Ask him to wait — reach into my purse for one of my three condoms first.

Marco's House (First House), Breedmore Lane, at 8:42 PM on Friday October 31, 2024.

"W-wait," I gasp, pressing one hand against his broad, fur-sprinkled chest. The words feel like they're coming from somewhere far away — from the tiny rational corner of my brain that's still functioning beneath the molten haze of arousal. "Wait, please — I have — in my purse —"

Marco freezes above me, his amber eyes narrowing. A low rumble builds in his chest — not quite a growl, not quite a purr — and I can feel the vibration through my palm. His transformed hands grip my thighs, fingers thick and clawed at the tips, holding me open. Every instinct in my body is screaming at me to wrap my legs around him, to pull him inside me, to let him fill me up. The aphrodisiac is a roaring fire in my veins and my pussy is aching — empty, clenching on nothing, desperate to be stretched.

But I reach for my purse anyway. My fingers are shaking so badly I can barely grip the strap. I drag it across the couch cushion, fumble with the clasp, and finally produce one of the three little foil packets Sarah gave me.

"A condom?" Marco says, and something flickers across his face — amusement, maybe. Or hunger. His voice is thick and rough, barely human. "You want me to wrap this cock before I stuff it inside your tight little virgin hole?"

He stands up from between my legs and I see it — him — for the first time. His shirt has torn open across his chest, revealing a torso covered in dark fur that thickens toward his groin. And his cock... god. It's massive. Thick as my wrist, veined and flushed dark red, the head swollen and glistening with pre-cum. At the base, a bulge is forming — a knot, swelling slowly, already bigger than a golf ball and growing.

"I — yes," I stammer, holding the condom packet out with a trembling hand. "Please. I only have three and I have — there are other houses —"

"Other houses," he repeats, and his laugh is a low, dangerous thing. He takes the packet from my fingers, his clawed hand engulfing mine. "You're worried about the other houses when I'm standing right here with ten inches of wolf cock that's going to split your virgin cunt in half?"

He tears the packet open with his teeth. I watch him roll it down his shaft — the latex stretches thin over the massive head, strains over the thick shaft, barely reaches halfway before the material is pulled taut and translucent. It looks absurdly small on him. Like a rubber band stretched over a baseball bat.

"There," he says, his amber eyes locked on mine. "Happy, sweetheart?"

He's between my legs again before I can answer, the thick head of his cock pressing against my soaking entrance. The condom is already straining — I can see tiny stress lines in the latex where it stretches over his girth. His knot presses against my outer lips, impossibly large, and I realize with a spike of fear that there's no way that thing is going inside me.

"Deep breath, Bambi," Marco growls, his furred hands gripping my hips. "I'll go slow. But I'm getting inside this pussy tonight."

He pushes forward. The head of his cock breaches my entrance and I scream — a sharp, splitting pain as my virgin hole stretches wider than it's ever stretched before. The condom is already tearing, I can hear it — a soft snick of latex giving way — but Marco doesn't stop. He can't stop. His eyes are fully amber now, his jaw clenched with the effort of control, and his hips push steadily forward, inch by impossible inch, splitting me open on his massive wolf cock.