Chapter 1 - A Writer and his Muse

I stood in my bedroom, looking out of my window, the darkness pierced by the lone street lamp posted in my back yard.  If not for it, this house would be cloaked completely in the night.  Dangerous, I suppose, but in a way hauntingly beautiful, as I would be able to see all the stars that elude my vision whenever that light shines.

The benefit, however, is watching my cat leap between the leaves in the dead of night, the bobcat blood in her short, stubby tail playing to her hunting instincts and making every fallen Autumn leaf seem to be either a dangerous threat or a delicious supper.

Ah, to be young, and also a cat.

My room was dark as well, illuminated only by a lone, dim lamp, which flickered like a dying sun on my bedside table.  I closed my eyes, letting out a sigh as my mind began to work through the day’s events.

A familiar, feminine voice soon rang in my mind like a distant chime.  “Penny for your thoughts?”

“It’s five cents now,” I informed the voice, turning my head back to my bed, where I knew she’d show herself.  “Inflation.”

Her heavenly chuckle filled my ears as she materialized, her form soon shimmering from the dim shadows.  She may have been female, but she was far from human, at least, for the moment.  Where humans have soft skin, she had supple, emerald-green scales; their texture folded one over the other creating round grooves that delight my fingers every time I touch them.  From her chest down, however, were much larger scales, two rows the color of pale grass running down her body as though someone split a snake down the middle. 

 Instead of a nose and mouth, she he out a snout and a muzzle.  Her hair was instead a two large horns, curved behind her head and touching their tips nearly a foot from her neck.  

Where our spines ended, hers continued into a long, lithe tail, ending with a tuft of soft fur.  Against her back, she had a pair of great, leathery wings, which were folded like a cloak against her shoulders.

As she fully materialized, her body continued to inspire awe in me.  Her scales were flecked with gold, visible only when the light was cast over her.  This allowed her shimmering astral coat to be seen, which was even more stunning when she unfolds her great wings and creates an entire emerald sky full of shimmering golden stars.

However, despite how wonderful her body was, it was her eyes that truly shone.  Her round pupils were surrounded by a piercing orange, making it seem as though one was staring at a bright, setting sun through a shallow, crystal-clear pool.  But even a shallow pool can drown someone, and other sensations seem dulled if I allow myself to be taken by those eyes for too long.

Right now, those eyes squint playfully, a smirk splitting upwards through her draconic lips.  “Is there another way I can pay you, mister?” Her question accented by crawling forward on the bed, a familiar and often effective tactic of seducing me.

“A check would be fine, too, but I want it certified,” I replied, getting a snort and a soft thump as a thick nickel popped against the back of my head.  Sighing, I turned around, watching her poke her tongue out from between those supple scaled lips.

“Fair enough,” I told this creature, my muse, as I walked towards the bed.  “What do you want to know?”

She watched me approach with that same little smile, laying back on the bed and stretching her arms over her head.  The question was basically rhetorical, as she knew exactly what was on my mind, yet she insisted on making me tell her.  I sat down, facing my Chemical Wedding poster of a demonic suitor embracing a lovely, beautiful angel.  The balance of light and darkness is a theme for me, as is the unity of both of those forces.

She was quick to snap me out of my short sojourn into philosophy.  “Whatever you want to tell me,” she said, her long arms throwing themselves over my neck as her wings fold just beneath my neck, blanketing me in her cloak.  I hummed with the comfort, and began to regale her.

“There’s a lot to do,” I said, her scaled head brushing against my cheek to urge more out of me.  “Let’s forget for a moment that I haven’t put out a story in a while.  I could seriously do with an overhaul right now.  I haven’t heard anything from my college application, and I’m not even sure if I could go now that I don’t have a job.”

“What about unemployment?”

“No go.  Not till the end of the month, anyway.  I was fired because I was sick too many days, remember?   They docked me eight weeks.  It’s gonna suck.”

“Yeah… but you knew it was going to happen,” she reminded me, her claws scratching a little at my chest.  “That’s why you were putting stocks into the company since day one.  Having almost fifteen-hundred dollars in ‘retirement’ isn’t half bad, you know, seeing as how you were only there for a year.”

This was one of the many things she was good at: helping me to see the silver linings.  So I started listing my other internal grievances and having her help me sort them out into manageable piles.  Together, we came up with a few solutions, like setting college back until the beginning of next fall and the like.  The simple, physical problems were solved easily enough, but when it got to the stories that I had neglected, we both became silent for a bit.

“What should we do here?”  I rose my hand and laid it across the side of her cheek, softly pressing it into my face.  She sighed happily with the touch, letting her tail fold over my waist and drape down across my legs.

“You know you don’t need to write,”

“Yeah… but then you’d be out of a job, wouldn’t you?”

“Inspiration, dear, is not restricted to literature.”

I chuckled at that.  “Yes… but I want to finish what I have started.  I also still like writing, but with all the bs, it’s hard to keep my mind on one thing long enough to scribe it.  I mean Hells alive, I could barely organize these thoughts before.”

“That’s what makes your head so fun,” she said, giggling and dropping her arms from around my neck.  “It’s like an Escher painting with sex and crazy.”

“Granted,” I told her, imagining an orgy on the impossible staircase before shaking the random thought out of my head.  “But it’s not great for keeping a straight thought.”

“Then forget thinking linear,” she tells me, giving me a moment to try and guess what she means.  “Why did you stop writing in the first place?”

“I became overcome, and I lost the drive.”

“Then what about your roleplays?”

I paused at that.  I have roleplayed nearly every night almost religiously ever since I got into it a year or so ago.  The subjects are endless, the stories compelling, and the sex… well, it makes the excuse of not having the drive a very moot point indeed.

She smiled at my understanding, her hands wrapping beneath my arms and sliding to the middle of my stomach.  “So the reason you haven’t written your stories isn’t because you’re not horny or don’t feel like writing… but because your subject of interest has changed drastically.”

I nodded. She seemed to be right.  Again.

“So how do we fix it?”

“I’m glad you asked,” she smiled, releasing her grip on me and crawling back over the bed.  “You act like you’re broken, but you’re far from it.  Write about what you feel like writing about, and let the world watch or weep.  The characters you have already written about aren’t going anywhere, and as inspiration strikes, chapters will be made, but forcing them out of you will only cause you to turn away from the whole project altogether.”

I closed my eyes, smiling a little bit.  “It seems reasonable…”

“So,” she smiled at me, unfurling her wings and folding them back around her shoulders like a robe.  “What do you want to write about?”

I gave it only a moment’s thought before deciding.  “Let’s try something different…”

“My favorite words,” her orange eyes glinted as she let the lamplight behind her cause golden stardust to shine.

“I want to write about you.”

Her glint faded as her eyes widened, no doubt playing back my revelation in her mind to see if she misheard me.  When she realized she didn’t, she asked me, with a soft, curious voice, “Why?”

“It’s a new idea,” I told her simply, turning around to face my draconic muse.  “As days go by, I see blogs and journals that tell of their daily happenstance and emotional failings.  Amusing to read at times… but utterly lacking in substance.  However…”

I crawled forward on the bed, my shirt hanging loosely from my frame as I drew closer to her.  “If I were to create a journal or a blog, then why go the normal route?”

She grinned, predicting which station my train of thought was about to crash into.

“You want to make a kink journal.”

“Mm, not that your insight won’t do me a world of good seeing it written down… but if I’m going to post about my day,” I said, only a few inches from my dragoness.  “Then I’ll at least give them something worth their time to look at.”

She laughed a little, scooting her rump against the headboard and sitting up beside me.   “I’d read it.  So what should be the first subject of this erotic little blog of yours?”

“The naughtiest, most perverse thing I can think of.  It’s something so disgusting and raunchy that I’ve only seen it once, maybe twice in other stories.”

Her bright orange eyes gazed into mine, her tail flicking in a tell that spoke volumes of her anxiousness, allowing her voice to stay as calm and soft as other.  “Oh?  Whatever could that be?”

I flashed my teeth in a wicked grin.  “Consensual, heterosexual, vaginal sex in the missionary position.”

She gasped aloud, “My, you naughty thing!  Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

I raised my hand to her face, bringing my own closer to her.  “Never like this,” I told her, watching her eyes flutter closed and her amused, sarcastic smirk fold back into place in anticipation for my kiss.  Our mouths met gently, the texture of our lips different textures, yet mashing together the same way, opening slowly to introduce our tongues.  Hers was much longer than mine, and much lither, so I held my tongue out so that it had something to wrap around.  It wasn’t the deepest kiss we’ve ever done, but it was fitting for what we were about to do.

She opened her mouth wider to allow her tongue more freedom, her throat letting out that gentle, rasping purr that helped remind me of how alien she was.  Her hand slid to my face as well, yet it didn’t stay there, her claws sliding from my cheek to my chin, then down my neck.  She dragged them over the buttons of my sleeping shirt, expertly undoing them one at a time.  As they did, my other hand palmed her chest, the sleek, flat scales of her natural form only swelling with breasts when she knew I desired them.  At the moment, it was just her.  A sweet sentiment I’m sure would seem just adorable if I spoke it, but I seemed to be doing well conveying these thoughts with just my mouth, my hands, and the moan against her tongue when I felt those claws drag across my chest, pressing a gentle, bloodless path down my midsection, resting just above the beginnings of my trimmed pubic trail.

Yeah, she knew how I felt.

The soft pop of the small, metal buttons on my sleeping pants rang out against the quiet of the room, making me break the kiss with another quiet moan.  It hasn’t been long, but I was already beginning to grow hard beneath her scaled fingers, my cock pulsing to life rapidly.

But being the torturous thing that she is, she wouldn’t lay a finger on my sex until it was hard, a prideful habit oh her part to see if she could arouse me in other ways.  She instead combed the sharpened edge of her claw through my pubic patch, the gentle grazing of my flesh effectively redirecting my blood.

I was far from idle myself, though.  My hand slid up and down her thigh, feeling it grow warmer beneath my touch.  My fingertips dipped between the grooves of her scales, which were more delicate the closer they came to her sex.

My cock now throbbed, her knuckle bumping against the pulsing flesh and alerting her that she had completed her devilish teasing ritual.  My shaft was soon enveloped in a tight grasp, the thick meat trying to jump away from her fingers as she started to pump me.  I always considered myself lucky for being uncircumcised, making it easier to masturbate without lotion or lube.  She wasted no time, but did slowly, keeping with our especially raunchy plan for tonight.

My hand replied in kind, sliding farther up her leg.  My knuckles grazed her slit, the slightest pressure letting me pull one side open.  I could tell the cool air of the bedroom hitting that sensitive flesh had a silent, subtle, but very potent effect on her, her eyes closing and her pace quickening.

But my mouth was getting dry, and, as much as I loved her hand, I was much more appreciative of what my hand lay so close to.  I’m tragically addicted to oral sex, drinking the nectar from her iris as if it were a drug.  Based on the effects it had on me, it might as well be.

My body shifted, and my front half started to bend down across her chest.  Her free claw placed itself between my shoulders, not pushing, but pleading for me to go further, her other hand conflicted as it continued to pump me.  It released me as I slid further down the bed, my lips first kissing just above her naval, right between the split of her warm, smooth scales.  There was no belly button, but I knew where those nerves were.  Practice made perfect.

She hissed in a breath, her back arching up and relaxing with a sigh.  I crawled my legs backwards, the blanket dragging beneath me as I repositioned myself.  As I slid further away, her claws dragged from my back to my head, ruffling my hair as I assumed one of my many rightful places.  I discarded my shirt in the process, always preferring to feel her scales against my skin rather than my clothes.

My breath followed her thighs until they washed against her sex, growing closer and hotter the nearer I was to her.  She continued to grab and squeeze my hair, silently pleading with that little bit of control she was offered.

But my hands refused to go faster, the teasing going both ways as they laid just on the outside of her lower lips.  My fingertips drummed along her belly scales, my thumb pressing and massaging her crotch.  Her cunt already glistened in the dim light, the subtle smell indescribable to all but my most primal senses, which knew it as ‘female in need.’  It was an elegant perfume that only grew stronger the more I pulled and pushed, her lips folding back against her opening and her clit.

Her other claw soon joined the first, and her grip was growing less kind.  I’m sure that if I didn’t do something a little heavier soon, she was going to glue me to her crotch.  She had every right to, I suppose; I was being a bit mean.  So I surrendered, giving a deep sigh from the warmest part of my lungs before bringing my lips to her sex.

I kissed her outer lips, softly pressing my mouth on either side and sucking gently enough to pull a bit of her flesh between my teeth.  I released it, letting my teeth pinch the swollen flesh before it returned to her crotch.  I heard her moan and say something, but it was quiet.  The tone was very clear, however, that she was enjoying it, so there was no reason to stop now.  

Besides, I was having far too much fun.

Her lower lips were so swollen that they seemed pink beneath her  scales, her tail pushing up against my chest, stomach, and my pubic bush, trying to reach the tip of my erection, which was mashed against the thankfully soft covers.  Her grip on my hair relaxed and folded to my shoulders, crawling up my arms as they in turn roamed up her body.  I folded them over her belly button, holding her still and steady for me as I started to truly enjoy my position.

My tongue darted out, that single lick from the base of her slit to the clit making her gasp.  The tip of my tongue painted her entrance, wiping circles around that tight hole before slipping back to her clit and folding itself around that precious pearl.  I pulled it into my mouth, my reward being claw marks raking into my arm and hips pushing her sopping sex into my chin.

I swallowed, making her gasp again, before continuing my willing work, licking and sucking, soft bites and softer kisses, drinking what she gave me and forcing her to give me more.  Eventually, she gave me all I wanted, my arms unable to keep her shivering muscles from launching her crotch into my lips with a tense thrust.  It wasn’t a big orgasm, but it was enough to give my tongue hell as it tried to push back in, the constricting muscles both denying me and teasing me with its tightness.

I lifted my wet mouth from her sex, my chin dripping with her juices as I began to crawl forward, over her.  I was able to focus on her face again, her orange eyes half-veiled by her eyelids.  Her chest rose and fell with deep breaths, and a sly little smile played across her lips.  “Enjoy yourself?”  

Her question made me return that smile, my arms wrapping underneath her shoulders and pulling her into my chest.  “You tell me,” I said, leaving my lips open to kiss her again.  Her tongue did a wonderful job of cleaning my mouth of her juices.  It also kept me busy as I shifted my hips, her thighs over mine and her tail helping to guide my way.  My tip slid up her scaled body, finding her slit and having the loose flesh of my foreskin mash against her clit.  Her throat rumbled with the sudden spike of pleasure, and her wings, which had before been held off to the side, rose up, creating a basin for me made of those gold-spattered membranes.

I couldn’t stop from pushing in after that.

We broke our kiss to moan, my head resting against her neck and hers folding over my shoulder.  Her claws grabbed my back, and my hips began pumping her, the velvet vice of her tunnel still shaking with her last orgasm.  I pulled back and started thrusting, enjoying the wet friction, making sure her lower lips kissed my hips and her tail hole winked against my sack each time.  Slow, passionate, this was the plan.

But minds begin to cloud, and muscles grow anxious.  The best laid plans often go awry, and without realizing it, my thrusting was becoming faster, the friction no longer enough.  I wanted to start a fire.

Her grip on my back was becoming harsher and harsher, claws starting to dig into flesh.  She must have sensed this, because she shot her hands to the bed, gripping just below her wings and nearly tearing into the covers.  I rose up, my hands sliding from her shoulders to her hips as I sat fully on my knees.  I lifted her lower body off the bed, sacrificing the speed I had for power, making every hit count against that sweet spot within her.

Her legs wrapped around to the base of my spine, trying to keep me inside of her.  This just made me push harder, letting her legs help me slam back into her.  Every hit made us wince with pleasure, her g-spot being hammered and my cock being treated to sudden clenching of her inner tunnel.

Her tail was thrashing between my legs, slipping back and around my leg, which should have been my first warning.  My mind was too clouded with pleasure to heed them, though, which set my plan up for a terribly wonderful fall.

The second hint was when her hands slammed into my chest and pushed me onto my back, the bed bouncing with the sudden shift.  Her tail pulled my leg straight, my other forced to follow.  Her chest fell on top of mine, her eyes beaming into mine.

I was nearly panting when I said, with a smirk, “This isn’t missionary, my dear.”

“Mmm, shut the fuck up,” she replied, her voice deep and husky as she started bouncing up and down on my shaft.  I shook my head and started thrusting up into her, grabbing her hips for support and watching her pleasure herself on my cock.

She would bounce up, slam down, and grind me, the nub of her clit brushing against my pubic hair.  Her arms slid to my shoulders and held me down, or supported herself, I don’t know.  But if she was going to compromise my little experiment, then I wasn’t going to play nice either.  My fingers gripped tighter, my feet planted on the bed, and my hips cocked upwards into one of her grinds.  It felt good for her, but it was about to feel better.

I started fucking her fast, very fast, the kind of fast you see on the Discovery channel late at night when they show the ‘good stuff.’  She shouted, her wings fluttering and her body quickly rising up and leaning back.  She grabbed my knees as she arched her back, making sure my rapid-fire thrusting hit against her g-spot.  She tried bouncing with me, but couldn’t keep up.  Her tail whipped around my ankle, using it as the only other support and also telling me of her approaching second orgasm.

I welcomed it when it washed over me, but quickly found that the extra squeeze that it brought made it nearly impossible for me to continue this rabbit thrusting.  I traded it for power, raw, strong pounding to get as deep into her climaxing cunt as I could.  But, when she came, her wings unfolded as her teeth clenched tight, the flickering bulb of my lamp casting thousands of golden supernovas against the emerald canvass of her wings.

I was late, but I couldn’t hold it in after that.  My crotch tensed, my orgasm knotted behind my balls, and soon it exploded into her, the moist heat of her tunnel so blistering that I couldn’t even feel my cum fall back against me.  I felt it only when it was shooting from my tip, and when it started rolling onto my thighs, leaving with the remnants of her own juices.

She laid back against me, or rather slumped, her whole weight against my chest a form of compliment, as was her deep breathing and the way her tail kept squeezing my ankle and releasing, squeezing and releasing, again and again, as reliable as the beat of her heart.

I smiled, “You’re welcome.”

I received a soft, weak, tired jab into my ribs for that.  We both lie there panting, chuckling, giggling and basking in the afterglow of our heat.  Only when it settled down could she muster a verbal reply.

“Sorry it wasn’t as planned.”  It wasn’t sincere.

“Ah, it was my fault,” I told her, my head and neck rolling.  “I shouldn’t have bothered to plan sex with a being of spontaneous creativity.  You never did listen…”

Another jab, this one a little harder, but not enough to hurt.  Her soft fist then opened and began rubbing the spot, soothing me with mock sincerity.  “Next time I bite.”

“Oh hush,” I told her, looking to the computer that sat on a small table by my bed.  “This is going to be fun to type up…” I sighed, my voice riddled with sarcasm.

“Mm, and don’t forget your other stories, dear,” she reminded me, drumming her fingertips on my ribs.  “You have a lot of work in front of you.”

I smiled.  Yeah, there is a lot of work I have to get done.  Thankfully, though, I wasn’t alone in this endeavor.

I looked at the next chapter of Machinations of a Trainer I have sitting on my desktop, barely started.

“Let’s say we get started after this, alright love?”

“I hope by ‘after this,’” she started, grinding a little against my softening member.  “You mean after another round.”

I didn’t, but I wasn’t exactly going anywhere.

After that bit of fun finished, I started writing this journal.  It took a while, and I’m not going to reread it to check for errors.  If you stare at your old work for too long, you ruin it, so a spellcheck and its out.

I hope you enjoy what goes on here at my ‘studio,’ and please, expect more.  She sure is.

Then again… she’s insatiable.