tagNonHumanRiding the Wolf

Riding the Wolf

byLaSalia©

WARNING: This story contains graphic scenes of non consent and bestiality by a werewolf which may be disturbing to some readers. Reader discretion is advised.

Rosita Hood stood staring at her reflection in the mirror. She had rushed through her morning routine, cleaning up her mother's, and guest's, mess from the night before, as well as putting the oven on warm to heat the muffins she would be bringing to her grandmother. She remembered the sight of her mother, sprawled on the thick rug in front of the television, while a man in his twenties sat on the couch, rubbing his stubble of a beard. He leered at her when he saw her. The age difference between him and her mother was probably the same as between him and herself.

Gina was a second generation single mother, knocked up at 16, making her look more like a sister to her offspring than a mother. When Rosita had passed her sweet 16 with her virginity intact, she had sent a prayer to St. Agnes in thanks. Like the Saint, Rosita was a beauty, and had been chased by boys and men alike since she began to grow breasts at the age of 12. Her long, midnight black hair fell in waves across her caramel colored skin, framing rich chocolate eyes and a pair of wide, rosy lips. High round breasts thrust against even baggy polo shirts, and her firm, heart shaped ass looked good in almost any pants. Unlike the martyr, Rosita didn't plan on remaining a virgin forever, but she at least wanted to finish high school, perhaps even college, before she risked everything for some man. So far, she had burned a candle to St. Agnes twice more since that first birthday landmark.

Her experiences with the eager boys in school were not so harsh, but the older men her mother brought home terrified her. She had installed a chain lock on her own door when she was only 14 after one drunk lover had tried to enter her room after Gina passed out from too much beer, leaving her "date" unsatisfied. Rosita had barely slipped through her window, his fingers wrapping around her ankles as she dove, but all he got for his trouble was her booted slippers.

Rosita never knew her father. He was supposedly some football champion from high school, but Rosita's grandmother scoffed at that description. Although Gina had always been a beauty, her low self esteem drew her to losers, misfits, and brutal men. Although she had also become pregnant 16, Rosita's abuela had been deeply in love with Rosita's grandfather, Daniel Hood, and they had married. Wanting a better life for his teenage wife and new daughter, Daniel had enlisted in the army. While training, he excelled, and his skills were deemed good enough to earn him a trip to Egypt for Operation Bright Star, following the Camp David Accords. However, he never made it. During a training exercise while en route to Cairo he suffered an unexpected and fatal heart attack. It was so strange for someone so young, and no one had ever been able to give Abuela a good answer as to why she was left widowed at the tender age of 19.

Rosita's grandmother never re-married, her grief was too great. Thanks to the survivors benefits paid out by the US military and a meager life insurance policy, she was able to purchase a small bungalow in a rural neighborhood, backing up to a beautiful wood, with mountain tops peaking in the horizon. The dirt road had many such houses on it, and led to a small town with a school, restaurants and shopping mall. She never even learned to drive, taking a motorized trike with a cart attached behind to do her grocery shopping, and was able to live frugally on their monthly stipend. Gina had hated the place. She was desperate for the big city. The closest had been Stroudsburg, PA, where she was bussed to school. She'd had big dreams of escaping to NY, or maybe just Pittsburgh, but when she got knocked up at 16 by her first high school boyfriend, there was little chance. Abuela had raised her until she was old enough to go to school, and then Gina had suddenly packed all their things and moved into an apartment in the heart of Stroudsburg. Rosita's mother rented the small two bedroom, one bath flat with her earnings as a barista at the mall where she spent most of her time. The bus rode right there, and it was a favorite hang out of the college kids who attended the branch of UPenn.

Since she was old enough to ride a bicycle on her own, Rosita had been braving the 5 mile ride down the mountain road to her grandmother's bungalow. It was better than school, where kids often picked on her because of her slutty mother, or the mall where she might find said mother making out with a college boy in a corner. Eventually, she started staying the night on the weekends, and her mother barely noticed, except that it meant Gina could have overnight guests also, without any interruption. Only when she was at Abuela's house did Rosita feel safe. She would have moved back in with her grandmother, if her mother had allowed it, and Gina and Abuela had gotten into a few fights about how to raise Rosita. But Gina remained stubborn on this one aspect of her life in which she had control: Rosita. She liked having someone to boss around and do the chores she despised. Rosita had also learned early how to dial 911 for help when Gina's boyfriends became too violent. Eventually, Rosita came to feel that she was responsible for her mother, who obviously couldn't take care of herself. But that all changed when Abuela got sick.

In the beginning she kept it hidden, and Rosita might have never found out about her grandmother's illness if she hadn't adored her so much. It was little things at first. Abuela started to lose some of the roundness she had always had, her figure going from plump to merely curvy. Abuela had only just turned 50 and still maintained much of the beauty of her youth. A few of her midnight black hairs had gone gray, but not enough that she had felt the need to dye it. She had merely plucked the few errant strands. Now her hair was turning gray all over, and seemed much thinner than before. She was tired, and becoming forgetful. It scared Rosita, especially since her grandmother lived all alone. Eventually Rosita confronter her, and Abuela confided that she had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. The symptoms Rosita had noticed were all from the chemotherapy treatments she took bi weekly.

Now that Rosita had turned 18, even though she had not yet finished high school, she decided it was time to start spending more days with her grandmother. At first Gina had protested, but there wasn't much she could do about it, besides kick her daughter out of the house completely. Even the few days a week she was home was enough to keep the house from turning into a garbage heap, and whenever Gina was between boyfriends, she liked the company. So Rosita spent every other day and the whole of the weekend with her grandmother, making sure she was never alone for more than 24 hours. Like at home, she cooked and cleaned to take the pressure off of her weakened grandmother, until finally it seemed to be paying off. Abuela was getting stronger, and the doctor had changed her chemo schedule to once a month instead. The mass in her ovaries had shrunk significantly, and they scheduled her for surgery in December. Although that was still several months away, everyone was confident that she would pull through.

Hearing the oven timer beep, Rosita took one last look at her reflection and pulled on her favorite accessory: a red, hand knitted poncho. Abuela had made it for her when Rosita turned 13 and began having problems with boys. The yarn was thick, but the weave was loose, letting in a nice breeze and allowing Rosita to wear it three out of four seasons. The bulky garment covered her luxurious hair, fine chiseled features, and was long enough to hide both her bosom and her shapely derrière. It gave her a sense of security and confidence, and as a result, she wore it nearly everywhere. Steeling herself for her escape, she went into the kitchen and dumped the pan of hot muffins into a basket and poured steaming chai tea into a silver thermos. From the corner of her eye, she could see the young man her mother had brought home approaching her, smiling suggestively as he leaned against the counter. She tried not to look at him, but when she went to leave the kitchen, he moved to block her path.

"And where are you off to, young lady?"

He'd leaned into her, taking a deep breath as he spoke, inhaling her scent. His voice was low, as if he were trying to speak with fatherly concern. No way was he older than twenty five.

"I'm going to my abuela's house, not that it's any of your concern."

Rosita kept her head down. She didn't want to look at him, this man who'd fucked her mother and was now patronizing her, as if it gave him rights to her. He didn't give her much choice, however, placing a finger under her chin and raising her wary gaze to meet his own.

She'd never seen eyes quite like his before. They were so light a brown as to look golden, with a dark brown ring on the outside of the iris. She saw his pupils dilate and his nostrils flare as he brought his face close enough that their breath mingled. She expected to smell beer and cigarettes. He smelled of rum, instead, sweet and tangy. Apparently Gina had broken out the good stuff for this one.

Trying to dart around him, Rosita was again blocked as the man moved to fill the entire doorway. She stood there, clutching her basket and thermos, her anxiety growing. This was no fresh drunk she could out run or outsmart. This man was fresh and rested, and his interest was becoming more and more dangerous by the minute.

"Easy there, chica, I just wanted to be able to tell your mother when she wakes up. We don't need her worried about her little girl, do we?"

Rosita took a step backwards, hoping her small retreat would encourage him to move out of her way. He didn't.

"Can I offer you a ride?"

Rosita shook her head, rambling off excuses and eager to be rid of him.

"No, it's just off of Mountain Road, about five miles. I can be there on my bike in no time." The man put a hand on Rosita's shoulder, squeezing it a little harder than was comfortable, his hand running down the length of her arm before he finally stepped aside to let her pass. He only moved a little bit, forcing her to brush her body against his as she went through the doorway. As she did, he leaned down and whispered.

"Don't forget the flowers."

Rosita thought that was an odd thing to say, but she didn't respond, rushing out of the house and onto her bike. She'd spared her mother a passing glance and saw that Gina was beginning to rouse. As she pedaled down the road, her heart rate slowly began to come down to normal. Cars passed her by, and she found her apprehension return when she thought she saw a familiar vehicle. The car parked nearest to their apartment had been a silver convertible she didn't recognize. Few people in the apartments could afford such a new model car. She figured it had to belong to the man on the couch. But the silver car passed her, and although it was a late model, it was a hardtop, and she sighed with relief.

A few miles down the road she passed an open area with a field of wildflowers. The white and yellow blooms were late, as they were coming into full fall. The young man's words came back to her, and although she didn't really like the idea of taking advice from a stranger, she shrugged and climbed off of her bicycle. It was a good idea. She only spent a few minutes picking the small bouquet of wildflowers, tying them together with a rubber band she kept in her purse. The whole while she pulled the blooms from the dewy grass she kept her eyes on the road, watching for the silver convertible to appear. She felt relieved when she climbed back on her bike and hadn't seen a single vehicle pass by. The rest of the trip she hummed Shinedown's Diamond Eyes and finally felt happy.

Raoul watched the scrumptious little morsel walking out the door. She probably thought that bulky poncho hid her from his gaze, but as she walked, her hips swayed, and he caught tantalizing glimpses of her round little ass. The way her chest strained against the knit fabric gave him a fair hint that her breasts were as well endowed as the mother's. He'd picked this one up trolling the mall, a sexy Latina MILF who was obviously desperate for attention. The woman dressed like a teenager, with tight skinny jeans and a low v-neck sweater that kept sliding up to show her midriff. Unlike a teenager she wore 6 inch stilettos to show off her long, firm legs. She would have been pretty if she didn't look like she had ten pound bags under her eyes, which she'd tried to conceal with too much make up. The cheap jewelry and long hairstyle told him as much as her hungry gaze that there was no one at home waiting for her. He was all too eager to agree to her proposition that she cook him some dinner, even though it was well after 9:00 when they met.

Dinner turned out to be cheese and crackers and a bottle of Captain Morgan's. Raoul didn't mind, since dessert consisted of Gina rubbing the liquid on his stiff cock. She'd licked and sucked him like a pro, swirling her tongue across his balls and shaft until he was ready to burst. Skipping the foreplay, she'd pushed him down on the couch and sunk her hot twat onto his raging boner. It wasn't as tight as he'd hoped, but that just allowed him to cool down enough to play with her mouthwatering tits. The lady had at least that much going for her, the large D cup mounds spilling out of her lacy bra and into his hands. The rich caramel color of her skin was broken by some skimpy tan lines that led to dark pink nipples. He let her ride him, fondling her bouncing breasts as she ground down on his cock, moaning and whispering dirty words like a cheap porno. After a few minutes she started to get a surprised look on her face as it became flushed and her breath came in rapid bursts. He grinned smugly as he realized that she probably didn't have many partners that lasted as long as he had, and she was beginning to actually get into it.

Raoul grabbed her hips and began thrusting up into her body, making her scream in surprise, then in pleasure as his cock rubbed against her slowly tightening cunt. Her tits bounced in rhythm with his pounding and just as she was about to reach her release he stopped moving and held her tightly to his hips. Gina moaned in frustration, but Raoul wouldn't let her move. He waited until she was panting, wiggling, begging him desperately as his cock grew harder and harder inside of her and her pussy walls gripped him tightly. Just as tears started forming in the corners of her eyes he relented, driving into her viciously. By then she was so horny it didn't matter that he was hurting her tender flesh, all she cared was that he kept thrusting his cock into her body. His head fell back and he let out an animal growl as she felt his cum squirt into her desperate pussy. She screamed as she came, but he pulled out swiftly, denying her the satisfaction of squeezing the hot, pulsing meat.

Gina rolled off of him, crashing drunkenly on the floor. She didn't remember drinking quite that much, but the high of orgasm had added to her dizziness and exhaustion. She climbed over to a throw pillow that had been knocked off the couch in her eagerness to fuck the young college boy. Raoul was a god, come down from heaven. He wasn't Latino, but his hair was jet black, like hers, and his rich tan made him darker than most white guys. His eyes weren't brown, exactly, but a strange golden color. She hadn't expected such a warm color to look so cold. But the best thing about Raoul was his body. She could tell just from the way he walked that he was an athlete of some kind. Although she'd started out asking him all kinds of questions, he hadn't wanted to talk about himself. Amazingly, for the first time in her life, a man wanted to hear about her. It was intoxicating and she found herself pouring out her whole life to this sexy stranger, watching the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, and his awesomely buff body as he listened with polite interest. He didn't even bat one of those long dark lashes when she told him about her bitch of a mother who had stolen her bitch of a daughter from her. She told him how her mother thought she was better than her because when she got knocked up, she was in love with a guy who stuck around. Luck. And Rosita thought she was better than Gina because she was still a virgin. But Gina knew better. She'd caught Rosita masturbating in the shower once, and knew her daughter was plagued by the same lusts as her mother. Rosita just couldn't interest a man, not a real man, she purred at him. Raoul knew the woman was obviously jealous of her daughter. He decided he needed to get a look at this girl the next morning. Raoul hadn't seen her when he arrived, but it was late when Gina finally invited him back to her place. Gina was a fairly attractive woman, her looks only marred by her heavy drinking and the obsessive amount of makeup she wore. Any daughter she was jealous of must be a real knock out. Also, he'd seen a picture of an older woman in a hand-made picture frame in the kitchen. Gina barely knew where the refrigerator was in the kitchen, so it must have been the girl. The older woman must have been the grandma, but she didn't look like one. She was a little plump, but had the same long dark hair and chocolate eyes as Gina, as well as high cheekbones and a small beauty mark on the left side of her jaw. Raoul had never been with a woman over 40, since that seemed to be the limit of when everything started to sag. But this woman didn't look like she would be saggy, and that's when inspiration struck him. He was going to fuck all three generations. Gina was easy, but the other two would take a little more work. Smiling to himself as he pulled an afghan over his shoulders, he fell asleep, dreaming of a sweet incestual foursome of which he was the master.

Raoul awoke to the sounds of someone bustling in the kitchen. He sat up just in time to leer at the most fuckable teenager he'd ever seen. How this chick had remained a virgin he'd never know. Thankfully, it wasn't to last. Such a shame to waste that ass while it was still young and tender. Slowly he stalked her until she was cornered in the kitchen. He wanted to pounce right there and then, but Gina had been moving around a little, and he didn't think the woman would be amenable to his fucking her daughter up the ass in the kitchen. So he maneuvered himself so that she couldn't escape until she gave him what he wanted: information. He was elated that she was going to grandma's house already. Gina had lamented their lack of a car, so he knew the only way to get there would be on foot or by bicycle. Odds were on the bike, but even over a bike he would have the advantage. When the girl practically flew out of the house and onto her bicycle, Raoul chuckled. She was scared now. He could smell her fear. He couldn't wait until he caught up to her.

Raoul made sure Gina saw him before she walked into the bathroom. He gave her a non-committal wave before she closed the door. Then he was off. His blood was pumping as he picked up her scent, but he had already figured out where the grandmother's house was, so he made a bee line across the roads and into the woods. He had left his car behind so he would have an alibi. Gina was still messed up enough that she wouldn't be able to figure out where he went, but she could easily see his car remained in place.

Raoul was fast as he ran through the small town, but once he reached the woods his speed more than tripled. It was nearly a full moon, and it had given him extra strength for the run through town. But it also gave him one more surprise. Stripping his clothes off and tossing them into the top of a tree, he let his body spring forward in an inhumanly long leap, giving it time to twist and turn until a sleek black wolf was running in his place. He could run at least twice the speed of the bicycle, but he also had the advantage of a straight path through the woods. He also hoped the girl would stop for flowers, as he'd suggested. Loping past huge oaks and firs, the animals of the forest became totally silent as he passed. Had he been human, he would have laughed. As it was, his tongue lolled in a wolfish grin, drool already dripping in anticipation of capturing his prey.

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byLaSalia© 10 comments/ 52104 views/ 54 favorites

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