Premium Guest Star Story: Planet Sniffness

Gym etiquette tip: Always wipe down machines—and maybe the sheep you just dominated with your armpit.

Read the previous story here

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Jackie was still catching his breath, cock slick with tiger spit, the heat of it twitching against his belly, when the tigress Alex leaned back on her haunches and stretched. Not casually. Not incidentally. Deliberately. Predatory. She threw both arms up in the air and flexed, slow and showy, her toned biceps rippling under striped fur matted with sweat, her pits dark with damp heat. Her shoulders rolled like ocean waves, languid and powerful, muscles tight with use. The overhead gym lights carved her in definition, catching on the glossy matted fur beneath her arms, the sweat pooling there like grease in a crucible, slow and viscous, collecting in the humid hollows.

Her ponytail swung behind her like a metronome of power and intent, damp strands clinging to the nape of her neck.

She knew what she was doing. Every inch of her pose was calculated, every curve exaggerated, her scent blooming outward like pheromonal wildfire.

The Planet Fitness around them buzzed with distant motion. The clank of metal plates, the hiss of treadmills, the low grunts of effort and motion. The air was thick with testosterone and old sweat, heavy with musk and rubber, a cocktail of gym funk that stuck in the throat. No one looked at them anymore. They were part of the landscape now—known deviants in the background, tolerated and ignored. The gym had rules, sure—but not for them.

The gym’s corners held the kind of grime that didn’t come off with bleach—chalk dust ground into rubber mats, sweat-bloomed stains on the weight benches, ancient fans humming on their last legs. Fluorescents buzzed overhead, casting everything in that harsh, institutional white that made effort look like punishment. Somewhere, a squat rack slammed like thunder, then quieted. No one came over. No one interrupted. The stink of overtraining and testosterone masked everything but her.

A striped predator and her dazed sheep, caught in a moment suspended outside time.

The motion lifted her tits in a perfect, glistening arc—nipples perked, beaded with sweat—but the sheep wasn’t looking there. His eyes, wide and glassy, locked on the soaked hollows of her armpits. The scent was in the air now, thick and musky, drifting down in invisible tendrils like a mind flayer’s psyche altering tentacles. It hit the back of his throat like the sting of tequila, sharp and unmistakable, but more than that—it lingered, slow-burning, pulling heat into his gut.

Alex clocked it. Instantly. That green-eyed smirk crept across her muzzle, lazy and cruel, like a cat watching a mouse forget it's already in the trap. Her stance shifted forward just enough to loom.

“What’s the matter, sheep boy?” she cooed, letting one arm linger overhead while the other dropped to her hip, cocked with attitude. It had started as a joke. Just Alex playing around, huffing him through his shorts like a pervy cat. A dare, a laugh, a fetish she thought was hers. But then Jackie started thinking about her. About the way her scent lingered after sparring, the heat of her pit when she flexed over him, the burn of her musk in his throat. He didn’t know when the shift happened. Maybe it was always there, waiting.

The tigress’s pits were on full display now, fur clumped in wet spikes, the musk rolling off her like smoke from a cigarette. The scent was acrid, sour-sweet and thick as fog—fresh sweat layered over old, seasoned like skin left to steep in sex and workouts. “You like the smell?”

“It’s… fuck,” Jackie gasped, voice cracking. “It’s all I can smell.”

“It’s everywhere. It’s you.”

The sheep coughed. A twitch of self-preservation. Not shame—he wasn't shy—just overwhelmed. Her armpits didn’t just smell like sweat. They smelled like her. A pure, unfiltered distillation of effort, heat, and dominance. His pupils dilated like he'd just taken a hit of something illicit.

“Maybe,” he said, voice tight, eyes still glued to her like he couldn’t help it. “Depends on how strong it is.”

The striped feline laughed. Short. Sharp. “Oh, it’s strong.”

She strutted forward, hips rolling slow, each step peeling her scent across the bench between them. The sheep felt it hit his face before she even touched him. Warm. Damp. Female. A musk that filled the spaces between thoughts.

She peeled her gloves first, tossing them aside with a flick that sent drops of sweat spinning. Then she hooked a thumb under her waistband. Those red gym shorts slid down her thighs with deliberate grace, catching on fur and muscle before puddling around her ankle like a flag of surrender. Underneath? Nothing. Of course, nothing.

Her pussy glistened in the gym light, flushed and wet, lips slightly pink, puffy, and parted, the inner folds gleaming with fresh pussy juice. Her clit, engorged and twitching, peeked from under its hood as if begging for contact. Her scent exploded outward, a humid blast of fuckmusk that carried on the air—hot, heavy, and unmistakably in heat. The fur around her crotch was damp, stuck to her thighs, matted from grinding, scent-marking, and want.

“You were hard the whole time I was huffing you,” the tigress murmured, stepping over the sheep now, straddling the bench, then him. Her inner thigh brushed over his cock like a buttered brush over a brioche bun. It twitched so hard it slapped against her hip.

Jackie nodded. Couldn’t lie. Not with her pussy leaking onto his thigh.

“Still are,” she said, curling her fingers firmly around his shaft. His cock jerked in her grip. Leaking. Eager. She gave it a slow, deliberate stroke, base to tip, smearing precum and her thickened saliva across her palm. “Now it’s my turn.”

The herbivore’s brown cock was thick, long and slightly curved, red with blood and flushed from neglect. His tip oozed precum like sap, the head dipped and glistening, drool trailing down the shaft and smearing his pelvic fur. His hefty balls hung heavy between his legs, damp with sweat, the fur matted and moist, the skin taut and veiny, pulsing with heat. He was obscene, vulgar, perfect.

Then she lifted her right arm again. Slowly. Her chest grazed his as she leaned in. Her tit pressed against his sternum. Her pit hovered over his mouth.

“Go on, then,” she whispered, her voice suddenly soft and sacrilegious. “Take a deep breath.”

He hesitated. Just a second—barely a blink. But it was there.

A flicker of something—self-awareness? Resistance? The ghost of dignity?

It crumbled under the weight of her scent.

He did. Oh, fuck, he did.

The vinyl bench clung to his back with a squelch, every breath making it peel at his fur like old tape. The spot beneath him was already soaked — his sweat, her sweat, maybe someone else's — a swamp of musk that bled through the padding and into his spine. But none of that mattered. Not when his entire world was her pit. The smell was feral. Offensive. Gorgeous. It punched the back of his skull like a drug and dragged every thought down into heat and shame. His nose mashed deeper into the matted thatch of fur, his lips parting around the soft crease like it was a second pussy. He wasn’t just sniffing — he was huffing. Snorting. Trying to inhale the very identity of her stink like it would keep him alive.

And god, it did.

His nostrils flared, sucking in the heat like a starving animal. The funk invaded his sinuses, sticky and intimate. It had a taste—sour at the edges, but sweet in the middle. Like salt-crusted citrus candy baked in the sun. It coated his tongue without needing to lick, but when he did—

God, when he did—

His tongue slid up into the hollow of her pit, dragging hard, focused licks through the matted mess. He went slow at first, savoring the way the coarse fur scraped lightly against the flat of his tongue, each pass collecting a thick, sticky layer of musk and salt. The flavor was immediate: sharp, tangy, intensely personal. It clung to his taste buds, gritty like dried sweat but slippery, too, and thick. The more he licked, the more intense it became—his body reacting to the flavor with a full-body shiver of arousal.

He began to trace long lines, deliberate strokes from the edge of her underarm to its deepest point, where the musk was darkest and most concentrated. He could taste the buildup from hours of sweat, the layered residue of her workouts and natural scent, that rich animal heat that clung like perfume but far more real, more powerful. The flavor curled around the back of his throat, making his eyes roll back. He lapped it up, chasing beads of sweat as they rolled down from the depths, catching them on his tongue before they could drop.

He kissed her pit. He worshipped it. Again. And again.

Not even Charlie had huffed him like this. Sure, the mouse had played with the idea of his scent, teased him about it, maybe even indulged him. But this? Not even close.

‘Slllllrrrrrrrrp… Sloooorrrrp… Slllaaaarrrp.’

His lips pressed in, soft and firm, kissing the very center of her scent like it was a mouth he wanted to devour. He sucked lightly, then harder, pulling at the soaked fur, lips smacking against damp armpit with the obscene intimacy of a French kiss. Each suck pulled heat and sweat into his mouth, his tongue swirling to gather everything she had to offer. The salt, the stink, the intimacy of it.

He moaned into it, letting the sound vibrate through her.

“Hhhnnnnhhhaaaahh.”

Alex’s breath caught. Her whole body pulsed above him.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” she moaned, grinning ferally. “You’re really into this.”

He licked again, harder, tongue darting and curling along the folds of her underarm. He chased the taste like it was laced with opioids. His teeth grazed the edge, nipping playfully, and the taste shifted—more earthy, more raw. He swallowed her sweat without shame, nose mashed into her pit so tight that every inhale was a dose of pure, distilled Alex. Her scent clogged his thoughts, thick as fog, poisonous as smog.

Alex laughed through a moan, head thrown back, her free hand gripping the back of his head to hold him there. Her claws grazed his scalp with possessive pressure.

“Breathe me in,” she snarled. “Lick like it’s your last fucking meal.”

And Jackie did.

He licked like he was starving. Kissed like he needed it to live. Sucked on her pit until her nasty sweat dribbled down his chin, matting the fur that drew his jaw. His tongue moved with desperate rhythm, lapping in long strokes, then rapid flicks. He dragged the flat of his tongue in slow, heavy sweeps, then circled the center of her underarm with precise, teasing swirls.

His lips sealed around the hollow of her pit and sucked hard, like he wanted to leave a mark there. He nuzzled deeper, breath loud and greedy, moaning between each inhale. He mouthed her like she was dripping honey, like the taste was divine. Her flavor clung to the roof of his mouth and coated the back of his throat like a lozenge, his head spinning from the sheer intensity of it.

He groaned. Loud. Unashamed. He was grinding up into her without thinking, cock jerking between them, fully lost in the ritual of scent and submission.

“Hhhnnnnng…”

And Alex—Alex was panting now, her cunt leaking onto his lap, her spine arching, her core flexing with every touch of his tongue. She rode the arousal in waves, hips rocking just slightly, matching the lapping of his tongue to the squeeze of her folds around nothing. Her pit tightened in heat, in tension, and every stroke of his mouth felt like fire, in a good way.

“Fuuuuuuuuck, Jackie…”

It was filthy.

And she loved every second of it.

But it didn’t stop.

Jackie didn’t stop.

Even after the tiger’s moan had trailed into breathless panting, the sheep’s tongue kept moving—slower now, more sensual than frantic, but just as devoted. He wasn’t just licking anymore. He was savoring. Memorizing. His face stayed buried in her armpit, his tongue moving in figure-eights, lapping every lingering drop of sweat that clung to the curve of her underarm. He left no part of her armpit unturned.

He tasted the layered stories of her body there: the sharpness of fresh perspiration, the sour edge of aged musk caught in the deeper folds, the subtle sweetness of her natural scent that bloomed beneath the stronger notes like a secret Garden of Eden.

And Alex felt every inch of it.

Every flick of his tongue sent microshocks through her muscles, her skin tightening under the attention. Her pit was soaked and overstimulated, nerves raw and hyperaware. His nose pressed into her fur, lips parting with every suck and kiss, and it made her stomach tighten. Her thighs trembled. Her pussy gripping around emptiness—still greedy, still dripping, still humming with unresolved hunger.

She bit her lip hard as he kissed the inside curve, right where her arm met her chest. A soft, wet suck. Then a sharp lick. Then a broad, flat swipe that made her head loll backward with a guttural moan, the kind that bubbled up from her chest and cracked the air with filthy delight.

“Holy shit,” she gasped, voice cracking, hips jerking forward as her clit brushed the fur at the base of his dick. “You’re fucking addicted.”

Jackie didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His tongue was too busy, and his mind was too far gone. He was drunk on her. High. The kind of intoxication that turned skin into nutrients and scent into oxygen.

He moved to the upper crease of her underarm, nuzzling the damp fur there, then dipped lower again, finding a rivulet of sweat and following it with his tongue like a trail marked for him alone. He caught it as it dripped, moaning softly with the effort. Drinking it like a man stranded in a desolate desert discovering the fabled oasis

The tiger’s pit tingled—tingled—from the sheer persistence of his worship. It was no longer just hot or filthy. It was a little overwhelming. Her breath hitched as her body responded involuntarily. Her back arched. Her cunt throbbed again, fresh pussy juice rolling down to meet his excited cock, mixing with the sweat and spit already there. Her toes curled. Her tail flicked violently behind her.

“Fuck—Jackie—” she moaned, breathless. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

And he didn’t.

His tongue plunged deeper into the hollow, his lips sealed around the skin there, sucking again, milking the wet from her like it was life itself. His jaw ached, his tongue was sore, and still he licked. Still he kissed. Still he swallowed every drop. It wasn’t just devotion—it was obsession. Her musk was layered into his sinuses now, staining his breath and mind.

He had no idea where his scent ended and hers began. No idea how long he’d been buried in her. He only knew the taste. The texture. The way her pit made his brain buzz and his body burn. The primal sense of belonging he felt with his face shoved into her sweat-slicked dominance.

Alex’s claws dug into his horns as she shook again, the overstimulation edging her toward orgasm, just from his tongue in her pit. Her whole body trembled with the tension of holding it back.

She looked down at him—dazed and soaked—and whispered through a slightly seized jaw:

“You’re gonna make me cum just from this. From your fucking mouth in my pit.”

Jackie heard the words, felt them vibrate against his head—but something inside him winced. Not from disgust, not from fear, but from some dim part of himself that still remembered dignity. It flared and fizzled. He buried it under another lick, another moan, but it clung, sour and shameful. Was this really who he was now? Face buried in sweat, cock twitching on command? He didn’t know. Didn’t care. Or maybe he cared too much to look at it directly.

And she wasn’t wrong.

Her thighs tightened around him, and this time, her hips shifted—not to grind against his stomach, but to angle back.

The sheep had always loved pits. The heat. The stink. The rawness. They lit him up.

But this? This was something else. Something more.

This wasn’t a kink anymore—it was a devotion. Worship turned religion. Craving turned consumption.

He didn’t even care where her pussy was right now—his whole world was the soaked heat above his lips.

And it scared him. Just a little.

The tigress’s soaked cunt brushed his thigh fur as she lifted herself slightly, his cock twitching below like it knew what was coming. Alex reached between them, fingers trailing through the wet heat between her legs. She gripped the base of his shaft and gave it one slow, dragging stroke, smearing it with her fluid, thick and glossy, coating him with her need.

Jackie gasped into her pit, the sound muffled by fur.

Alex’s body shifted again—calculated, precise—and then she hovered, her swollen, dripping folds grazing the tip of his cock. The contrast of textures made them both shudder. He was hot, hard, covered in his own pre. She was hotter, wetter, open and throbbing. Her pussy pulsed visibly, clenching in anticipation.

“You ready?” she growled, rolling her hips just enough to smear her juices over his head. “You want me to ride this nasty fucking dick while you’re buried in my stink?”

The wooly boy whimpered into her armpit and nodded furiously, his tongue fluttering against her skin.

Alex didn’t wait.

She dropped.

She let her weight down in aching increments, savoring the stretch, the tension, the way his cock forced her walls apart inch by inch. The first inch parted her lips with a wet, squelching kiss, her folds sucking around him instantly, gripping like her body had been waiting—starving—for him. Her inner muscles flexed and rolled, slow and welcoming, drawing him in like a mouth learning the shape of its favorite meal.

‘Sqqqqllllch.’

Her eyes fluttered shut. Her breath hitched. She paused there—just the tip and a little more—circling her hips in a shallow grind to let her pussy get acquainted. Jackie’s shaft twitched, jerked, a pulse of hot precum bubbling up to smear against her walls. He was fully entranced, whimpering into her fur.

Then she lowered another inch.

A sound escaped her—half-moan, half-growl—as the thickest part of his cock slid into her. Her cunt spread wide around him, folds distending to accommodate his girth. She could feel every vein, every twitch. Her walls squeezed instinctively, rhythmically, testing him, owning him.

Jackie writhed beneath her, nose still buried in her pit, moaning as her heat enveloped him.

“Mmmmnnrnrrffff!”

Another inch.

Alex was shaking now, not from effort, but from the overwhelming fullness creeping up through her. Every nerve ending inside her sparked to life, her clit grinding lightly against his base with every microscopic shift. The heat between them was unbearable. Intoxicating.

Each inch dragged along her insides like sanded velvet—smooth, then coarse, then smooth again. She could feel his cock flaring just a little wider at the head, the slight curve hitting her in ways that made her gasp, bite her lip, and clench harder.

She bottomed out with a slow, wet slap—her hips fully seated, her cunt clenched tight to the hilt. Her breath hitched. Her spine arched. Her pussy fluttered in short, rolling contractions, as if trying to memorize his shape, to claim him fully.

‘Schplap.’

“Yeah,” Alex hissed, beginning to roll her hips. “Keep your face in there. I wanna feel you pant into my pit while I fuck myself on your gross fucking dick.”

She didn’t move right away.

She let him sit there, throbbing inside her, while her pit smothered his face and her walls tested his resolve. Then, inch by inch, she began to lift.

‘Slllllllllp. Plplplp.’

The drag of his cock out of her was almost unbearable—each slippery retreat exposing another ridge, another pulse, until just the tip remained nestled at her entrance.

And then she dropped again. Just halfway.

A moan tore from both of them.

She bounced once. Slow. Deliberate.

‘Plap.’

Again.

‘Plap.’

Again.

Each bounce came with a slow grind at the bottom, her clit dragging over the firmness of his groin, her pussy clenching in greedy waves. The sound between them was a constant chorus of filth—wet, rhythmic, decadent.

Only when she felt his cock twitch hard enough to jolt against her did she start to pick up speed.

And then she rode him.

At first, she rocked into him with a methodical rhythm—grind, bounce, grind—her hips pumping in a slow burn sort of way. She kept her right arm raised, pit pressed down against his face like it was a throne he was meant to kneel beneath. Her thighs flexed over his, strong and relentless, guiding each rise and fall of her body.

Jackie’s tongue never left her pit. His breath came faster now, each inhale dragged in through his nose like he was drowning and her scent was a pocket air. His mouth pressed deeper, licking between her fur in messy, open-mouthed strokes, tasting the heat as it built, the sweat as it poured, the intensity as it mounted.

She bounced harder. Her body slapped against his, wet friction growing faster, louder, wetter. Her pussy swallowed him again and again, each plunge accompanied by a wet squelch and the lewd sound of her cunt clenching tight around the length of his cock. He was throbbing inside her, thick and urgent, and she could feel his hips starting to twitch and buck on instinct.

“Ohhh yeah,” she moaned, laughing breathlessly. “I can feel you losing it. You getting high on my fucking pit, baby?”

The little sheep boy didn’t answer. He couldn't. His mouth was working in tandem with her rhythm, lapping harder, faster, tongue flicking erratic, desperate patterns across her soaked flesh. He groaned into her, sucking her sweat like it was feeding him. His hands gripped her hips now, barely, fingers trembling.

Alex rode him faster.

Her ponytail snapped with every bounce, a sweaty brunette whip cracking through the air behind her.

Each bounce came with force. Her breasts bounced with every landing, her ass slapping against his hips, her core pulling him in like a Dyson vacuum. Her cunt rippled around his cock with precision—squeeze, release, squeeze—milking him with each slam. The pressure built in waves, heat radiating from her center.

And Jackie—Jackie was losing control.

His hips started to move.

At first it was just a reflexive thrust upward, a needy twitch, but soon his whole body was driving into her in ragged rhythm. Still buried in her armpit, still licking, but now fucking back into her—desperate, involuntary, lost.

‘Plap! Plap! Plap! Plap!’

“Fuuuuck,” The striped cat gasped, head thrown back. “That’s it. Fucking lose it.. Hump up into this pussy like it owns your brain.”

He did.

His thrusts met hers now, rough and sloppy, the friction between them a messy chorus of wet sound. Her cunt gripped him tighter, squeezing like it wanted to strangle his cock. Sweat dripped down both their bodies, pooling on the bench, sticking their fur together.

Her pit soaked his muzzle. His tongue moved like a machine. Her pussy swallowed him whole.

And he was gone.

Until finally—

She came. Hard.

Her breath hitched. Her core clenched. Her cunt fluttered in wet, grasping pulses as she bounced harder, faster—the friction almost unbearable. The squelch of their bodies grew sharper, wetter. Her eyes rolled back as her clit dragged over his pelvic fur again and again, building static electricity.

Then it zapped.

Her thighs locked. Her spine arched. Her whole body jolted like she’d just been plugged into a wall socket.

“Fuuuck—!” she screamed, voice raw, almost breaking.

Her cunt clenched violently around him, milking his cock with ragged contractions that came in waves—fast, then slow, tight, then tighter. Her stomach muscles rippled under striped fur, her claws scraping wildly across his chest. She lost rhythm. She lost control. She came—and it was loud, wet, messy.

‘Shppppwwwwssssh!’

A sudden hot gush erupted between her legs—a spray, not a drip—as her pussy squirted mid-orgasm, a powerful stream that splashed down onto the gym floor and soaked the carpet that lined it.

And it didn’t stop.

Another burst followed. Then another. And another.

“Aaaaaaah! Shit—fuck, FUCK!” she moaned, hips jerking.

The next squirts were messier, sloppier—running down her thighs and pooling on the bench beneath them.

Her body stuttered and trembled, each pulse dragging another involuntary twitch out of her. Her pussy spasmed so tight around Jackie’s cock it almost hurt—a full-body clench that refused to let go.

Her scent spiked again—raw, high, humid—her climax smeared into the air like an olfactory explosion. Jackie moaned into her pit like he was drowning in it.

She grabbed the sheep’s horns. Not for dominance—for balance.

She lowered her raised arm slightly, pit pressing tighter against his face, still panting, still grinding. Still leaking. Her cunt clung to him in greedy aftershocks, milking him even after the quake had passed—like a tectonic twat locked in, pulsing, sucking, shuddering like it wanted to fuck the planet off its axis.

Her pussy gripped him like it was trying to pull him deeper, trying to fuse their bodies together. Every pulse dragged his tip against the soaked, swollen ridges of her walls, every clench a demand. Her tail lashed behind her, muscles taut, sweat flicking from the tip like a whipcrack of release.

Jackie gasped into her pit, tongue stuttering mid-lick, overcome by the overwhelming feeling of her orgasm rippling around him. The scent of her sweat grew sharper, more pungent, a fresh wave of musk flooding his nostrils as her body flushed hot with release. His eyes rolled back. His hands spasmed on her hips, nails digging reflexively into striped fur.

And then he broke.

He jerked beneath her, cock swelling impossibly thick inside her just before the first rope of cum surged free.

It was explosive. A hot, desperate flood that hit the very back of her cunt and bounced. His balls pulled tight, wrung dry by the clenching rhythm of her orgasm and the pulsing kiss of her scent on his brain. His entire body locked, then spasmed, overcome by the sheer force of release.

‘Splurt.’

The second spurt followed faster. Stronger. Thicker.

‘Splort.’

“Fucking yes,” Alex snarled, grinding down, rotating her hips to wring him dry. “Give it to me. Let me feel it. Fill me the fuck up.”

A third spurt. Then fourth. Fifth.

‘Splurt, splort, splart.’

Each one soaked her from the inside, the excess gushing around his shaft, bubbling between their bodies and dribbling down onto the bench from his balls. His hips bucked. His moans were guttural. Animal. His whole body shook beneath her like a live wire fraying at the ends.

“Hhhhaaaannnhhnnrrmmmf!”

And still, he huffed into her pit, muzzle soaked, tongue lashing frantically as if the scent alone was pulling the cum from his body.

He came until he had nothing left, his cock twitching with aftershocks, still milked by her rippling pussy.

He collapsed, not just from release — from complete sensory ruin. His face peeled from her pit with a slow, obscene squelch, the kind that stuck in the ears and the memory. Like Velcro coated in oil. A strand of spit and funk snapped between his muzzle and her soaked underarm. A leash made of musk. He almost whimpered from the separation. His fur was matted with her, damp to the roots, clinging to his jaw in tangles of salt and scent. Her musk still burned behind his eyes, tattooed into his sinuses. The air around his face was thick — the type of thickness that stuck to your lungs and tasted like sex and unwashed workout seasoning. Beneath him, the bench creaked, leather peeling at his spine with every subtle muscle movement.

Alex, still catching her breath, smirked down at him, chest heaving. She didn’t lift off him—instead, she rolled her hips forward just slightly, adjusting her balance, never letting his cock slip from the tight, milky grip of her pussy. Her legs shifted around him, thighs flexing with feline grace as she twisted her torso and began to rotate in place.

With a slow, grinding swivel of her hips, she pivoted atop him while he was still fully buried inside. Her pussy dragged over the rigid curve of his shaft in a spiraling, sucking twist that made them both groan. She brought her right leg over his torso, her core clenching the whole way, the motion slow and intentional, meant to tease and overstimulate. Her claws lightly scratched his chest, a slow draw down over sweat-dampened fur.

“Sqqqllllllllllllllrp.’

By the time she was facing him fully, straddling him cowgirl, her body was humming with control, every muscle in her core holding him inside her with vice-like pressure. She sank back down into his lap, never breaking contact, letting her full weight settle on his cock until her soaked mound met the flush of his hips again. She exhaled with satisfaction, a slow hiss of breath through bared teeth.

“Aaaaaahh…”

Now face to face, her soaked pussy still clutching him in aftershock pulses, she ground into the mess they’d made. His cum clung to her inner thighs, trailing in lewd, sticky strings that connected them. Her scent still hung heavy around his muzzle, clinging to his fur, baked into his brain.

She rocked slowly against him, keeping him inside as she smeared herself along his cock, teasing out the last of his twitchy sensitivity. Each grind made him twitch again, his cock giving slow, helpless pulses inside her. She could feel how overstimulated he was—every inch of him trembling beneath her, every nerve lit up, like his whole body had become one long fuse waiting to be lit again.

She didn’t let up.

The tigress moved with maddening slowness, letting her folds squeeze and massage his shaft, drawing out soft, wet gasps from his parted lips. Her cunt still pulsed around him in gentle, possessive waves, greedy for every lingering throb of his cock.

“God, you’re disgusting,” she whispered, voice affectionate and mocking all at once. “Look at you. Back for more.”

Jackie, dazed, mouth glistening with her sweat, leaned forward and shoved his face back into Alex’s half closed armpit. He just kept going. Licking, kissing, worshipping it like it was holy. Even with her now facing him, his hands reached for her half-raised arm, guiding it back up, his mouth drawn toward the source like a magnet. His tongue moved lazily, tracing old paths, lapping at her like he needed it to breathe.

The musk had changed—richer, more pungent from heat and effort, deeper now that she’d cum. Her post-orgasm scent was thick with intensity, more complex. The sheep sucked in a slow breath through his nose and whimpered, tongue lashing out to taste the post-climax tang that smeared through her fur. It was rich. Faintly bitter, heavy with salt. His eyes fluttered shut in bliss, the scent pulling him back in again.

His cock twitched inside her again.

“You freak,” Alex purred, leaning in to bite his ear. “Nasty little pit huffer.”

“You are so gross,” she whispered, dragging her tongue along the curve of his jaw. “Huffing my scent, eating out my armpit . You know I’m not done, right?” Her voice dropped lower, breath hot against his fur. “I can feel you twitching in me. Still got some left.”

She lifted her hips a half inch. His cock throbbed. Her grin turned wolfish.

“You gonna give me another one? Huh? Gonna let me ride your poor dumb cock until it’s spitting powder? I wanna feel that last spurt leak into me while you moan into my fucking armpit.”

Every slow grind was a full-body shiver. Jackie whimpered—whined—as her cunt gripped and rolled around him like it hadn’t had enough, like it still had more to wring out. His hands trembled on her thighs, no strength left in them, just instinct. His cock kicked feebly inside her, semi-hard and leaking, the nerves too fried to know what to do except stay hard and keep twitching repeatedly.

Alex watched his face with unholy glee, her smirk deepening with every stutter of his breath. “Aw,” she cooed, dragging her hips in a slow figure-eight grind, “didn’t know you could make those little noises. Poor thing. So sensitive now. Still hard for me? Or is that just your dick twitching out of habit?”

She clenched down deliberately, hard, slow, and cruel.

Jackie bucked. Couldn’t help it. A useless, involuntary thrust that made Alex giggle.

“Still in there,” she murmured. “Still trying.” She rotated again, just enough to feel his cock shift inside her. “Let’s see what else I can milk out of you. Feel free to keep sniffing, you freak.”

Her hips moved in lazy undulations, each motion sending a cascade of heat through her thighs. The muscles in her core tightened with every flex, control dancing beneath striped fur. Her cunt pulsed in soft, rhythmic grips around his spent cock, coaxing it, teasing it, like she could mold it back to life through friction and willpower alone.

Her claws raked lightly down his chest, not enough to break skin, but enough to make him squirm. Her own breathing came in tight, controlled puffs—each exhale fogging the air between them, tasting like power and post-orgasm haze.

Jackie’s legs were trembling. Not shaking—trembling. His hooves scraped faintly against the gym bench with every tiny thrust of her hips, like even running on empty, his body wanted more. The bench beneath them creaked in protest, sticky with sweat and cum.

Alex's eyes glinted, her voice low and velvet-dark. “You’re not done until I say you are.”

And she meant it.

The brown cotton ball sheep twitched beneath her like a used toy still leaking battery juice, nerves frayed and flickering with aftershock.

Alex hadn’t moved much—not really. She was still straddling him, pussy thoroughly stuffed, her whole body glowing with exertion. Her pits were moist, dark with sweat, trickling into the stripes at her sides. Her core ached in that satisfied, pulsing way that only came after someone had been ridden to ruin—but she wasn’t done. Not yet.

Her hips had stilled, but her expression hadn’t.

Predatory. Wicked. Smug in a way only a tigress could be while sitting on a sheep who had just moaned into her armpit like it was a chalice of delicious wine. There was a gleam in the tigress’s eyes—leisurely hunger, the kind of triumph only a predator feels once the prey stops running.

She looked down at Jackie—his chest was heaving, tongue fluttering from where it had been buried in her pit, his muzzle soaked with the cocktail of sweat, spit, and pheromone-heavy salt that clung to her skin.

"You look like shit," she purred, voice raw from panting but sharp with mirth.

Jackie smiled. Dopey. A little glassy-eyed, like his soul was off somewhere else entirely.

"Th-hanks," he slurred, hooves twitching at the end of limp legs. "You too."

Alex laughed—sharp, barking, full of teeth. "I look better than you do.”

She rolled her hips once—agonizingly slow. Her pussy dragged along his cock, tight and still wet, humiliatingly warm. The squelch it made was sinful—a wet, thick sound punctuated by the slow ooze of cum trickling out and puddling in his belly fur.

‘Schhhhquelch.’

The pit-huffing piece of sheep whimpered. It wasn’t even a moan. Just a broken sound from somewhere deep in his diaphragm.

"Oh, poor thing," she crooned, mock-sweet. "Still sensitive?"

Alex flexed again, pelvic muscles tightening around his softening, overstimulated cock like a vice. Her walls squeezed in slow, rippling waves, coaxing another twitch out of him, not letting him go soft.

"Ghn—fuck—" he gasped, back arching reflexively. His arms stayed limp at his sides. He couldn’t even lift them if he wanted to.

Not that he would. You could see it in the way his cock kicked inside her, even deflating. The way his eyes fluttered closed like he was praying to a god made of tiger musk and humiliation.

Alex leaned in, her sweat-soaked tits pressing into his chest, fur sticking where their bodies had met and melted together. She pressed her exposed pit against the sheep’s face hard.

"You’re not done," she whispered. "You don’t get to be done."

The gym didn’t care. Treadmills still hummed. A barbell clanged in the distance. Fluorescents buzzed above them like flies. No alarms. No gasps. Just the quiet, uncaring rhythm of a world where pit-licking perverts came and went like any other gym rat. Jackie could still feel her scent burning behind his eyes, singed into his sinuses like permanent marker. His breath reeked of her, and he knew it. Anyone walking past would know it too. They’d smell her on him. In him. Through him. He’d walk out of here with the taste of her pit still caked on his tongue, breath sour from sweat, and everyone would know what he’d been under. Who he’d been under. And he’d beg to go back.

He moaned. Louder than before. Almost grateful.

“Hhnnnnnaaahhhhhgg!!! Fhhuuuucccck.”

His tongue came out again, lapping weakly at the sour heat of her armpit. It wasn’t fresh anymore—just thick. Concentrated. A stew of effort and climax clinging to her fur like a signature. Her scent had evolved from sharp to savage, but he didn’t care. He dragged his tongue through the matted fur, catching beads of salty moisture that made his eyes sting.

"Ugh, gross," Alex teased, her grin stretching with each flick of his tongue. "You like this way too much."

He didn’t deny it. He couldn’t.

"I can feel your cock twitching every time your tongue hits the deep part," she said, voice low and cruel. "What’s that about, sheep boy? Gonna cum again just from licking my pit like a little fucking addict?"

“Uuuhhhhgghhhhuuhh…” He moaned into her fur.

"Mmhmm. That’s what I thought."

She lifted off him with a squelch—a slick, wet schlop that left a trail of fluids between their bodies. Her pussy drooled down his shaft, his cum and hers smeared together in obscene streaks across his belly. Then she shifted forward and sat on his chest, straddling him just beneath the ribs.

The weight knocked the air out of him. So did the smell.

Her crotch hovered just under his chin, swollen and soaked, folds glistening and glossy. Strings of cunt sap stretched between her thighs, connecting them with viscous threads. Jackie groaned, helpless.

Alex leaned in and dipped her fingers into the mess on his stomach, swirling it like finger paint. She scooped a thick strand of their mixed cum and dragged it up his chest—painting him. Across his sternum. Up to his neck.

"What if I just left you here like this?" she mused aloud, her voice somewhere between cruel and amused as she painted his cheek. "Little sheep cum-doll. Used up and stinking."

She daubed his nose. His lips. A sticky trail across his face. The scent hit him hard. Sharp. Rank. Intimate.

The sheep wobbled again. His cock gave a weak pulse—half-hard and trying.

"Oh my god," The tigress giggled. "You are into it."

She leaned over and spit—slow, thick, a glob that hit just beneath his eye and slithered down like a tear made of filth.

Jackie moaned. A ragged, broken sound.

"That’s disgusting," she said. "You’re disgusting."

And then she grinned.

"I fucking love it."

She dragged her pussy up his torso slowly, leaving a smeared trail of heat and scent. She stopped just beneath his chin, folds resting against his throat. Her scent there was overwhelming—thick, cloying, chemical. It was post-fuck pheromones and days-old gym sweat. It was a jungle—hot, humid, tangled with scent.

"You smell that?" she asked, grinding lightly against his collarbone.

He licked his lips. The taste was already there.

And then he nodded.

Alex shifted again and sat back fully on his chest. Her thighs pressed tight to his ribs, and her hands came up to grab both sides of his face. She angled him up, made sure he was looking at her.

Her eyes narrowed.

"Say it."

Jackie blinked. "Say what?"

"Say you like it."

He hesitated. One second too long.

The tigress raised her arm again and shoved his face into her pit, hard. It squeaked against his nose.

"Say it."

Muffled. Desperate. Willing:

"I like it."

"Say you’re a nasty little pit huffer."

There was a moment—a flicker—where the words caught in his throat. He wasn’t choking. He just… paused. Like a part of him wanted to pull away, to remember his name, his edges, his spine. But then the scent hit him again, thick and punishing, and his knees buckled metaphorically. He said it. Of course he said it. But the pause stayed. It echoed.

"...I’m a nasty little pit huffer."

"Say it like you mean it."

Jackie’s lips parted, then shut. He strained his jaw, embarrassment flooding hot across his cheeks. For a second, he couldn’t. Not because he didn’t believe it—but because he did.

Her pit pressed harder to his face. The scent hit like punishment.

“I’m a… I’m a nasty little pit huffer,” he breathed.

The words tasted like defeat and armpit.

"I’m a nasty little pit huffer."

"And what do nasty little pit huffers get?"

The sheep boy whimpered. His nose still buried in her musk.

"More pit."

Alex cackled, full and wicked.

"Damn right they do."

And with that, she slid her pussy down his torso back into his lap and pulled him back upright again—not to ride, not yet, but to press her pit deeper onto his face like a seal. Her other hand reached between her thighs and found his cock, now fully back to life from her relentless teasing.

The wooly shouldn’t have been hard again. Not this fast. His balls were still aching, his thighs twitching with aftershock. But her scent short-circuited logic—his cock twitching like it had a mind of its own, drunk on tiger musk.

She wrapped her fingers around it with a practiced grip, stroking him back into hardness with the same hand that had marked him in their mingled mess.

"Let’s see how many times I can make you cum while you’re still licking my stink," she murmured. And she meant it.

Jackie’s cock gave a shuddering twitch.

Helpless.

Happy.

Oh, so, very happy.

-----

Art by ShinyStarShard

Guest Starring Jackie by HypeMan

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