, he started to thrust. If the young witch had thought the beast’s tongue was overwhelming, she was not prepared for this.

His thick cock barely managed to squeeze in and out of her tight pussy, the entire shaft stretching her wide. He didn’t push the tight knot back inside, but it ground against Angelica’s clit at the apex of every thrust. She let out a tiny moan each time it did, which grew faster and faster as the werewolf increased the pace. Her nails scratched restlessly on the pitted slate beneath her. The grip on her body was firm, holding her still against the wild pounding and her own shudders of ecstasy. The beast panted with effort, tongue lolling. Angelica threw her arms around him.

“Harder!” She pleaded, her lips inches from one pointed ear “I need you…” She ran her hands through his heavy coat, halfway between a lover’s embrace and petting an excited dog. When she opened her mouth to speak again, the beast lowered his muzzle to her face. Opening wide happily, she kissed him back as his long tongue flicked out of his mouth and into hers. Angelica could still taste her own pussy on his tongue. She held herself until she had to pull back for breath, but as she did, there was a sudden lurch. The werewolf’s grip tightened on her shoulder as he hauled her bodily off the stone, as if she were nothing but a mannequin.

The cool night air breeze against her bare back cut was in sudden, stark contrast to the blazing heat of their bodies pressed together. He curled one arm around her shoulders and the other across her waist to support her. Not even for a moment did his thrusts break their relentless rhythm. Angelica had to cling to his muscular neck, dizzy from more than the sudden change in position. She pressed herself to his shoulder, taking in the musky smell of his fur and feeling the muscles working beneath it as she bounced in his grip.

*I’m so close!* she thought, closing her eyes against his chest. *God, I’m going to cum for him again!* The beast’s breath was ragged, and the thrusts slowed, getting deeper as he neared a climax. At last, his knot, nearly swollen to its full size already, strained against Angelica’s pussy. When it finally slipped inside, it sent her over the edge. The young witch’s moans were muffled as she screamed into her bestial lover’s fur, quivering as she came in his arms. With the knot securing them together, his seed pumped into her, cock throbbing in her pussy. She half-expected to him to howl, but the werewolf only let out a low, rumbling *huff*, hugging the witch tight to his body.

They stood, both breathless for a moment. Then, the werewolf lowered Angelica to the ground, setting her gently in the summer grass. Unable to separate until his knot released her, he lay down on his side as well, one furry arm draped protectively over her. Exhausted and dizzy, the witch pressed close to her newly consummated lover, his enormous body shielding her bare skin from the night chill. His cock still twitched weakly inside her, the last pumps of semen flowing into her body.

“That was…” Angelica started once she had regained her breath. She stopped. There weren’t words to describe it: best to leave the spreading afterglow unnamed. “Who are you?” She asked instead, tilting her head up to the beast’s head. All she could see was the underside of his long muzzle. Even if the creature could speak in this state, his chest already rose and fell in the steady pattern of sleep: one that soon overtook Angelica as well. *I suppose it doesn’t matter.* She pressed her face into his fur, glad for the warmth.

The witch startled awake some hours later, with the sky just starting to brighten with the dawn. The werewolf was gone, but laid over her shoulders was the robe she had worn last night. It was badly torn, but she pulled it tightly around herself anyways as she sat up. Legs shaking and cool from however much of the night she spent alone, Angelica got to her feet, glancing around the clearing. There was no sign of him anywhere: even the soft grass at her feet yielded no tracks.

“Did I… really do that?” she asked herself out loud. Inspecting her body, she seemed to be fine. Aside from a few scratches, the only evidence of the night they had had was a slowly drying line of cum that had trickled down her thighs. She pursed her lips and wiped it off on the hem of her cloak. It was practically rags at this point anyways. Still a little stunned, Angelica glanced off in the direction the werewolf had first come, towards the mountains. “Maybe grandma had the right idea after all…” she mused, before picking her way unsteadily back to town.

From that point on, the village where the witch lived was never troubled by werewolves or the like. When pressed for how she had slain the beast, she corrected that it had merely been banished, and that she would have to repeat the ritual every night of the full moon. She had insisted that the ritual must be performed in solitude, and the villagers simply shrugged, agreeing to keep clear: they seldom entered that part of the woods anyways, especially at night. As for the fact that, after several of her regular trips into the woods,  her belly began to swell with child: the villagers knew better than to risk offending her with further questions. They merely thanked her for her continued protection, and left witch business to the witches.

Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/o7oi3a/a_moonlight_tryst_mf_werewolf_fantasy_str8_bst