The Lapphund

Simon approached her from behind and sniffed her pussy. It was aroused and musky the way he liked it. Her scent caused him to let out a howl of approval that could be heard across Gum Swamp Creek. He then mounted her and searched in vain for her opening with his cock. She lowered her shoulders before reaching between her legs and guiding his phallus to her front door.

He had intended to restrain himself when he fucked her, but when the sensitive tip of his cock touched the warm wetness of her sex, an instinct as old as the werewolf species consumed him. His ass-end recoiled instantly and fired his projectile forward at lightning speed. Before he knew what had happened his ass-end recoiled and fired again. His hind quarters were moving like the pistons of a high performance engine as he ravished her.

She was hollering and screaming and cussing and calling for Divine intervention as Simon claimed her. The rutting was done in a minute or so and then he curled himself around her limp body as they laid on the blanket locked together.

It was then that a hunter peered through the bushes he was hiding in since the howling, hooting and hollering had led him to them. All he could see was a body he assumed was a woman surrounded by the wolf. He hauled ass when Simon raised his head and looked around once he picked up the hunter's scent.

The story that hunter told of what he'd seen is the basis for the legend.

Little do the townspeople know that when the see Carey drive by with Simon riding shotgun with his head hanging out of the window, they are looking at the werewolf and his mate.