You reach down and take the undies from his hand, bringing them up to your own nose for a moment, inhaling once, then dropping them onto the bench beside him.
The wolf swallowed hard. His throat worked visibly.
You reached down and hooked a finger under the wolf’s chin, tilting his face up.
“Take the jacket off.”
The wolf hesitated for only a second before shrugging out of the suit jacket. It fell to the floor behind him in a soft heap. His white shirt was already damp at the collar from the heat of the moment. His nipples erect and peeping through his white shirt.
You watch him for another long moment. Next without any warning you turn around and place your back to him. You turn your head to the side and look at him out the corner of your eye. Next you smirk. That cheeky devilish knowing grin where you’re absolutely know what you’re about to do next. You take one of those godlike feet and place it on the locker bench next to you. Finally, you drop your towel to the ground exposing those glorious Spanish globes. The wolf stood there shocked.
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” You said teasingly as you arched your back, teasing exposure to your inner ring.
The wolf stood there stunned. You attacked him the same way you did on the court: unexpectedly and totally unpredictable. The swift leg up on the locker bench arched back movement happened so quickly, he hardly had time to register it even happening. This is what made you so deadly. The unexpected action. Leading the wolf to feel like he stepped into a fever dream.
“On your hands and knees.” You order.
The wolf’s eyes flickered with something between shame and hunger. Slowly, he lowered himself down until both hands were flat on the cool tile. The position made his back arch slightly, the expensive fabric of his trousers pulling tight across his ass.
The moment hung in the air, charged.
You reach back with one hand, fingers spread across the firm muscle of your own ass as you pull yourself open, inch by inch. At first, it was just the shape of you: the powerful lines of your strong back narrowing down to your waist, the skin smooth like olive oil. Then slowly revealing the most intimate part of your body. Your movement was unhurried, almost casual. Like it was nothing. But the effect it has on the wolf was anything but casual.
His hands, which had been resting on his thighs, slowly curled into fists.
Gradually more was revealed. The deep crease between your cheeks came into view. The air in the room seemed to change as the scent of him became stronger: that deep, masculine musk that lingered. Warm. Earthy. Concentrated.
You turn your head to the side, getting off on his reaction and ask him completely unprovoked: “Why smell it on my clothes when you can smell the real thing right here?”
The wolf’s eyes moved slowly, almost reluctantly, as if he was afraid of looking at it too directly. When he finally settled on what it is that you were showing him, something in the wolf’s posture changed. His shoulders dropped a fraction. His head tilted slightly forward without him seeming to notice. His lips parted, but no sound came out.
He was staring at your asshole.
Not with simple hunger but with something so raw and consuming. His eyes moved over every detail of your hole like he was trying to memorize it: the way the skin looked there, the subtle texture, the way it tightened and relaxed with each of your slow breaths. He loved how it shifted slightly as you adjusted your grip, and the wolf’s eyes followed it.
You could feel the weight of that stare. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t speak. You simply kept yourself held open, letting the wolf look for as long as he wanted.
The wolf had gone completely still. Even his breathing seemed to have slowed, like he had forgotten how to do it properly. His eyes didn’t move away. They stayed locked on hole, wide and unblinking, like he was afraid that if he looked away even for a split-second, it would disappear.
You let the silence stretch. Letting him sit in it. Making him feel the full weight of what was being shown to him — not just the body, but the fact that it was being offered in this way. Deliberately. Slowly. Without urgency.
The suited man looked like he had stopped existing anywhere else except in the space between his eyes and the show you were giving him.
*
You jerked your head to the side: “Come closer,” you dared.
The wolf slowly crawled forward on his hands and knees with his eyes fixed on your pink shrivelled pucker buried under all the hair. He moved forwards, wolflike in the way he crawled. Almost predatory and slow.
You stayed exactly where you were, holding yourself open. The sight most inviting.
The wolf was frozen, his breathing had gone shallow and uneven, fearful that if he breathed too loudly, suddenly the moment would end.
You glance over your shoulder, with a sexy arrogant smirk on your face. You knew what he wanted. What he’d been waiting for. You felt so slutty in this moment. Not in a bad way but in an emboldened way. Like you just knew you were rewiring the wolf’s pleasure centre with sight and smell alone. Recognizing that what the wolf was experiencing will be etched inside his brain forever. And that he’d probably masturbate to this for all eternity. Knowing this makes you feel so desired in this moment, with a slow, amused cocky smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.
“You’re staring like you’ve never seen one before,” you said, voice low and teasing. “It’s just an ass.”
The wolf didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His eyes were still fixed. Pupils blown wide. Like he’s on drugs. But the drug is your asshole.
You shift your weight slightly, just enough to make the skin move under your hands. The dark hairs around your hole brushed lightly across the locker room air. The suited man made a small, involuntary sound in the back of his throat.
You chuckle softly.
“Close your mouth,” you say. “You’re going to drool on the floor.”
The wolf’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t pull back. He was getting closer now. The smell growing stronger. The sight becoming clearer. He leaned in a fraction closer, like he just couldn’t help himself. You could feel the heat of his presence approaching your back — as if the air around the wolf carried his own heat as he drew closer.
You give your ass the smallest, deliberate wiggle, just enough to make everything shift and flex in front of his face.
“Do you like that?” he asked, almost conversationally. “The way it looks and smells?”
The man’s hands flexed against his own thighs. His voice, when it finally came, was rough and quiet.
“Please…”
You hummed low, pretending to consider it.
“Please what?” you asked. “Be specific. I like it when you’re specific.”
The man swallowed hard. His eyes never leaving your perfect hole.
“Please… let me taste it.”
You let the silence stretch for a few seconds, still holding yourself open. Then you spoke again, voice dripping with amusement.
“You want to eat my ass that badly?” he cooed softly. “After everything else you’ve done tonight? Sniffing and licking my dirty shorts and underwear, sniffing my socks like an animal. and now you’re on your knees, drooling because I turned around and showed you my asshole?”
He gave another small, teasing roll of his hips, letting the sight wash over the wolf all over again.
“You’re filthy,” you say, almost fondly. “I like that.”
The wolf’s cock was visibly straining against his trousers now, a dark, embarrassing wet patch forming at the front. He looked like he was barely holding it together.
“You can look,” you say. “You can even smell. But no taste yet.”
He shifted his grip, pulling himself open just a little wider.
“Not until I say so.”
The wolf’s breathing hitched again. He looked like he was one slow breath away from leaning in and taking what he wanted — but he didn’t. He knew you liked restraint and control, so he stayed right where he was, on all fours, trembling with the effort to hold himself back.
You glanced back again, catching his eyes.
“Good,” you murmur. “At least now you’re learning how to wait.”
You stay like that for a while longer — ass spread, hole on full display, the heavy, masculine scent rolling off you in waves — while the wolf was on all fours behind you, completely undone and forced to do nothing but look and take it in.
You were clearly enjoying every second of it.
*
But then something shifted.
Without being told, the wolf slowly sat back on his heels for a moment, looking up at you with something heavy in his eyes. Then, without breaking eye contact, he shifted backward.
He crawled back a metre until there was enough space in between them. Only then did he raise up onto his knees, straightening his back. You sensed him wanting your attention, so you bring your towel up around your waist again and turn around to enjoy the show.
It was time for the wolf’s response. You didn’t think you could do all this teasing and not have a response from the prideful wolf now did you?
His hands moved to the top button of his white shirt. His eyes never leaving yours. The wolf’s fingers worked slowly, deliberately. Undoing one button at a time. When he reached the middle buttons, the shirt fell open wider, exposing the firm lines of his pecs and the defined shape of his chest. He wasn’t overly bulky, but his body was clearly strong — the kind of build that came from discipline rather than show. Sweat from the humid room had dampened the shirt further against his skin in places, making it cling slightly.
The wolf kept going, undressing slower now. When he reached the final buttons, he paused. His eyes stayed locked on yours as he finished unbuttoning the shirt completely. He shrugged it off his shoulders and let it fall behind him, leaving his upper body bare.
Then he lifted his right hand and cupped his right pec. His fingers brushed over the right side of his chest before gently pinching the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He held it there for a second and closed his eyes. He leaned back as if to steady himself. It was still sensitive to touch. He slowly pulled his fingers away to reveal what he was hiding.
A silver barbell. Right through the right nipple.
It sat horizontally. The metal was simple, clean, but the surrounding flesh told a different story. Even months later, the piercing still hadn’t fully settled. It would take months to heal he was told. The pink skin around the barbell was still slightly puffy, the tiny entry and exit points not completely closed. It looked sensitive — tender in a way that suggested it still reacted to touch, to friction, and especially to attention.
The wolf stuck his chest out proudly, allowing you see it fully.
The air in the room changed.
Your cock, which had been half-hard under the towel, thickened noticeably. The head flushed darker as blood rushed south. Your jaw tightened for a moment, and your eyes stayed fixed on that single silver barbell like it was the only thing left in the room.
The man’s voice came out quiet, almost rough.
“I got it after you won the last one. And became the youngest man to ever do it.” His thumb brushed lightly over the barbell and his body jerked involuntarily. It was so hot seeing the way the pink flesh responded — puffy and still sensitive.
“No one else has touched it,” the Wolf said, “I didn’t want them to.”
You stared.
The sight of that piercing — a permanent marking on the wolf’s body, done in dedication to him — hit harder than he had expected. It wasn’t just submission. It was devotion. Ownership. Possession. The concept of such a sexual part of the wolf’s body belonging to you and only you. It was beyond hot; it was nuclear.
Your cock gave another heavy throb, fully hard now under the towel. Skin retracted you’re so turned on. You needed to know what it felt like underneath your fingers. Your voice came out lower than before, rougher.
“Come here.”
The wolf didn’t crawl this time. He rose to his feet slowly, keeping his eyes on you as he stepped forward. When he got close enough, your reached out and ran two fingers lightly over the pierced nipple, feeling the warmth of his skin and the cool metal of the barbell.
So, this was to be the first point of contact.
The tingling sensation from your touch on his pierced nipple was simply too much for the wolf because without warning his entire body convulsed involuntarily, as if his spirit was trying to jump out of his body. It was intense. A current of electrical shivers radiated up and down his body from this one place held in between your fingers. All the pleasure centres were lighting up. And he couldn’t control himself.
You didn’t push any further. You let the moment hold. You loved this. The way you had so much control over his entire body in this moment. As if the wolf’s pleasure belonged to you and you are alone. Because in many ways it did. Your eyes, start look like the wolf’s. All focused and fixed.
The wolf’s eyes roll back, and it drives you insane. He can’t help it; the feeling is too intense. You lean into his ear just to fuck with him some more.
“All of this just from my touch?” You say with a lowered voice, intimate, only meant for the wolf’s ears. You continue teasing his nipple between your fingers, “Just imagine what would happen if I slid my cock inside you right now?” The wolf moaned and tilted his head back, exposing his neck, you can smell his arousal: “I bet you wouldn’t even fight me.” You coo into his ear as he shakes again at your words, “I bet I could take you raw right now if I wanted to.” He said so cocky and reassured: “You’re probably so turned on right now that you don’t even need lube.”
You start rubbing now, feeling the slight puffiness, the sensitivity that still lingered. The wolf moaned loudly. You place your other hand on his mouth, shutting him up. He’s chasing your fingers on his body now. You’ve given him a little and now he wants the whole lot.
It makes you feel so powerful to hold his pleasure in this way. And he loved giving it to you. Making you feel like the only man in the Universe he wanted to give it all to. The submission was so intoxicating for your ego. And the wolf knew it, which is why he blew fire into it every chance he could get.
Then you spoke again, voice quiet but in total control.
“You marked yourself for me.”
It wasn’t a question. You looked down at him, cock now fully hard and heavy between them, and spoke with dark satisfaction.
“On your knees again.”
The wolf sank back down without hesitation.
*
It was slow. Deliberate. The sound of his palms and knees on the tile again was soft but unmistakable. He closed the space between you again. You watched every movement: the way the wolf’s shoulders rolled, his head staying slightly lowered. He crawled until he was close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your legs.
When the wolf reached you, he stopped, still on all fours, face level with your towel-covered cock.
You didn’t move.
You simply looked down at him. Domineering and smug.
The wolf’s eyes were fixed on the towel. He looked up at your face. And then back down at your cock. He was hypnotised. The way the towel fabric clung to the heavy shape beneath it. You stand there looking like a sex god. Built for fucking and destroying hole. The pubic hair on your naval trail downward in the most inviting way.
The wolf spent many late nights alone in his bed, jerking off imagining what your cock looked and smelled like. Here it is now in front of him, with nothing but a piece of fabric hiding it. With the added gut punch smell of machismo after so much strenuous activity. It was so charged the way water clung to your skin in places the towel hadn’t quite dried yet.
You see his desperation and reach down and slowly, deliberately, loosening the knot of the towel. You didn’t let it fall yet. You wanted to torture him a bit more.
You lift your leg onto the locker bench once move letting the wolf see the shape of what was underneath — showing off the thick line of cock resting against your thigh as it dangled there in front of him. Oh my god, what a beautiful teasing sight. The heavy weight of your cock hanging so obscenely through the fabric. Ripe and ready, like froot.
“You’ve been thinking about this,” you teased some more. “Haven’t you?”
It was so true, the wolf couldn’t lie. He had dreamt about what your Spanish bull cock looked like. Every time it bounced in your shorts on the court, it looked so inviting. He liked to lay in his bed at night and imagined the colour of it. He predicted your shaft slightly darker than the rest of your body, with the tip of your cock a cherry blossom pink hue. Uncut like almost all Spaniards are. With a fragrant juicy knobhead. This organ, it’s where you get all your strength and power from. You fucking big cock hanging right there in front of him.
He wondered if you shaved. And hoped that you didn’t. His ideal was a big hairy dick. Nothing too crazy but just enough to trap the hair with more smell. The wolf’s mouth watered as he thought of that young machismo testosterone stench baked into your thigh crease. He jerked off many nights imagining what your personal brand would smell like. And now his wildest dreams were coming true.
“You’ve been waiting so long for this day,” he asked. “Haven’t you?”
The wolf did not answer with words. He simply leaned forward and pressed his face against the towel, right over your cock, breathing in deeply through the damp fabric. His hands came up to grip the back of your thighs, fingers digging in and drawing the crotch deeper to his face.
You let him stay there for a moment, feeling the heat of his breath through the towel, feeling the way your cock was stiff under the attention.
You reached down, gripped the wolf’s hair again, and pulled his head back enough just to look into his eyes.
“Not yet,” you said.
You let the towel fall.
And it dropped to the floor between them.
The wolf-maintained eye contact with you. Trying so hard not to rush the moment but making it felt. He was almost afraid to look down. Because then the dream would become real. When he eventually lowered his eyes to see your fine specimen of manhood, he gasped.
Thick. Veined. Juicy. Those were the first words that popped into the wolf’s head when he saw your cock for the first time. The shaft a warm golden-tan colour that caught the low light like polished wood. He couldn’t see the full tip yet because the foreskin was covering it. But my god it was beautiful the way the skin protected the sensitive tip, hiding the fleshy, glistening head beneath. My god it was beautiful. The way your foreskin bunched around the head so complimentary. It was perfect.
The cock possessed a punishing upward curve and stood so strong and rigid. Prideful and honourable. This was a cock of great integrity that bowed down for nobody. Oh my god with a fat flared mushroom head, still partially covered with skin. Wow! The wolf wanted so badly to get fucked senseless by your manhood. For you to turn his tight wrinkled wolf hole into a big gaping O. And with the way it looked so fat and juicy, like a meaty steak, it wouldn’t be difficult for you to open him up. He’d spread his legs open for you right now like butter. And on this thought, a single clear bead of precum welled at your piss slit.
It looked like the first slow drop of molten wax from a lit candle. It clung there for a long second, trembling, then began its slow, inevitable descent down the underside of the head, tracing a shining path along your shaft.
The wolf stared like he was looking at something sacred.
Drip.
Another bead formed almost immediately, gathering at the tip before it too started its unhurried journey downward, catching in the dark hair at the base of your cock and leaving a thin, glistening trail behind it like a snail.
It wasn’t a pretty cock, it was a mean looking cock, which is exactly what the wolf desired. He wanted a cock that looked like it could do some serious damage to his prostate, which is exactly what he was staring at: a big Spanish bull cock with so much aura.
The wolf’s mouth had gone dry. His pulse was loud in his ears. He could almost hear the low, steady drip… drip… in the silence between you.
You didn’t move. You didn’t speak. You simply stood there, letting him look. Letting him see what you had just unveiled. What he had imagined and jerked off to for so long, now real and right in front of him — thick, uncut, bushy at the root, and already beginning to drip like warm wax offered on an altar.
The wolf stared like he was looking at something holy. Something made to be worshiped slowly. Something he desired to mark his own body with forever. Something that he knew could destroy him on every level if he got too close. Something he ached for deep inside of him, to be enmeshed with you permanently, where the two of you would become one.
You stepped forward until the head of your weeping cock brushed against the wolf’s lips.
“Open.”
The wolf looked up at you, lips parted obediently, pink tongue out and ready.
You lean into another unpredictable moment only you can do. Instead of feeding him your cock, you reach down unexpectedly and pick up the wolf’s tie up off the floor. You wrap it around your wrist like a weapon, looking down at him darkly, almost sadistically. His eyes met yours and you can almost see the excitement beating through the pulse of his neck. You place the tie around his throat and neck him like a dog on a collar.
Before the wolf even had a chance to respond, you place one leg back on the locker bench and shuffle slightly for balance. Once stable, you pull his tie like a dog on a leash, pulling his face forward until his nose was pressed tightly against the base of your cock and balls.
“Is it what you want?” You asked softly, almost teasingly. “Smell the real thing. I know you’ve been waiting.”
This cocky talk from you drives the wolf insane. The masculine drip of your hot Murcian accent filled his ears. Thick like honey as the words rolled of your tongue so sexy. He inhales you deeply, eyes fluttering shut. As if closing his eyes will etch the smell in his brain for longer. Apart from your ass, he’d never smelled anything so stimulating in his life. His hands came up but this time wrapped around your ass to draw you in closer. He always held, never gripped or pushed. He knew you had the control. And he wanted you to feel the totality of it.
You respond to his arm placement by pulling the leash in tighter.
“That’s it,” you say. “Do you like that? Getting a good nose full of my balls.”
The wolf nodded with his nose buried in your thigh crease. It hit the back of his throat and settled low in his belly like communion wine. He brushed the damp hair at the root of your cock as he breathed it in again, deeper this time, chasing the layers. Clean soap. Faint and citrusy from whatever you used in the shower. And underneath it all: that thick, sacred, masculine core that was purely you. Spanish. Victorious. Machismo. And unapologetically male.
It was the perfect smelling cock.
The wolf didn’t speak. He simply stayed there, face pressed close, inhaling like a man who had finally been allowed inside the sanctuary.
You kept him there, face buried against your cock and balls, breathing it in while the towel lay forgotten on the floor behind them.
*
You decide it’s time to put on a show for the wolf.
With your free hand you wrap your fingers around the base of your cock. You give it one lazy stroke, pulling the foreskin forward so it bunched loosely over the head. Then suddenly without warning you let it slide back just enough to expose half of the glans to the air. Not the full thing yet. There was no need to rush. The movement deliberate. Unhurried.
The wolf’s face was still buried but his eyes flicked up, watching.
You did it again — slowly, almost lazy — letting the loose skin glide over the sensitive head. A bead of precum welled at the slit and caught on the inner side of the foreskin as you pulled it forward again. Wow! The wolf’s breathing grew heavier against your balls. He was so excited watching the show.
“You like that?” You asked quietly. Voice dripping in broken English, rougher. “Watching it moves?”
The wolf smiled and nodded against your skin, the action small and eager.
You tightened the grip on the tie and pulled his head back just far enough that he could see everything, your full cock, properly.
“Look at it,” you ordered. “Don’t touch. Just look.”
The wolf obeyed, eyes locked on your cock as you slowly worked the foreskin back and forth repeatedly. Hypnotic with the way it moved. When you pulled it forward, the loose skin forming a soft, wrinkled hood. He was helplessly Dickmatized by your cock’s moves. When you eased it back, the sensitive ridge emerged, pink, flushed and glistening. This time the pull back was different.
You pulled the foreskin back fully, the whole glans now fully exposed to the air. The rich scent of Spanish bull cock bloomed in the wolf’s face. He moaned loudly into your balls as his eyes widened at the exposure of your cock head. Pink and perfect. You stand there legs spread, holding yourself open for him to take in fully.
It’s such an explicit sight to behold. Your cock on full display now, foreskin fully retracted, head exposed in the hot and humid locker room air, dripping precum like a candle in church.
You smirked.
“You want to taste it, don’t you?”
The wolf nodded again, more desperate this time.
You let go of your cock and instead grip both hands on the tie, using it to guide his face forward until his lips brushed against the heavy sac beneath your cock.
“Start here,” you command. “Lick my balls. Slow. And keep your eyes on my cock the whole time.”
The wolf leaned in and dragged his tongue across your balls in one long, wet stroke. The heat of his mouth made your cock twitch. You keep stroking yourself lazily above his face, rolling the skin back and forth while he licked and sucked your balls with careful, devoted attention.
This was the wolf’s first time getting to touch you. And his hunger is felt.
Every now and then, you pulled the foreskin all the way back again, exposing the entire head once more — flushed, blooming, fragrant — just to hear the soft, desperate sound the wolf made in the back of his throat. Then you would roll it forward again, hiding it, denying him the full view and smell. Keeping full control of the moment.
The wolf’s tongue would stutter against your balls, like he was losing focus.
*
Eventually, you tightened your grip on the tie and pulled the wolf’s head back up until his lips were hovering just in front of the head of your cock. The skin was pulled back, the sensitive ridge exposed, glistening with precum.
You looked down at him, eyes dark.
“Stick your tongue out.”
The wolf did so.
You slowly dragged the head of your cock across the wolf’s outstretched tongue — just the underside, where the foreskin was still partially covering the most sensitive part. You still didn’t push in yet. Just hovering it there and letting him feel the weight and heat of it, letting him taste the salt of your precum. You placed it on his tongue in a way that made it look like he was a dog with a bone in his mouth. But instead of a bone, it’s your cock.
The wolf’s eyes fluttered. A low, desperate sound escaped him.
You smiled, slow and satisfied.
“Not yet,” you said again, voice low and dark. “You’re going to earn every inch of this cock. And you’re going to start by cleaning up the mess you’re making with that tongue.”
You dragged the head of your cock across the wolf’s tongue once more, smearing more precum all over it. His saliva is thick and desperate, clinging to your cock. The cum and saliva forming a sticky bond. Both fluids connecting to his mouth every time you lift your cock off his tongue.
You’re having fun with it now, slapping your cock on his tongue. The actions are somewhat degrading but that’s what made them both so horny. The wolf’s willingness to degrade himself just to taste your cock.
The wolf stayed there on his knees, mouth open, tongue still out like a bitch in heat, staring at your cock like it was the only thing in the world.
You run your thumb along his bottom lip, wiping away a thin string of spit and precum.
“Good,” you murmured. “Now… beg me to let you taste it properly.”
*
“Beg properly,” you say, voice low and calm. “I want to hear it.”
The wolf’s throat worked as he swallowed. His voice came out hoarse.
“Please… let me taste it.”
Your tilt your head, pretending to consider it. Slowly stroking yourself once more.
“Not good enough,” you murmured. “Try again.”
The wolf knew it was time to up the ante. If you could improvise with his very own tie to debase him, then he would return the favour. He stepped back from you slowly. His eyes glossy and wrecked. He was totally enraptured by the moment.
The wolf rocked back on his heels without being told. His hands moved to his belt with shaky but deliberate fingers. The soft clink of the buckle echoed in the quiet room as he unfastened it. He didn’t rush. He didn’t strip either. He simply pulled the crotch of his trousers open and pulled the pouch of his undies down just enough to free his own hard cock — flushed, leaking, straining upward.
Then his eyes flicked to the bench.
Your discarded sock lay there — thick, still slightly damp, carrying that deep, pungent imprint of a champion’s foot after hours on the court. The toe section was visibly darkened from sweat and use. The wolf reached for it like it was something sacred.
He picked it up slowly, bringing it to his face for a moment. Your cock twitched hard in the open air, a thick bead of precum dripping from the tip again in anticipation.
You watched, cock throbbing, saying nothing.
The wolf opened his eyes and looked up at you with raw, open devotion. He didn’t know what came over him. This was something he’d never do for anybody else ever. But you turn him on so much that he wants to push boundaries. Test limits. Then, with slow, reverent movements, he stretched the damp sock open and slid it over his own leaking cock.
The filthy toe section — the part that had been crushed against your foot for hours — enveloped his swollen head like a second skin. The man let out a shaky moan as the warm, sweat-soaked fabric gripped him, the deep, animal scent of your sweaty sole now wrapped tight around the most sensitive part of him. He adjusted it carefully, making sure the toe box was pressed right against his leaking slit, the same place that had been soaked with sweat and now his own precum.
The sight was obscene and intimate.
The wolf in his expensive suit trousers, shirtless with his pierced nipple out, the one he got in your honour, on his knees, with your used sock stretched obscenely over his cock like a filthy trophy.
He looked up at you, eyes glassy, breathing ragged, clearly overwhelmed by his own act of devotion.
You stared down at him, cock twitching hard at the filthy visual. Your voice came out low and dark, thick with satisfaction.
“Look at you,” he murmured. “Wearing my dirty sock on your cock like it’s the most natural thing in the world. You really are filthy, aren’t you?”
The wolf nodded slowly, the movement almost shy, but his eyes were burning with need. The sock was already darkening further at the tip from how much he was leaking into it.
You closed the space between him and reached down, running your fingers through the man’s hair, almost gently.
“Good,” he said softly. “Now… come here. I want to hear you beg to taste it.”
The wolf looked up so starved. “Please… I need to taste you,” the wolf begs, “I’ve been thinking about it for so long. Please let me taste it.”
You hum, like you’re still deciding. Then, very slowly, you pulled the foreskin back one more time. So casual. The effect was immediate.
A broken, desperate sound tore from his throat as he instinctively leaned forward, trying to get closer to it. The smell was overwhelming in its rawness — the concentrated essence of your body, the part of yourself that had stayed hidden and sweaty beneath the skin all day. It was filthy and intimate and deeply masculine, and it made the You visibly unravel. His cock visibly throbbed while wrapped in your sock, a damp spot already forming at the front.
You watched the reaction with dark satisfaction.
“There it is,” you said quietly, almost amused. “The smell hit you hard that time, didn’t it?”
The wolf nodded, almost frantic, eyes glassy as he stared at the now-exposed head. Another bead of precum had gathered at the slit and was slowly dripping down the underside.
You kept the foreskin pulled back, holding yourself fully exposed.
“Smell it again,” he ordered. “Don’t lick. Just breathe it in.”
The wolf obeyed immediately, leaning in until his nose was nearly touching the head. He inhaled deeply, and the effect was instant — his whole body shuddered, a low moan slipping out as the thick, primal scent filled his senses.
Your voice dropped even lower, teasing and cruel in its softness.
“Does it smell like what you imagined? Or is it filthier than you thought?”
The wolf’s answer came out shaky and honest.
“Filthier… fuck, it’s so strong. It’s driving me crazy.”
You smirked, clearly enjoying yourself. You give your cock one slow stroke, smearing the fresh precum over the head with your thumb while the wolf watches, transfixed. The way you just play with it in front of him.
“You have a choice” you say, “You can either suck my cock or eat my ass. Which one will it be?”
The wolf wanted your ass. Yes, the cock is beautiful and one day he knew he’d devour it, but the mood of this locker room exchange called for ass eating. It just felt dirtier and appropriate.
“Ass.” The wolf whispered.
“Good,” you smiled, slow and satisfied. You liked his decisiveness. You turn once more and pop your leg up to get into position. You look back at him and smile, “Go on then,” your murmured. “Since you’ve been so good.”
The man leaned in like he’d been given permission to breathe again.
He didn’t go straight for the skin.
Instead, he pressed his lips gently against the fine, dark hairs first. The contact was dry at first — just the soft brush of hair against his mouth. He stayed there for a second, almost reverent, letting the texture of it register. Then he parted his lips and let his tongue come out, slow and careful.
The first touch of his tongue against those hairs was deliberate. He licked them slowly, feeling how they were still slightly coarse and damp from the shower, carrying that concentrated, masculine scent.
For a moment, it was just hair and tongue — no skin yet. The wolf moaned quietly at the sensation, like even this small, specific detail was enough to undo him. He knew what came next. He knew once he moved past the hairs and reached the actual skin, everything was going to get wet and messy. The thought excited him even more.
He licked the hairs again, slower this time, almost savouring the last moment before it all changed. Then, finally, he let his tongue slide forward and contact the warm, sensitive skin of your puckered pink hole.
The difference was immediate.
The hairs had been dry and textured. His tongue flattened and dragged slowly over the tight, wrinkled entrance, tasting him properly for the first time. The skin beneath was softer, hotter, and carried a deeper, more intimate taste. The wolf moaned into it, louder this time, the sound muffled as he pressed his face closer. The wet heat of his mouth made everything slick almost instantly.
You let out a low, rough breath, fingers tightening on your own ass cheeks.
The wolf was quickly lost in it already. He licked again, broader this time, dragging his tongue from the bottom of your hole all the way to the top, tasting every crevice. The sounds were wet and filthy now — soft, eager laps mixed with quiet, desperate moans. He wasn’t rushing. He was exploring. As if mapping the shape and texture of your hole with his tongue, like he wanted to remember every detail.
You glanced back at him and the vision is exquisite: his fat nose disappeared between your ass crack. Eyes closed in bliss as he eats you out from behind. You speak, voice low and rough with amusement and arousal.
“You really like that, don’t you?”
His tongue dragged slowly up the crease again, but this time there was no hesitation. It was broader, wetter, and more confident. He licked pressing the flat of his tongue firmly against your tight ring. The first real, hungry lap teasing the inside made your breath catch.
“Fuck… yeah, just like that,” you murmured, voice low and rough. “Don’t be shy. Get your face in there.”
The wolf obeyed. He pushed his face deeper between your cheeks, nose pressed tight against you now, and started licking with slow, deliberate strokes. His tongue circled the rim, tracing the texture, then stiffened. With a mixture of a flat tongue and suction, the wolf tried to push inside.
The wet heat was intense. You could feel every movement: the way the man’s tongue pressed and licked, the way his lips sealed around the sensitive skin, suctioning pressure from the middle of his tongue, trying to coax it apart gently.
The sounds were filthy and getting messier by the second.
Spit was already dripping. The wolf was eating with such enthusiasm that saliva ran down his chin in slick strands. Every broad stroke of his tongue left more wetness behind, making everything shiny and sloppy. His face was starting to glisten — cheeks, nose, and chin already wet with his own spit as he buried himself deeper inside you, smothering his mouth and nose completely between those powerful cheeks.
You let out a low groan, hips rolling back slightly.
“Look at you,” you said, voice dark and horny, “Such a proper man in that nice suit, and now your face is getting absolutely fucking filthy eating my ass. You like that, don’t you? Getting your expensive clothes all messy for me.”
The wolf moaned loudly in response, the vibration shooting straight through your core. He responded to your dirty talk by pushing his face in even harder into your paradise, tongue thrusting deeper, trying to lick inside the tight ring with sloppy, eager strokes.
More spit dripped down. It was getting raunchier — wet, obscene slurping sounds filling the locker room as the wolf devoured you without restraint. Your cheeks were fully shiny now, slick from his mouth. A few thin strings of spit connected his lower lip to your hole every time he pulled back for air before diving in again.
You reached back with one hand, gripping the man’s tie like a leash once more, and pull him in tighter.
“Deeper,” you growled. “Get your tongue all the way in there. I want to feel you fucking me with it.”
The wolf whimpered and did exactly that. Stiffened his broad tongue and pushed inside, leading with a large surface area to attack the hole. His hungry fat surface area tongue strokes were undeniable now — the man’s lips were swollen, his face looked wrecked — flushed, wet, completely debased by your ass.
You groaned, rolling your hips back to meet the wolf’s mouth.
“Fuck, you’re making such a mess back there,” you said, voice rough with pleasure. “Look at you. Tie on, my sock on your cock, pierce nipple out, face in my ass, you desperate little slut. How does it feel? Does my Spanish ass taste as good as you imagined?”
The wolf – so lost in it – could only moan in response, the sound muffled and filthy as he kept eating, tongue working deeper, getting sloppier with every passing second. His hands gripped your ass cheeks hard, pulling them wider, as if he wanted to see the full rim displayed.
Your cock was rock-hard and leaking steady. You reach down and stroke yourself slowly while the wolf continues eating you out, the wet sounds growing louder and louder.
He glanced back again, smirking.
“Good boy,” he said, voice dark with approval. “Keep eating. I want to feel how much you love this.”
But something was changing.
Your tight, wrinkled ring that had started so resistant was beginning to soften under the wolf’s eager mouth. What had started shrivelled and tight like a small raisin was slowly relaxing, becoming smoother, plumper, almost buttery. Finally yielding under the constant assault of his fat tongue.
Each thrust of the wolf’s tongue made the entrance yield more, the delicate folds opening, becoming wetter and wetter. The wolf detached to see, your hole now so slick, soft and inviting. The texture shift was noticeable — from firm resistance to a warm, silky give that made your breath catch.
The wolf moaned loudly into your ass, the sound vibrating deep inside you, and the give inspired him to fully double down with even more enthusiasm. His tongue fucked you in and out of your newly loose hole with filthy, passionate strokes, clearly loving how it had finally opened for him.
You groaned low, rolling his hips back against the man’s face, chasing the tongue deeper.
“Fuck… feel that?” you murmured, voice rough, looking back at the wolf. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”
The wolf connected eyes with you and whimpered in response as he ate with unrestrained devotion. He knew instinctively that they were at an apex. It was time to either make you cum or to escalate to new heights. The wolf did calculations in his brain rapidly while he was tongue deep and smothered in your ass. How could he escalate?
Experience taught him that he could easily slip a finger inside you now. Your hole on his tongue was telling him you’re ready. And he knew you were horny enough at this very moment to take it. Mmmm. Your hole so loose and welcoming. But no. He didn’t. No. He stayed with his tongue, savouring the moment. This was not a moment to break into new territory. No sirree. This was a moment of intense worship. It’s important to recognise what the moment calls for and this one was simple: to be present in the moment and enjoy the way your ass. Not trying to be greedy and gain more but making this experience all about you and your pleasure, not your claim.
Honestly, it was probably just an extreme turn on for the wolf to know he could claim you now. This is enough for him. Just to know. And holding that knowledge on his tongue with your slick ass juices? It was enough. This moment was about making you feel like a total sex god.
Yet still, the wolf needed to find a way to escalate. To leave his mark. An impression on you. Something you’d think about for years, nay decades, to come. When late and alone and horny and seeking your lifelong moments of pleasure to masturbate to, he wants this moment to be one of them. Then it came to him.
The wolf stopped and looked at your fucking perfect hole. He had worked so hard, he had not yet taken a moment to enjoy it. The visual that is. Your perfect pink pucker, all smooth without a wrinkle in sight to see. Yes, the skin was slightly darker but barely and not in an offensive way. And he loved it because the contrast made the walls inside your ring glow even pinker. The dark hair around it exaggerates this contrast also.
All wet and matted from a mixture of your sweat, his spit, and whatever else existed in between. This was a sight the wolf knew deep down he’d call upon late at night to jerk off to until the rest of his life. This visual right now of your once puckered hole now completely smoothed over and pinkish. This was when he realized. He looked up at you and thought to himself: what can you see?
You kept looking back at it. The wolf’s big bunga nose disappearing between your ass crack. At first, he thought you kept looking back at it because you liked the way it looks. Yes, this is true. But it is deeper than this. You’re getting off on the acquiescing of his power to you. This is what you liked. So how could he increase the visual of himself acquiescing his power to you? He had an idea.
“Can I make a request?” The wolf asked politely, as if asking you to pass the salt across the dining room table.
“What do you want?” you asked.
The wolf looked at you directly in the eye when he said: “Sit on my face,” not a question but a command.
You look back at it one final time and take a mental snapshot. The wolf looked so handsome here. His charming megawatt smile and the spark in his eyes made him so wholesome back there between your ass cheeks. You knew the positions were about to change but you wanted to remember this image. Of a beautiful handsome man with a strong nose disappearing behind your ass crack.
The wolf slapped your ass playfully. It didn’t hurt. He knew how to hit it in a way that made the noise sound loud but the touch itself was soft. What an experienced lover he is, this wolf. He knows how to do everything. He stands and lays himself flat on the locker room bench. The visual is outstanding.
This big burly wolf, so strong and full of muscle, laying himself down for you to sit on his face. He looks up at you and beckons you closer. You oblige him and close the space in between. You stand at the side of the bench and just stare, taking in the visual.
The horny wolf is on his back looking up at you: shirt off and tits out, the nipple piercing he got in your honour on full display. His dress pants were funnily enough still on, but you liked it. The fly of the pants is open, the underwear pulled down and your filthy used sweaty sock is on his cock. And his face looked so inviting and ready to be sat on.
You take the few steps forward and stand over him.
The visual hits you hard.
The wolf is laid out on the bench like an offering — big, strong body stretched out, shirtless, the silver barbell in his right nipple catching the light. His dress pants are still on but undone, underwear pulled down just enough, and your filthy, sweat-soaked sock is stretched tight over his cock. His face is flushed, lips shiny from eating your ass, eyes looking up at you with a mix of hunger and calm surrender.
You swing one leg over the bench and lower yourself.
The moment your ass makes contact with his face, and something shifts in the room.
You settle yourself down slowly and make yourself at home. Letting the full weight press onto him. His face disappears underneath your cheeks, and his mouth is immediately smothered by your hole. You feel his hot breath against you, then the wet press of his tongue as he starts eating again without hesitation.
You let out a low groan and roll your hips once, grinding down onto the wolf’s face.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” you say, voice rough and thick with arousal. “To use that handsome face as a seat for my ass.”
A muffled, desperate sound vibrates against your hole. You feel the wolf’s hands come up to grip your thighs, not pushing you off — but pulling you down even harder. As if he wanted his hole face inside you.
You grind again, slower this time, letting him feel every inch of your newly loose buttery hole.
“This is fun,” you say cheekily, rolling your hips in a slow circle.
The words come out muffled, broken, and completely sincere against your skin.
“I love it… fuck, ‘litos… I love it so much.”
Every now and then for your own amusement, you lift just enough to let the wolf gasp for air before smacking back down on him again with your ass. It was so satisfying, grinding your hole against his tongue. Just being slutty on top of your wolf. Making yourself feel like a king on a throne that is this handsome man’s face.
The wolf choosing to be nothing but a mouth for you to use. Choosing to stay in that suit, choosing to keep the sock on, choosing to let you sit on his face like he was just a thing to be used.
There’s a deep satisfaction in you knowing that every time the wolf goes to speak to somebody, with that mouth of his, you imagine this exact moment right here. That mouth the wolf uses every day to eat with, command the room, breathe, debate, coach, teach, compliment – all of those things, it’s devouring you. Every time you see a picture of him on your phone, that mouth smiling wolfishly at the camera, you think of where his mouth has been. Deeply inside you.
Eventually, you feel it — that deep, building pressure low in your gut. You’re getting close.
You look down at him.
“I’m ready to cum now,” you say, voice low and direct. “And you’re going to make it happen.”
You’re right there. Your breathing is ragged now. Your cock is throbbing violently in your own hand, the head swollen and hypersensitive. The scent coming off you is thick and heady — pure, concentrated arousal.
The wolf feels it. He pulls back just enough to drag his tongue slowly over your entire hole one last time, then sinks all the way down and flattens his tongue trying to get as much surface area as possible: preparing to feel your orgasm on his tongue, knowing that he is fully responsible for it. He digs deepest one final time, knowing this is his moment to take what’s his.
That’s what breaks you.
Your orgasm hits like a freight train.
Your whole body locks up as the first thick rope shoots over his body. You cum hard — long, powerful pulses that make your thighs shake and your abs clench. The wolf doesn’t stop. In fact, he doubles down and engages every fabric of his being to feel your orgasm on his tongue. He is successful. He’s feeling the pulses of your climax wrapped around his tongue, as if your ass was milking his tongue, trying to pull it in deeper.
You’re still cumming when he eases back to see the movement.
It winks as him, your asshole, as you’re still cumming.
The wolf reaches down, pulls the filthy sock off his own cock. The sudden bursting release of that trapped, filthy scent hit them both: a heavy mix of your foot sweat and his own precum. The smell was sharp and primal. It made the wolf’s cock jump hard in his fist.
It doesn’t even look like a normal orgasm at first. The first ropes of cum spray out like a garden sprinkler. He hasn’t even started to cum properly yet — this was just pure overflow from how turned on he was by the moment. When the excess sperm was pushed out, only then did his orgasm start.
And when the wolf’s orgasm did start, the garden sprinkler turned into a powerful jet, and his cum arced up and hit you on the thigh. Splat. Landing on you with heaviness. Wow! You did not expect this. You grin satisfied at him marking you. You don’t mind it. In fact, you think you might like it. And this is what sent him over the edge: your exploratory pleasure.
The orgasm hits for real this time. It is a sight to behold.
The wolf came violently.
Thick, heavy ropes of cum sprayed out of him in powerful, messy jets. Some of it hit his own chest and stomach, but a few more strong spurts actually reached you, with more landing on your thigh and hip.
The volume was obscene — long, thick ropes that just kept coming and coming, covering the wolf’s torso in a shiny, pearly mess. He kept stroking through it, hips jerking, moaning loudly into your ass as he emptied himself. Still eating you out even while cumming. It was crazy.
When it finally started to slow, the wolf was a wreck. His entire chest, stomach, and even parts of his neck were streaked and splattered with thick cum. The discarded sock lay beside him on the bench, inside-out and glistening. His cock was still twitching in his hand, a few last weak spurts leaking out over his fingers.
You stayed on his face for a moment longer, breathing hard, feeling the wolf’s tongue give one last slow, tired lick against your hole.
Then you lifted off.
You looked down at the man beneath him — powerful, suited from the waist down, shirtless and marked, completely covered in his own cum, face shiny and wrecked from eating ass. The silver barbell in his nipple was still visible through the mess.
The wolf looked up at him, chest heaving, eyes glassy but focused.
You didn’t say anything at first. You just stared at the sight in front of you: the discarded sock, the insane amount of cum, the way he was still lying there like he’d been completely used up.
Then the wolf moved.
Still breathing hard, he reached down with two fingers and scooped up some of the cum from his own stomach — a mixture of his own release and yours. Without breaking eye contact with you, he brought his fingers up to his still healing and puffy pierced nipple.
Your eyes narrowed slightly.
The wolf rubbed the cum directly over the barbell, then pressed his fingers against the small hole on one side. Pushing gently, almost tenderly, but deliberately, working the thick cum mixture into the piercing hole.
Wow! You are in awe of what he is doing. He wants your sperm inside of him. Sinking into his lymph system. Settling in his bloodstream. Carrying the essence of your being around with him everywhere he goes.
Some of it disappeared inside. The wolf’s breath hitched at the sensation. It hurt still, so puffy and tender, but he didn’t stop. He kept rubbing, pushing more of the mixed cum into the small opening, wanting it to travel deeper.
You watched, something dark and possessive flickering across your face. This wolf is a freak, and he’s awakened something in you. This was only the beginning. You knew it. You could feel it. The stirring feeling inside. This wolf? He would be the one you’d discover your pleasure with. You wanted to explore your sexuality with him. You couldn’t explain it, but his body had a command over you.
The wolf’s wide charming smile is disarming. The kind you wanted to get nasty with at night but then cuddling you the next morning. You couldn’t describe it. But you felt like you finally met someone you could feel safe enough with to explore your dark twisted fantasy with.
And you knew he’d keep it a secret.
