A stroll and some thoughts

Hunter sauntered out of the bar, strolling aimlessly, just enjoying the taste of the soft night air. He had no particular destination in mind, or anything that he wanted to do, although he felt a springlike tension in his legs that urged him to run. That was the wolf inside him, he thought, suppressing the urge with a smile.

His mind mulled over the changes that had occurred. His pheromones seemed to utterly overpower some women, while others were mildly interested and most apparently immune. His recuperative powers were incredible, and he felt sure that he would be able fuck without rest for hours if need and want and opportunity offered.

He felt a small tinge of guilt that he might have abused his power, but he suppressed that thought as well. He had taken no woman against her will and he was not responsible for the effect his pheromones had on some of them. Part of his mind told him that he was paying only lip service to the truth, but he shook his head and focussed on the memories of fucking, the sweet cries of orgasm, the **** squirming of wanton female bodies. He felt himself hardening, and he glanced around, wondering if he should find a willing vessel to slake his lust in.