To me, soft fluffyness is a tactile sensual communication medium for communicating love. Fluffyness speaks to me louder than words. It speaks volumes. When I see soft fluffyness, it says to me, "Please touch me! I am so soft and fluffy, that I beg to be touched, held, caressed. Welcome! You are welcome with me, and your touch is welcome. I am safe to be with. You are safe with me. I am gentle and loving. As long as you are gentle and loving too, I will not run away nor send you away. I am here for you to enjoy, and I love how much you enjoy me. Dive into my fluffyness and enjoy!"
That is what soft fluffyness says to me, and that is exactly what I am saying with my fluffyness when I am wearing a soft fluffy angora sweater or fur.
Unfortunately, most other people wearing soft fluffy garments are not thinking anything like that! Instead, especially if they are wearing furs or thick fluffy 100% angora, they are usually saying something more like, "I am rich and I think I am better than you. I like to look enticing, but I am not available to you. I will reject you. Look, but do not touch. Don't even approach me. I am looking for only the most desirable and select of partners." Even when my exwives were wearing an angora sweater, they were just saying, "I feel cold and I am just wearing this to keep warm, because it feels good. Also, I know you like seeing and touching me in this, and I do want to please you and have your attention. I don't want to lose you. But I really wish you would be more attracted to me and my body than to the fuzzy sweater!" It pains me to see the inconsistency when the people wearing soft fluffy things are saying such different messages than the soft fluffyness itself is saying to me.
I longingly want to be with other fluffy lovers who are actually saying and meaning what the fluffyness says to me.
Friday, August 14, 2009
How Extreme My Fluffy Fetish Is
My fur/fuzzy fetish is TOTAL AND COMPLETE, and has been central to my life and sexuality since my very first orgasm as a child. I have never been able to orgasm without fur or angora or something similarly soft. I have been sleeping in soft sweaters since puberty. I started sleeping on/in fur as soon as I left home in college. My fur fetish continued to become more encompassing as I matured and my collection grew.
I need to feel soft furryness engulfing every inch of me from head to toe, including especially my face and hands, in order to be most turned on, to orgasm, even to have an erection. The touch of bare skin against any part of my body actually turns me off sexually (although I do appreciate skin touch sensually in a nonsexual way). Any part of me that is touching nonfluffyness (whether it is touching bare skin or just exposed to the open air) is distracting and detracts from my enjoyment. Even if my exwife would reach her hand in under my fuzzies to directly touch my skin during sex, I would wither. I needed her to hold and rub and caress me WITH and THROUGH the furry softness. She also wanted to see my face and gaze into each others eyes during sex. But if my face is not nuzzling into soft furryness, I can not get/stay erect.
And furry sex is not just a small part of my life. I furrygasm 2 or 3 or more times a day. All my furniture is covered with sheepskins or furry blankets. I have alpaca fur art rugs hanging on the walls. I take fuzzies with me to sleep in when I travel. I just hope I can some day find somebody who will enjoy sharing total head-to-toe furry ecstacy with me!! I also note that being bi and fur fetish go together well for me, because men and women don't feel so different when felt through fur! And when covered in fur and/or angora from head to toe the way I like, they don't even look so different! If anyone wants to share a totally furry loving life in my huge collection of furs and angoras, please contact me!
My fluffyness fetish is so extreme and complete that I am sexually attracted ONLY to soft fluffyness (and the loving affectionate people wearing it), not to nakedness, not to femininity or masculinity nor to any particular physical attribute other than fluffyness. Even the sight of nakedness is no turnon for me. (I am though completely comfortable and relaxed with nakedness, my own and others, nonsexually. I am naked at home when I am too warm to wear fluffies.) The pictures on the popular fuzzy websites showing naked women wearing a sweater or fur turn me off. I prefer the ones where the person is wearing fluffies all over.
I don't even like to go anywhere that I cannot wear fluffies. I do work in an office where I need to wear standard business clothes, but I still do wear a mohair or cashmere cardigan even there, and anyway that is only 40 hours a week, and it pays for my fluffy life. And I will be retiring in 6 years. I hope to never wear anything not soft and fluffy after I retire. Even though I have always dreamed of seeing the world, I have trouble considering traveling to any hot and humid place that does not have air conditioning. I also have no interest in being with people who are uncomfortable with seeing me in fluffies, and no desire to attend any event where I could not wear them.
Another thing that is extreme about my fluffy fetish is that I give fluffy orgasms first priority in my life. I would fluffygasm 24/7 if I had the opportunity, and the loving partners willing to share the ecstatic experience with me. I have stayed in bed for entire 3-day weekends fluffygasming as often as I can. But only alone, and that gets lonely and tiresome. Nobody has wanted to share this exquisite focused experience with me. Everybody else prefers to do so many other things. While there are lots of things I like doing too, there is nothing that I prefer over fluffygasming. And I believe making love full time is as worthwhile an activity as any other. It is healthy both mentally/emotionally and physically for the people involved, and it is healthier for the planet than most of the polluting other things people do too much.
I am in my furs and angoras all night every night and can't imagine sleeping comfortably without them. Yes, I guess you could say I'm truly a furs and angoras addict! I usually don't even accept invitations to stay the night at a friend's house (on the couch or in a guest bed) unless they at least let me have a soft furry blanket, and/or a furry pillow to hold on to. Even on the extremely rare occasion that they would be offering me themselves for me to sleep with them, I would still prefer at least a soft furry blanket to wrap up in or at least hold on to, just to be able to feel comfortable! That's why I always keep a furry blanket availble in my car!
[Question for readers who are fuzzy fetishists] Are you mentally healthier than I am, and do you feel ok without fuzzies but you just enjoy even more being in them? Or are you suffering (at least a little bit) every night you sleep without them, as I would be? (that suffering is what I am calling addiction)
I only once ever let a wife come between me and my furs, in my very brief (less than a year) first marriage, when I was only 22 and still quite naive. I had always been told, including by my fiancée, that I had my "childish" fur/fuzzy fetish only because I was still a virgin, and that it would naturally fade away and I would outgrow it as soon as I finally experienced REAL sex, with my wife. Well, I quickly found out how wrong they all were!
My first wife insisted, on the night before our wedding, that I had to get rid of all the fuzzy sweaters I had on the morning of our wedding day, or she would not go through with the wedding! She only allowed me to keep my icelandic sheepskin fur rug and my mohair scarf. She further insisited that we must sleep between sheets with no fur in the bed. I NEVER got comfortable sleeping with her like that. But because she slept quite soundly and did not awaken when I left the bed to gp pee in the middle of the night, AND because she REQUIRED that I must bring her a fresh brewed cup of coffee every morning, to her still sleeping in bed, to wake her up, I quickly got in the habit of snuggling with my fur rug and fuzzy scarf on the couch every morning while her coffee was brewing. That made the night almost bearable, and made me at least able to get up and go to work.
(Back in my younger years, probably at least through my 20s, I thought I was literally incapable of falling asleep without furgasming, at least once, first, and I was further incapable of getting myself up out of bed, for anything other than just to go pee, but I could not get on with my day, until I had enough furgasms, and just one was never enough! Now THAT was addiction! Fuzzygasms were for me in the morning what coffiee was for my first wife.
In my 30s and 40s, I gradually matured, so that I learned that I could fall asleep without having to furgasm, and if absolutely necessary, I could get up and get on with my day, even if I had not managed to have any furgasms. However, I have made sure throughout my life that I have had to face that undesirable circumstance on only the fewest possible occasions!)
Since the end of that first marriage, every girlfriend/wife has had to accept that I always sleep in angora sweaters as pajamas, and on and under furs, or at least furry blankets, and if she wants to sleep with me, that is the way it will be. To my amazement, for most of my adult life, I have found partners who have been willing to sleep with me in that way, but usually they eventually developed resentment and said they thought the furs and angoras were more important to me than they were. The relationships always eventually ended over some other issue, mostly their jealousy of my other affectionate friendships, but that resentment of my fur fetish certainly contributed to our problems. I have always longed for and dreamed of having a partner who appreciates and enjoys the sensuousness of sleeping in furs and angoras as much as I do. But I was already in my 50s! before I finally found out on the internet that I was not the ONLY person in the world that feels this way about fur and angora.
I need to feel soft furryness engulfing every inch of me from head to toe, including especially my face and hands, in order to be most turned on, to orgasm, even to have an erection. The touch of bare skin against any part of my body actually turns me off sexually (although I do appreciate skin touch sensually in a nonsexual way). Any part of me that is touching nonfluffyness (whether it is touching bare skin or just exposed to the open air) is distracting and detracts from my enjoyment. Even if my exwife would reach her hand in under my fuzzies to directly touch my skin during sex, I would wither. I needed her to hold and rub and caress me WITH and THROUGH the furry softness. She also wanted to see my face and gaze into each others eyes during sex. But if my face is not nuzzling into soft furryness, I can not get/stay erect.
And furry sex is not just a small part of my life. I furrygasm 2 or 3 or more times a day. All my furniture is covered with sheepskins or furry blankets. I have alpaca fur art rugs hanging on the walls. I take fuzzies with me to sleep in when I travel. I just hope I can some day find somebody who will enjoy sharing total head-to-toe furry ecstacy with me!! I also note that being bi and fur fetish go together well for me, because men and women don't feel so different when felt through fur! And when covered in fur and/or angora from head to toe the way I like, they don't even look so different! If anyone wants to share a totally furry loving life in my huge collection of furs and angoras, please contact me!
My fluffyness fetish is so extreme and complete that I am sexually attracted ONLY to soft fluffyness (and the loving affectionate people wearing it), not to nakedness, not to femininity or masculinity nor to any particular physical attribute other than fluffyness. Even the sight of nakedness is no turnon for me. (I am though completely comfortable and relaxed with nakedness, my own and others, nonsexually. I am naked at home when I am too warm to wear fluffies.) The pictures on the popular fuzzy websites showing naked women wearing a sweater or fur turn me off. I prefer the ones where the person is wearing fluffies all over.
I don't even like to go anywhere that I cannot wear fluffies. I do work in an office where I need to wear standard business clothes, but I still do wear a mohair or cashmere cardigan even there, and anyway that is only 40 hours a week, and it pays for my fluffy life. And I will be retiring in 6 years. I hope to never wear anything not soft and fluffy after I retire. Even though I have always dreamed of seeing the world, I have trouble considering traveling to any hot and humid place that does not have air conditioning. I also have no interest in being with people who are uncomfortable with seeing me in fluffies, and no desire to attend any event where I could not wear them.
Another thing that is extreme about my fluffy fetish is that I give fluffy orgasms first priority in my life. I would fluffygasm 24/7 if I had the opportunity, and the loving partners willing to share the ecstatic experience with me. I have stayed in bed for entire 3-day weekends fluffygasming as often as I can. But only alone, and that gets lonely and tiresome. Nobody has wanted to share this exquisite focused experience with me. Everybody else prefers to do so many other things. While there are lots of things I like doing too, there is nothing that I prefer over fluffygasming. And I believe making love full time is as worthwhile an activity as any other. It is healthy both mentally/emotionally and physically for the people involved, and it is healthier for the planet than most of the polluting other things people do too much.
I am in my furs and angoras all night every night and can't imagine sleeping comfortably without them. Yes, I guess you could say I'm truly a furs and angoras addict! I usually don't even accept invitations to stay the night at a friend's house (on the couch or in a guest bed) unless they at least let me have a soft furry blanket, and/or a furry pillow to hold on to. Even on the extremely rare occasion that they would be offering me themselves for me to sleep with them, I would still prefer at least a soft furry blanket to wrap up in or at least hold on to, just to be able to feel comfortable! That's why I always keep a furry blanket availble in my car!
[Question for readers who are fuzzy fetishists] Are you mentally healthier than I am, and do you feel ok without fuzzies but you just enjoy even more being in them? Or are you suffering (at least a little bit) every night you sleep without them, as I would be? (that suffering is what I am calling addiction)
I only once ever let a wife come between me and my furs, in my very brief (less than a year) first marriage, when I was only 22 and still quite naive. I had always been told, including by my fiancée, that I had my "childish" fur/fuzzy fetish only because I was still a virgin, and that it would naturally fade away and I would outgrow it as soon as I finally experienced REAL sex, with my wife. Well, I quickly found out how wrong they all were!
My first wife insisted, on the night before our wedding, that I had to get rid of all the fuzzy sweaters I had on the morning of our wedding day, or she would not go through with the wedding! She only allowed me to keep my icelandic sheepskin fur rug and my mohair scarf. She further insisited that we must sleep between sheets with no fur in the bed. I NEVER got comfortable sleeping with her like that. But because she slept quite soundly and did not awaken when I left the bed to gp pee in the middle of the night, AND because she REQUIRED that I must bring her a fresh brewed cup of coffee every morning, to her still sleeping in bed, to wake her up, I quickly got in the habit of snuggling with my fur rug and fuzzy scarf on the couch every morning while her coffee was brewing. That made the night almost bearable, and made me at least able to get up and go to work.
(Back in my younger years, probably at least through my 20s, I thought I was literally incapable of falling asleep without furgasming, at least once, first, and I was further incapable of getting myself up out of bed, for anything other than just to go pee, but I could not get on with my day, until I had enough furgasms, and just one was never enough! Now THAT was addiction! Fuzzygasms were for me in the morning what coffiee was for my first wife.
In my 30s and 40s, I gradually matured, so that I learned that I could fall asleep without having to furgasm, and if absolutely necessary, I could get up and get on with my day, even if I had not managed to have any furgasms. However, I have made sure throughout my life that I have had to face that undesirable circumstance on only the fewest possible occasions!)
Since the end of that first marriage, every girlfriend/wife has had to accept that I always sleep in angora sweaters as pajamas, and on and under furs, or at least furry blankets, and if she wants to sleep with me, that is the way it will be. To my amazement, for most of my adult life, I have found partners who have been willing to sleep with me in that way, but usually they eventually developed resentment and said they thought the furs and angoras were more important to me than they were. The relationships always eventually ended over some other issue, mostly their jealousy of my other affectionate friendships, but that resentment of my fur fetish certainly contributed to our problems. I have always longed for and dreamed of having a partner who appreciates and enjoys the sensuousness of sleeping in furs and angoras as much as I do. But I was already in my 50s! before I finally found out on the internet that I was not the ONLY person in the world that feels this way about fur and angora.
Here is the dream I had at age 11 that started my lifelong long-hair and fuzzyness fetish!
DREAM
[This is the dream I had at age 11 (the wet-dream that began my puberty) that started my lifelong long-hair and fuzzyness fetish! (This was the only wet-dream I ever remember having!) The dream is not a fuzzy fantasy. It does not involve fuzzy sweaters or furs at all. In fact, the dream was a terrifying nightmare about a scary adventure, and only the later part involves long hair, but it was the final climax of the dream, in which I am surrounded head-to-toe in soft fluffyness, that brought on my first orgasm and led to my being totally attracted to fuzzyness the rest of my life.]
I dreamed I was a space explorer, on a solo mission exploring an uncharted sector of the galaxy in my one-man space ship. I noticed with interest that the star-system I was approaching had an earthlike planet with an atmosphere. As I started to enter orbit around the planet, my ship was hit by some kind of high-speed object. I did not know whether it was a chance hit by a tiny meteor or an intentional hit by a defense missile from the planet. Luckily for me, the ship was not totally destroyed. My cabin and life support systems were intact. Only the main engines and the radio were disabled, and I was knocked out of orbit and into the atmosphere, but I was able to manually maneuver to a survivable crash landing.
Once on the ground, I noticed my ship's oxygen recycling system had been destroyed in the crash landing, and with the radio out I could not call for help, so although I had survived the hit in orbit and the crash landing, the ship would still soon be my coffin if the planet's atmosphere does not contain sufficient oxygen. I was again lucky that my ship's atmosphere testing instruments still worked, and they showed that the atmosphere did contain sufficient oxygen. If it had not, I would have been a gonner! So for a moment, I breathed a little easier, but at the same time I was still worried, knowing that I just had to hope the atmosphere did not contain anything toxic that my sensors could not detect.
Next, I checked and found that the ship's water and food recycling systems were also destroyed, and I had no food or water. So then I knew my survival depended on being able to find food and water on the planet outside.
Knowing I needed to open the hatch and exit the ship to survive, but not knowing what dangers might be waiting right outside the door, I tried checking the video view screen to see what was outside, but the view screen no longer worked. I was frozen in terror. When I open the door, would I immediately be gobbled up by some man-eating creature? Or be shot dead on sight by defending soldiers who saw me as an invader rather than a friendly visitor? Or maybe there will be nothing out there, no life on the planet and no water, so I may still starve to death! And what if it is freezing cold or roasting hot out there? The ship's temperature sensors were not working and the temperature control system for my space suit was also destroyed. So I waited inside the disabled ship in my fear, until I knew I just had to open the door or die then inside because my air was running out.
As I opened the hatch, I was relieved that the air was fresh and the temperature felt comfortable. But the landscape looked totally barren. There was no visible life and no water in sight! To calm my panic, I had to remind myself that there were some desert areas on earth that look just like this. So I would just have to wander around out there and search and hope I find some water and life. At least I would have a fascinating exploring adventure of discovery for as long as I would manage to live.
I wandered for days, finding nothing but barren lifeless moonlike landscape. I finally exerted what felt like the last of my waning energy by climbing to the top of the tallest hill I could find, so I could see as far as possible into the distance in all directions. From the top, I saw that the horizon in one direction seemed to look darker and somehow different from everything else I saw. But it was so far away that I could not tell what it was. I would just have to hope that it is some kind of sign of life and walk to it to find out. Re-energized by my hope, I set off toward it, and I just hoped that my strength would hold out long enough so I could manage to make it there.
When I finally got close enough to see, I recognized that it was in fact life! A forest! I ran to it with energy I did not know I had left. When I got there, though, caution took over again. Would there be man-eating creatures in there? Or even man-eating plants? I was so hungry and thirsty, but was anything there safe to eat or drink or was it all poisonous? How could I ever tell which things are safe? Everything looked and smelled different from anything on earth.
I decided that I would search for animals, and if I found any, I would watch what they eat and drink. Then I would just have to hope that those things were not poisonous to me. Not seeing any animals, I just stood quietly and listened. All I heard was silence nearly as deep as that in the desert. Only the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. As far as I wandered in the forest, it was all the same. No sign or sound of animals and no recognizable edible plants.
As I continued wandering, becoming hopeless of finding any animals, I started wondering how I should decide which plant to try tasting first. Nothing smelled or looked in the least appetizing. I would just have to try my luck. I would either find something edible and survive, or I would die a possibly agonizing poisonous death. But if I did not try something soon, I would surely die of starvation and thirst.
As I stood there silently gazing at all the plants around me, bewildered, I suddenly couldn't believe my ears! I heard a sound! But not just any sound! Not the rustle of a small animal scurrying in the underbrush nor the thump of a giant animal walking. Not a growl nor a howl nor a hiss nor the call of a bird! But voices! Ever so faint, far, far in the distance. But I could almost swear it sounded like voices!
Just as I had when I first saw the forest, my energy again surged out of nowhere, and I ran as fast as I could toward the direction where I thought I heard the voices. As I got closer, I slowed and approached more cautiously and quietly, stopping frequently to listen intently to make sure I was proceeding in the right direction and to see what I could learn from what I heard. Before I was close enough to distinguish any words, I could tell that they were girls' voices. Then I approached even more cautiously, because I did not want to frighten them away and be left all alone again. When I got close enough to make out the words, I quietly hid behind a tree and listened in amazement. I could understand them! They were speaking English!
I could just barely see them through the leaves of the undergrowth when I peered around the tree trunk. There were six of them. They were in a small clearing next to a small stream (the first water I had seen on the planet). It looked like they were picnicking, and some were skinny dipping in the stream. Listening to their conversation, I gathered that they were friends out on a day's frolicking outing in the woods and they lived in a city on the other side of the forest.
They were all naked, but that was not particularly surprising to me since they were skinny dipping. But then I noticed that I did not see any clothes lying around. And one girl had a backpack on her naked back. It then finally occurred to me that they just might not wear clothes, as is true for many tribes back on earth.
They all had long hair, about waist-length. I noticed that their long hair was quite attractive to me, even while their naked bodies did not interest me at all.
Finally, I felt safe enough, and slowly, so as not to startle them, I came out from behind the tree and slowly began to walk toward them. I called out to them in as friendly a voice as I could manage in my hungry-thirsty exhaustion. "Hello! Can you help me? I am lost. I have been walking for days with nothing to eat or drink. I am friendly and mean you no harm. Can you please help me?"
To my surprise, they looked up at me with looks of mortal terror on their faces! They said, "Oh no! I can't believe what I'm seeing! It's one of them! What do we do now?! We have only heard of them in ancient history books and legends. We were told our planet has been rid of them for centuries. We never expected to have to actually see one in our lifetime! What should we do?!"
I said pleadingly, "No, please don't be afraid of me. I mean no harm! I am friendly! I just want to be friends and I need your help because I'm starving."
It quickly became apparent that they did not understand a word I was saying. They continued franticly, "What should we do now? We've been told they are terribly dangerous. That they try to invade us and conquer us and torture us and subjugate us and make us into slaves. We were told we would be able to recognize them because they have short-cut hair and they cover their bodies with cloth, and the most dangerous ones cover their bodies in metal. It must be one of them! It must be a male! And it must be a really dangerous one, because his body is covered in metallic cloth! But they told us they were bigger and taller and stronger than we are. This one looks weak and is no taller than we are. He must be just a scout. We must catch him and keep him from going back and bringing the big ones!"
With that, they all rushed at me and tackled me and piled on top of me. They laid me out spread-eagled on the ground, face up. One each sat on each of my arms and legs and one sat on my belly. I was thoroughly pinned down. One of them said, "Okay, now we have him securely pinned down so he can't harm us at the moment. But what do we do with him now? We can't just sit on him forever!"
Again, I cried pleadingly. "Please! You don't have to be scared of me! I'm friendly! Please just help me! I'm starving!" But they still could not understand what I was saying. It was like they couldn't even hear me, not even my crying pleading tone of voice. It also seemed like they did not know I could understand them. They never spoke to me. Just to each other.
Again they said, "So what should we do with him? We have never been trained what to do in a situation like this. There has never even been a situation like this in our lifetime, nor for many generations! All we have ever known is peacefulness and loving and joy. Our planet's whole society is set up for peaceful loving interactions. We have only heard of violence and danger from ancient history books and legends that we never believed were really true! Scary legends about ancient times when there supposedly used to be dangerous violent males among us on our planet." "I never believed those legends." "I didn't either." "I never even read any of those books. I never wanted to!"
"But now we are actually sitting on one! What should we do?! We can't just sit on him here forever!"
"We should take him to the Imperial Palace. Only the Empress can decide what to do with him. Only she is wise enough to figure out what to do about this kind of unthinkable unheard-of situation." "Yes, of course!" "Great idea!" But how do we make him go there with us? How do we make sure he does not get away from us and run back to the big ones as soon as we stop sitting on him?"
The sixth one, the only one who was not sitting on me, said, "I've studied the ancient legends very carefully. It's a big hobby of mine, but I never told any of you before, because I was afraid nobody would like me if they knew I was interested in that stuff. So anyway, I know what people used to do in these kinds of situations. We should tie him up with ropes. Tie his hands behind his back so he can't harm us, and tie his feet together so he can't run away."
"But if we tie his feet, he not only wouldn't be able to run away, but he won't be able to walk back to the palace with us either. We would have to carry him! I don't want to carry him!" "I don't either! How can we make sure he walks with us and doesn't run away?" "If we just tie him to us with ropes, that can make sure he doesn't run away, but he could also refuse to walk and still keep us from taking him to the palace unless we carry him. And he could try to find some way to hurt us, even though his hands are tied. He could try to kick us or trip us. How do we make him cooperate and walk with us?" "And what if there are others? Bigger ones!?"
"Okay, I have an idea from the most ancient legends. There used to be things people carried around with them that we don't even know about any more. Things that nobody has even thought about or wanted, much less actually had or used, since our peaceful society began many generations ago. These things were generically called 'weapons', and I know you're not going to believe this, because I can't believe it myself, it's just too crazy to even think about, but these things called weapons existed specifically so people could hurt each other! Even kill each other! When people wanted to control what other people did, they would threaten to use their weapons to hurt or kill the people they wanted to control. So now we need weapons to control him! Most weapons were complicated things that were hard to make and hard to learn how to use. So even if there were any around, we wouldn't be able to use them. But the most ancient weapons were simple to make and simple to use. They were just sticks with sharp pointy ends. They were called spears. Now I know this is going to sound super gross, but people would hurt or kill each other with the spears by sticking the pointy ends into them. The point would pierce through the skin and stick inside! The pointy ends were made by whittling the ends into points with their whittling knives. And they even used to have knives with pointy ends too!, not like our whittling knives that have blunt rounded safety ends and are just sharp on one side, just to whittle with. So, I'll go gather six long sticks while you keep sitting on him. When I bring the sticks back, we can whittle sharp points on them and make them into spears. Then, we'll point the spears at him and hold the points against his skin from all sides. The spears will be long enough that he will not be able to reach us to kick or trip us. If he tries to run away or tries to hurt any of us, the spear points will stick into him and kill him."
"That's a really gross but brilliant idea! I think it really can work! Go gather the sticks."
So that is what they did, sitting on me all the while that they whittled the points on the spears. When they finished the spears, the one who was standing pointed her spear into my neck to hold me there while the others got up off me.
Then they all pointed their spears at me as I lay there. They took my space suit off me, because they did not want it to protect me from their spears and they did not know if I had anything in it that I could harm them with. They said they would bring my suit back to the city and give it to the scholars to study. As I stood up, they kept their spear points pressed against the skin of my belly. When I was standing, they spread out all around me, each poking their spear point into my midriff gently but menacingly from 6 different directions. They definitely had me in a position where I had to walk with them. They did, at least, let me kneel down and drink from the stream as we crossed it. I forgot about my hunger, though, and was able to walk on despite it, because of all the terror-induced adrenaline coursing through my veins. With spear points poking at my skin, hunger just didn’t mean nearly as much.
As we walked back through the woods to the city, I no longer even tried to talk to them, knowing it would be useless, because they could not hear me. Instead, I wanted to listen to their conversation to learn as much as I could about them, but they said very little.
As we approached the city, though, I did learn, from seeing other people along the way, that in their society, in fact, nobody wore any clothes. And they were all, in fact, females. I also noticed, to my growing joy, that the hair on the grownup women was even longer than on these girls. Most women's hair hung down to their knees or below! I was enthralled!
When we finally got to the Imperial Palace, and they knocked on the giant door, it reminded me of the scene at the door of the Emerald Palace in “The Wizard of Oz.” When someone finally answered the door, the girls said "We need to see the Empress immediately! It's an emergency! We found a MALE lurking in the woods, and we brought him back here with us! The Empress must figure out what to do with him!"
The lady that answered the door said, "Oh dear, we do have a bit of a problem. You see, the Empress is away on vacation and will not be back for three weeks."
"Oh, NO!!!! She can't be gone for three weeks! What are we supposed to do with him until she gets back?"
"Well, I guess you'd better come on in and find somewhere here in the Palace to keep him safely and securely out of trouble until she gets back."
"But where can we do that? According to the history books and legends, in the ancient times there were dungeons and prison cells where dangerous people could be locked up. But in our peaceful society there are not even any lockable doors anymore! Not even in this Palace! We only waited outside for you to answer the door due to custom and etiquette. Where can we put him so we don't have to keep guarding him with these spears? We can't just stand around guarding him for the next three weeks! We have classes that we have to attend, and we have important fun things planned that we have to do with our lives, too."
"Maybe we should just run him through with our spears right now, so we won't have to worry about him any more!"
"No! We can't do that! That would make us as bad as them!"
“Oh no, we couldn’t have you doing anything like that!” the lady at the door said. "Just bring him in, girls, and I will show you a place where he can he kept securely." As she led us through the halls of the Palace, she tried to explain to the girls why there is a place in the Palace where I could be kept safely that they did not know about.
"As you know, in our society, we revere our hair as sacred. Not only do we never cut our hair, but we do not ever throw away the hair that comes off in our combs. We save it and use it to make blankets or stuff pillows or whatever."
"As you also know, our social status is shown by how long our hair grows. Thus, the Noble women that live here in the Palace have the longest hair of all."
To my delight, I was able to observe the truth of what she was saying. The women in the Palace had hair so long that it dragged on the floor behind them as they walked down the halls! I adored seeing them! And I could hardly wait to see how long the Empress’s hair was! If hair length reflects social status in this society, then just imagine long HER hair must be!
The lady continued explaining, “Well here in the Palace, we don’t even use the loose hairs from our combs to make things. By long-standing tradition, we just collect it, and have been collecting it for centuries. And since our royal hair grows faster than anyone else’s, we have even more to collect.”
“So where do you collect all this hair?”
“Right in there!” she said pointing into a large alcove (a room 4 meters square and equally high with no separating wall) that opened off the side of the hallway. Filling the alcove, was a giant spherical cloth bag (looking a little bit like a giant version of Santa’s toy bag), at least 3 meters in diameter, cinched closed at the top with a cord. “All the loose hair from the combs of everyone who has ever lived in the Palace is in that bag. And, of course, the bag and the cord are themselves woven from hair. As the bag fills up over the years, we have to weave more on to it to keep holding all the hair.”
“Well, this is all very interesting, but when are you going to show us where to put him, to keep him securely, so we wouldn’t have to keep guarding him?”
“That is what I’m showing you now. You can keep him secured by putting him in that giant bag of hair. The bag is made of a very strong material (stronger than denim but softer than cashmere) that he could never tear nor scratch through. To climb up there to put him in, you can use that ladder that is kept next to the bag to allow new hairs to be added to the bag. Let his head stick out so he can breathe, but cinch the top around his neck, not so tight as to choke him, but tightly enough that he can not even get his hand out, much less get his body out. The bag is so full and heavy that he won’t be able to move it, no matter how much he wriggles or tries to jump. He will be floating in so much fluffy hair that his feet will never even be able to touch the floor. Then you can just leave him there and go on with your lives. I’ll keep an eye on him every so often until the Empress returns.”
“What a brilliant idea! Let’s do it!”
As they lowered my naked body into the bag full of fluffy hair, I noticed with delighted surprise how exquisitely soft and fluffy it was! Not at all scratchy or itchy, like human hairs might be, but instead it was total silky softness, just like angora fluff! I was literally floating in a heaven of soft furry fluff! I joyously nuzzled my face into the fluff sticking up around it, coming out of where the bag was cinched around my neck. I waved my arms and legs around in the fluff and felt it gently caress every inch of my body. I wrapped my arms around as much of the fluff as I could grab, and hugged it to me, and ecstatically rubbed it against myself.
Before I was put in the fluffy hair bag, while the girls were still poking me with their spears, I was constantly worrying about what would become of me. Would I survive until the Empress returned? Would anyone let me have anything to eat? And once she did return, would she have me killed or let me live? And if she let me live, would I be welcomed as a guest in their land, or would I be imprisoned or banished back to the wastelands? Could I stand the suspense of my uncertain fate that long?
But after I began blissfully floating engulfed head-to-toe in the bag of fluff, my fears and worries disappeared. I felt so yummy, I didn’t care if the Empress ever came back. I was quite happy to stay right where I was forever! And even if the worst were to happen, and the Empress were to decide to have me killed, well at least I got to experience this for now.
But the people in the Palace gave me good reason to believe the worst would not happen. They did not act afraid of me as the girls had been. They knew that because I was securely cinched in the hair bag I could do them no harm. So they treated me more like an exotic zoo animal, with curiosity and affection. They enjoyed feeding me, just for the fun of it. And as they paraded up and down the hall in front of me (just doing their daily business, of course), with their exquisitely long hair flowing behind them, they seemed to notice and enjoyed seeing how much I enjoyed watching them. Sometimes I would even see one of them give their head a quick little flick as they walked past me, to send a little wave floating enticingly down the length of their long flowing hair. They would also drape their hair over their arms so it would hang like a toga when their arms were outstretched, or wrap it around their bodies like a stole or cape. And it seemed to me that they continued coming up with more creative and alluring ways to wear their hair the longer I was there to watch and enjoy it.
I noticed that the more of their body they wrapped and covered in their fluffy, long flowing hair, the more they turned me on. The ones who were totally naked, with just a long braid trailing behind, did little for me. But the ones totally enveloped in their long flowing fluffy hair, so that little or no skin showed, drove me absolutely wild!
My joy and excitement just grew and grew. I was noticing delicious feelings I had never before even imagined might exist. Until finally, the ecstatic erotic excitement of being totally engulfed head-to-toe in soft fluffyness finally pushed me over the edge, and the dream ended (before the Empress ever got back) by my waking up while having the very first orgasm in my life.
(From that moment on, for the rest of my life, my sexuality has been totally focused on being as totally as possible engulfed, wrapped, caressed, head-to-toe in soft fluffyness. I can appreciate skin and body parts, the naked human form, both female and male, as interesting and enjoyable to see, and to touch when requested, more in the way of appreciating great art. But for me, real orgasmic sexual turn-on comes only from being totally wrapped in and lovingly rubbed with soft fluffy furryness. I now believe that this is all because, in that dream, I was experiencing terror and mortal danger all the time I was seeing the naked girls’ and women’s bodies. While I did feel some excitement at seeing the long hair, that excitement was always overtaken by more fears and dangers. I only felt safety and relaxation and enjoyment and satisfaction after I was safely and securely engulfed in the soft fluff.)
[Explanation of the dream in the context of my real life at the time I had the dream.
I had the dream while I was in the 6th grade. During the summer between the 5th and 6th grades, my family moved from Ohio, where I had grown up since the 1st grade, to Massachusetts. So I litterally felt like a stranger in a strange land. So the dream reflected and elaborated on that feeling. In my 6th grade classroom, the girl sitting in the desk in front of me had waste-length long hair, which I found captivating. And the back of her desk chair was right up against the front of my desk. Although we never became close friends, she was the only girl in the class who did not actively avoid me. I managed to gain her trust enough that she allowed me to play gently and respectfully with her hair on my desk. So she is why the dream was about girls with long hair.]
[This is the dream I had at age 11 (the wet-dream that began my puberty) that started my lifelong long-hair and fuzzyness fetish! (This was the only wet-dream I ever remember having!) The dream is not a fuzzy fantasy. It does not involve fuzzy sweaters or furs at all. In fact, the dream was a terrifying nightmare about a scary adventure, and only the later part involves long hair, but it was the final climax of the dream, in which I am surrounded head-to-toe in soft fluffyness, that brought on my first orgasm and led to my being totally attracted to fuzzyness the rest of my life.]
I dreamed I was a space explorer, on a solo mission exploring an uncharted sector of the galaxy in my one-man space ship. I noticed with interest that the star-system I was approaching had an earthlike planet with an atmosphere. As I started to enter orbit around the planet, my ship was hit by some kind of high-speed object. I did not know whether it was a chance hit by a tiny meteor or an intentional hit by a defense missile from the planet. Luckily for me, the ship was not totally destroyed. My cabin and life support systems were intact. Only the main engines and the radio were disabled, and I was knocked out of orbit and into the atmosphere, but I was able to manually maneuver to a survivable crash landing.
Once on the ground, I noticed my ship's oxygen recycling system had been destroyed in the crash landing, and with the radio out I could not call for help, so although I had survived the hit in orbit and the crash landing, the ship would still soon be my coffin if the planet's atmosphere does not contain sufficient oxygen. I was again lucky that my ship's atmosphere testing instruments still worked, and they showed that the atmosphere did contain sufficient oxygen. If it had not, I would have been a gonner! So for a moment, I breathed a little easier, but at the same time I was still worried, knowing that I just had to hope the atmosphere did not contain anything toxic that my sensors could not detect.
Next, I checked and found that the ship's water and food recycling systems were also destroyed, and I had no food or water. So then I knew my survival depended on being able to find food and water on the planet outside.
Knowing I needed to open the hatch and exit the ship to survive, but not knowing what dangers might be waiting right outside the door, I tried checking the video view screen to see what was outside, but the view screen no longer worked. I was frozen in terror. When I open the door, would I immediately be gobbled up by some man-eating creature? Or be shot dead on sight by defending soldiers who saw me as an invader rather than a friendly visitor? Or maybe there will be nothing out there, no life on the planet and no water, so I may still starve to death! And what if it is freezing cold or roasting hot out there? The ship's temperature sensors were not working and the temperature control system for my space suit was also destroyed. So I waited inside the disabled ship in my fear, until I knew I just had to open the door or die then inside because my air was running out.
As I opened the hatch, I was relieved that the air was fresh and the temperature felt comfortable. But the landscape looked totally barren. There was no visible life and no water in sight! To calm my panic, I had to remind myself that there were some desert areas on earth that look just like this. So I would just have to wander around out there and search and hope I find some water and life. At least I would have a fascinating exploring adventure of discovery for as long as I would manage to live.
I wandered for days, finding nothing but barren lifeless moonlike landscape. I finally exerted what felt like the last of my waning energy by climbing to the top of the tallest hill I could find, so I could see as far as possible into the distance in all directions. From the top, I saw that the horizon in one direction seemed to look darker and somehow different from everything else I saw. But it was so far away that I could not tell what it was. I would just have to hope that it is some kind of sign of life and walk to it to find out. Re-energized by my hope, I set off toward it, and I just hoped that my strength would hold out long enough so I could manage to make it there.
When I finally got close enough to see, I recognized that it was in fact life! A forest! I ran to it with energy I did not know I had left. When I got there, though, caution took over again. Would there be man-eating creatures in there? Or even man-eating plants? I was so hungry and thirsty, but was anything there safe to eat or drink or was it all poisonous? How could I ever tell which things are safe? Everything looked and smelled different from anything on earth.
I decided that I would search for animals, and if I found any, I would watch what they eat and drink. Then I would just have to hope that those things were not poisonous to me. Not seeing any animals, I just stood quietly and listened. All I heard was silence nearly as deep as that in the desert. Only the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze. As far as I wandered in the forest, it was all the same. No sign or sound of animals and no recognizable edible plants.
As I continued wandering, becoming hopeless of finding any animals, I started wondering how I should decide which plant to try tasting first. Nothing smelled or looked in the least appetizing. I would just have to try my luck. I would either find something edible and survive, or I would die a possibly agonizing poisonous death. But if I did not try something soon, I would surely die of starvation and thirst.
As I stood there silently gazing at all the plants around me, bewildered, I suddenly couldn't believe my ears! I heard a sound! But not just any sound! Not the rustle of a small animal scurrying in the underbrush nor the thump of a giant animal walking. Not a growl nor a howl nor a hiss nor the call of a bird! But voices! Ever so faint, far, far in the distance. But I could almost swear it sounded like voices!
Just as I had when I first saw the forest, my energy again surged out of nowhere, and I ran as fast as I could toward the direction where I thought I heard the voices. As I got closer, I slowed and approached more cautiously and quietly, stopping frequently to listen intently to make sure I was proceeding in the right direction and to see what I could learn from what I heard. Before I was close enough to distinguish any words, I could tell that they were girls' voices. Then I approached even more cautiously, because I did not want to frighten them away and be left all alone again. When I got close enough to make out the words, I quietly hid behind a tree and listened in amazement. I could understand them! They were speaking English!
I could just barely see them through the leaves of the undergrowth when I peered around the tree trunk. There were six of them. They were in a small clearing next to a small stream (the first water I had seen on the planet). It looked like they were picnicking, and some were skinny dipping in the stream. Listening to their conversation, I gathered that they were friends out on a day's frolicking outing in the woods and they lived in a city on the other side of the forest.
They were all naked, but that was not particularly surprising to me since they were skinny dipping. But then I noticed that I did not see any clothes lying around. And one girl had a backpack on her naked back. It then finally occurred to me that they just might not wear clothes, as is true for many tribes back on earth.
They all had long hair, about waist-length. I noticed that their long hair was quite attractive to me, even while their naked bodies did not interest me at all.
Finally, I felt safe enough, and slowly, so as not to startle them, I came out from behind the tree and slowly began to walk toward them. I called out to them in as friendly a voice as I could manage in my hungry-thirsty exhaustion. "Hello! Can you help me? I am lost. I have been walking for days with nothing to eat or drink. I am friendly and mean you no harm. Can you please help me?"
To my surprise, they looked up at me with looks of mortal terror on their faces! They said, "Oh no! I can't believe what I'm seeing! It's one of them! What do we do now?! We have only heard of them in ancient history books and legends. We were told our planet has been rid of them for centuries. We never expected to have to actually see one in our lifetime! What should we do?!"
I said pleadingly, "No, please don't be afraid of me. I mean no harm! I am friendly! I just want to be friends and I need your help because I'm starving."
It quickly became apparent that they did not understand a word I was saying. They continued franticly, "What should we do now? We've been told they are terribly dangerous. That they try to invade us and conquer us and torture us and subjugate us and make us into slaves. We were told we would be able to recognize them because they have short-cut hair and they cover their bodies with cloth, and the most dangerous ones cover their bodies in metal. It must be one of them! It must be a male! And it must be a really dangerous one, because his body is covered in metallic cloth! But they told us they were bigger and taller and stronger than we are. This one looks weak and is no taller than we are. He must be just a scout. We must catch him and keep him from going back and bringing the big ones!"
With that, they all rushed at me and tackled me and piled on top of me. They laid me out spread-eagled on the ground, face up. One each sat on each of my arms and legs and one sat on my belly. I was thoroughly pinned down. One of them said, "Okay, now we have him securely pinned down so he can't harm us at the moment. But what do we do with him now? We can't just sit on him forever!"
Again, I cried pleadingly. "Please! You don't have to be scared of me! I'm friendly! Please just help me! I'm starving!" But they still could not understand what I was saying. It was like they couldn't even hear me, not even my crying pleading tone of voice. It also seemed like they did not know I could understand them. They never spoke to me. Just to each other.
Again they said, "So what should we do with him? We have never been trained what to do in a situation like this. There has never even been a situation like this in our lifetime, nor for many generations! All we have ever known is peacefulness and loving and joy. Our planet's whole society is set up for peaceful loving interactions. We have only heard of violence and danger from ancient history books and legends that we never believed were really true! Scary legends about ancient times when there supposedly used to be dangerous violent males among us on our planet." "I never believed those legends." "I didn't either." "I never even read any of those books. I never wanted to!"
"But now we are actually sitting on one! What should we do?! We can't just sit on him here forever!"
"We should take him to the Imperial Palace. Only the Empress can decide what to do with him. Only she is wise enough to figure out what to do about this kind of unthinkable unheard-of situation." "Yes, of course!" "Great idea!" But how do we make him go there with us? How do we make sure he does not get away from us and run back to the big ones as soon as we stop sitting on him?"
The sixth one, the only one who was not sitting on me, said, "I've studied the ancient legends very carefully. It's a big hobby of mine, but I never told any of you before, because I was afraid nobody would like me if they knew I was interested in that stuff. So anyway, I know what people used to do in these kinds of situations. We should tie him up with ropes. Tie his hands behind his back so he can't harm us, and tie his feet together so he can't run away."
"But if we tie his feet, he not only wouldn't be able to run away, but he won't be able to walk back to the palace with us either. We would have to carry him! I don't want to carry him!" "I don't either! How can we make sure he walks with us and doesn't run away?" "If we just tie him to us with ropes, that can make sure he doesn't run away, but he could also refuse to walk and still keep us from taking him to the palace unless we carry him. And he could try to find some way to hurt us, even though his hands are tied. He could try to kick us or trip us. How do we make him cooperate and walk with us?" "And what if there are others? Bigger ones!?"
"Okay, I have an idea from the most ancient legends. There used to be things people carried around with them that we don't even know about any more. Things that nobody has even thought about or wanted, much less actually had or used, since our peaceful society began many generations ago. These things were generically called 'weapons', and I know you're not going to believe this, because I can't believe it myself, it's just too crazy to even think about, but these things called weapons existed specifically so people could hurt each other! Even kill each other! When people wanted to control what other people did, they would threaten to use their weapons to hurt or kill the people they wanted to control. So now we need weapons to control him! Most weapons were complicated things that were hard to make and hard to learn how to use. So even if there were any around, we wouldn't be able to use them. But the most ancient weapons were simple to make and simple to use. They were just sticks with sharp pointy ends. They were called spears. Now I know this is going to sound super gross, but people would hurt or kill each other with the spears by sticking the pointy ends into them. The point would pierce through the skin and stick inside! The pointy ends were made by whittling the ends into points with their whittling knives. And they even used to have knives with pointy ends too!, not like our whittling knives that have blunt rounded safety ends and are just sharp on one side, just to whittle with. So, I'll go gather six long sticks while you keep sitting on him. When I bring the sticks back, we can whittle sharp points on them and make them into spears. Then, we'll point the spears at him and hold the points against his skin from all sides. The spears will be long enough that he will not be able to reach us to kick or trip us. If he tries to run away or tries to hurt any of us, the spear points will stick into him and kill him."
"That's a really gross but brilliant idea! I think it really can work! Go gather the sticks."
So that is what they did, sitting on me all the while that they whittled the points on the spears. When they finished the spears, the one who was standing pointed her spear into my neck to hold me there while the others got up off me.
Then they all pointed their spears at me as I lay there. They took my space suit off me, because they did not want it to protect me from their spears and they did not know if I had anything in it that I could harm them with. They said they would bring my suit back to the city and give it to the scholars to study. As I stood up, they kept their spear points pressed against the skin of my belly. When I was standing, they spread out all around me, each poking their spear point into my midriff gently but menacingly from 6 different directions. They definitely had me in a position where I had to walk with them. They did, at least, let me kneel down and drink from the stream as we crossed it. I forgot about my hunger, though, and was able to walk on despite it, because of all the terror-induced adrenaline coursing through my veins. With spear points poking at my skin, hunger just didn’t mean nearly as much.
As we walked back through the woods to the city, I no longer even tried to talk to them, knowing it would be useless, because they could not hear me. Instead, I wanted to listen to their conversation to learn as much as I could about them, but they said very little.
As we approached the city, though, I did learn, from seeing other people along the way, that in their society, in fact, nobody wore any clothes. And they were all, in fact, females. I also noticed, to my growing joy, that the hair on the grownup women was even longer than on these girls. Most women's hair hung down to their knees or below! I was enthralled!
When we finally got to the Imperial Palace, and they knocked on the giant door, it reminded me of the scene at the door of the Emerald Palace in “The Wizard of Oz.” When someone finally answered the door, the girls said "We need to see the Empress immediately! It's an emergency! We found a MALE lurking in the woods, and we brought him back here with us! The Empress must figure out what to do with him!"
The lady that answered the door said, "Oh dear, we do have a bit of a problem. You see, the Empress is away on vacation and will not be back for three weeks."
"Oh, NO!!!! She can't be gone for three weeks! What are we supposed to do with him until she gets back?"
"Well, I guess you'd better come on in and find somewhere here in the Palace to keep him safely and securely out of trouble until she gets back."
"But where can we do that? According to the history books and legends, in the ancient times there were dungeons and prison cells where dangerous people could be locked up. But in our peaceful society there are not even any lockable doors anymore! Not even in this Palace! We only waited outside for you to answer the door due to custom and etiquette. Where can we put him so we don't have to keep guarding him with these spears? We can't just stand around guarding him for the next three weeks! We have classes that we have to attend, and we have important fun things planned that we have to do with our lives, too."
"Maybe we should just run him through with our spears right now, so we won't have to worry about him any more!"
"No! We can't do that! That would make us as bad as them!"
“Oh no, we couldn’t have you doing anything like that!” the lady at the door said. "Just bring him in, girls, and I will show you a place where he can he kept securely." As she led us through the halls of the Palace, she tried to explain to the girls why there is a place in the Palace where I could be kept safely that they did not know about.
"As you know, in our society, we revere our hair as sacred. Not only do we never cut our hair, but we do not ever throw away the hair that comes off in our combs. We save it and use it to make blankets or stuff pillows or whatever."
"As you also know, our social status is shown by how long our hair grows. Thus, the Noble women that live here in the Palace have the longest hair of all."
To my delight, I was able to observe the truth of what she was saying. The women in the Palace had hair so long that it dragged on the floor behind them as they walked down the halls! I adored seeing them! And I could hardly wait to see how long the Empress’s hair was! If hair length reflects social status in this society, then just imagine long HER hair must be!
The lady continued explaining, “Well here in the Palace, we don’t even use the loose hairs from our combs to make things. By long-standing tradition, we just collect it, and have been collecting it for centuries. And since our royal hair grows faster than anyone else’s, we have even more to collect.”
“So where do you collect all this hair?”
“Right in there!” she said pointing into a large alcove (a room 4 meters square and equally high with no separating wall) that opened off the side of the hallway. Filling the alcove, was a giant spherical cloth bag (looking a little bit like a giant version of Santa’s toy bag), at least 3 meters in diameter, cinched closed at the top with a cord. “All the loose hair from the combs of everyone who has ever lived in the Palace is in that bag. And, of course, the bag and the cord are themselves woven from hair. As the bag fills up over the years, we have to weave more on to it to keep holding all the hair.”
“Well, this is all very interesting, but when are you going to show us where to put him, to keep him securely, so we wouldn’t have to keep guarding him?”
“That is what I’m showing you now. You can keep him secured by putting him in that giant bag of hair. The bag is made of a very strong material (stronger than denim but softer than cashmere) that he could never tear nor scratch through. To climb up there to put him in, you can use that ladder that is kept next to the bag to allow new hairs to be added to the bag. Let his head stick out so he can breathe, but cinch the top around his neck, not so tight as to choke him, but tightly enough that he can not even get his hand out, much less get his body out. The bag is so full and heavy that he won’t be able to move it, no matter how much he wriggles or tries to jump. He will be floating in so much fluffy hair that his feet will never even be able to touch the floor. Then you can just leave him there and go on with your lives. I’ll keep an eye on him every so often until the Empress returns.”
“What a brilliant idea! Let’s do it!”
As they lowered my naked body into the bag full of fluffy hair, I noticed with delighted surprise how exquisitely soft and fluffy it was! Not at all scratchy or itchy, like human hairs might be, but instead it was total silky softness, just like angora fluff! I was literally floating in a heaven of soft furry fluff! I joyously nuzzled my face into the fluff sticking up around it, coming out of where the bag was cinched around my neck. I waved my arms and legs around in the fluff and felt it gently caress every inch of my body. I wrapped my arms around as much of the fluff as I could grab, and hugged it to me, and ecstatically rubbed it against myself.
Before I was put in the fluffy hair bag, while the girls were still poking me with their spears, I was constantly worrying about what would become of me. Would I survive until the Empress returned? Would anyone let me have anything to eat? And once she did return, would she have me killed or let me live? And if she let me live, would I be welcomed as a guest in their land, or would I be imprisoned or banished back to the wastelands? Could I stand the suspense of my uncertain fate that long?
But after I began blissfully floating engulfed head-to-toe in the bag of fluff, my fears and worries disappeared. I felt so yummy, I didn’t care if the Empress ever came back. I was quite happy to stay right where I was forever! And even if the worst were to happen, and the Empress were to decide to have me killed, well at least I got to experience this for now.
But the people in the Palace gave me good reason to believe the worst would not happen. They did not act afraid of me as the girls had been. They knew that because I was securely cinched in the hair bag I could do them no harm. So they treated me more like an exotic zoo animal, with curiosity and affection. They enjoyed feeding me, just for the fun of it. And as they paraded up and down the hall in front of me (just doing their daily business, of course), with their exquisitely long hair flowing behind them, they seemed to notice and enjoyed seeing how much I enjoyed watching them. Sometimes I would even see one of them give their head a quick little flick as they walked past me, to send a little wave floating enticingly down the length of their long flowing hair. They would also drape their hair over their arms so it would hang like a toga when their arms were outstretched, or wrap it around their bodies like a stole or cape. And it seemed to me that they continued coming up with more creative and alluring ways to wear their hair the longer I was there to watch and enjoy it.
I noticed that the more of their body they wrapped and covered in their fluffy, long flowing hair, the more they turned me on. The ones who were totally naked, with just a long braid trailing behind, did little for me. But the ones totally enveloped in their long flowing fluffy hair, so that little or no skin showed, drove me absolutely wild!
My joy and excitement just grew and grew. I was noticing delicious feelings I had never before even imagined might exist. Until finally, the ecstatic erotic excitement of being totally engulfed head-to-toe in soft fluffyness finally pushed me over the edge, and the dream ended (before the Empress ever got back) by my waking up while having the very first orgasm in my life.
(From that moment on, for the rest of my life, my sexuality has been totally focused on being as totally as possible engulfed, wrapped, caressed, head-to-toe in soft fluffyness. I can appreciate skin and body parts, the naked human form, both female and male, as interesting and enjoyable to see, and to touch when requested, more in the way of appreciating great art. But for me, real orgasmic sexual turn-on comes only from being totally wrapped in and lovingly rubbed with soft fluffy furryness. I now believe that this is all because, in that dream, I was experiencing terror and mortal danger all the time I was seeing the naked girls’ and women’s bodies. While I did feel some excitement at seeing the long hair, that excitement was always overtaken by more fears and dangers. I only felt safety and relaxation and enjoyment and satisfaction after I was safely and securely engulfed in the soft fluff.)
[Explanation of the dream in the context of my real life at the time I had the dream.
I had the dream while I was in the 6th grade. During the summer between the 5th and 6th grades, my family moved from Ohio, where I had grown up since the 1st grade, to Massachusetts. So I litterally felt like a stranger in a strange land. So the dream reflected and elaborated on that feeling. In my 6th grade classroom, the girl sitting in the desk in front of me had waste-length long hair, which I found captivating. And the back of her desk chair was right up against the front of my desk. Although we never became close friends, she was the only girl in the class who did not actively avoid me. I managed to gain her trust enough that she allowed me to play gently and respectfully with her hair on my desk. So she is why the dream was about girls with long hair.]
MY FANTASY FURRY OCTOPUS FROM OUTER SPACE
My greatest sexual fantasy is that a soft fluffy furry space creature comes to find me on Earth, because it has psychically picked up my deep desire to be wrapped all over in soft fluffy furryness, and therefore it senses that we are intergalactic soulmates. It has been traveling around the Universe trying to find somebody who will really appreciate its soft fluffy furryness and commune with it deeply. But everyone it has met thus far has just found it laughable and not taken it seriously, neither appreciating its fluffyness nor its wisdom. Then it finally found itself close enough to our star system to sense my lifelong yearning for endless fluffy orgasmic communion, and recognized our compatibility, and headed straight to Earth to find me.
It looks like a super-fluffy furry octopus, but it can have as many tentacles as it wants at any moment. Each tentacle is a different soft fluffy fur: chinchilla, alpaca, sable, fox, opossum, angora, and other furs even softer and fluffier than any on earth, and each tentacle can be as thick and strong or as slender and delicate as it wants, and each tentacle branches out into smaller tentacles. It finds me asleep in my furry bed, and slithers in with me and wraps itself all around me. I awaken in gleeful surprise to being wrapped and rubbed all over in the softest fluffiest furryness I could ever imagine. Fluffy tentacles each wrap spiraled around the full length of each arm and leg, while branch tentacles wrap each finger and toe. The spiral-wrapped fluffy tentacles wriggle and rub me rhythmically, driving me wild! A pair of extra-wide, super fluffy tentacles wrap around my back, holding me firmly up against its soft, fluffy plushy cushy body. Another tentacle wraps lusciously and delicately around my neck and head and face, and sticks its tip into my mouth, like an eager tongue/penis, which I eagerly constantly suck on deeply. Thin branch tentacles delicately poke in and play with my ears and nostrils, while another slender one delicately pokes in and plays with my anus. My penis is sucked deeply and firmly into its eager hungry fur-lined mouth/vagina, while its furry tongue-tentacle inside its mouth/vagina, wraps and pulls and plays with the full length of my shaft. It sucks me to endlessly repeated orgasms! It orgasms by experiencing my orgasms, while I'm sucking on it's penis/tongue/tentacle. The more delicious and ecstatic my orgasm is, the better its is, so it keeps continually being creative to find ways to turn me on even more. It considers creating fluffy orgasmic ecstasy to be its highest form of art, and continually joyously labors, like any great artist, to create greater and greater masterpieces. I am its grateful canvas, its clay, the medium it uses, the instrument it plays, with which it works to create its fluffy orgasmic artwork.
It pays attention to every detail to satisfy my every need and desire, to maximize my ecstasy and the frequency of our mutual orgasms. Because it knows I need to breathe fresh cool air while my face is nuzzled and wrapped in thick soft fluffyness, the little fuzzy tentacles that play inside my nostrils breathe cool fresh air into my nose, scented, of course, with the musky crotch smell that turns me on so wildly. Because it knows that I can overheat and get too sweaty from too many orgasms wrapped too tightly in thick fur, and that the overheating and sweaty wetness would make me uncomfortable and lose my libido, in order to avoid me overheating, the tentacles that wrap my arms and legs can let cool air in between the spirals to let my hot skin cool off, while still always feeling totally fluffy.
The slender tentacle/tongue/penis that it sticks into my mouth for me to enjoy sucking on also squirts an endless variety of delicious flavors into my mouth with each orgasm, like chocolate syrup, and many others that are so much more delicious than I could ever have imagined. These are not only syrups, but every kind of yummy food I could ever want. And they fully meet all my nutritional needs and completely fulfill all my appetites and thirsts without ever making me feel bloated.
Keeping me forever wrapped up in its fluffyness, it takes me with it on its eternal tour of all the interesting planets in the Universe, starting of course with seeing all the beauties and wonders of Earth, from the bottom of the deepest ocean trench to the top of Mount Everest. It of course lets me see by making just enough space to see through between the spirals of fluffy tentacle nestling my face. All through the eternal tour, it keeps me constantly wrapped and stimulatingly rubbed in its fluffyness so we are continually repeatedly orgasming forever.
We are always looking for others to join in and share our ecstatic communion. But willing sharers are inexplicably hard to find. When we do find others willing to join us, it just wraps them in additional furry tentacles. We each can embrace and make love to each other through the soft fluffy furryness, and we all can enjoy sharing and experiencing the additional orgasms that each additional lover adds to our ecstatic furrygasmic menage.
It looks like a super-fluffy furry octopus, but it can have as many tentacles as it wants at any moment. Each tentacle is a different soft fluffy fur: chinchilla, alpaca, sable, fox, opossum, angora, and other furs even softer and fluffier than any on earth, and each tentacle can be as thick and strong or as slender and delicate as it wants, and each tentacle branches out into smaller tentacles. It finds me asleep in my furry bed, and slithers in with me and wraps itself all around me. I awaken in gleeful surprise to being wrapped and rubbed all over in the softest fluffiest furryness I could ever imagine. Fluffy tentacles each wrap spiraled around the full length of each arm and leg, while branch tentacles wrap each finger and toe. The spiral-wrapped fluffy tentacles wriggle and rub me rhythmically, driving me wild! A pair of extra-wide, super fluffy tentacles wrap around my back, holding me firmly up against its soft, fluffy plushy cushy body. Another tentacle wraps lusciously and delicately around my neck and head and face, and sticks its tip into my mouth, like an eager tongue/penis, which I eagerly constantly suck on deeply. Thin branch tentacles delicately poke in and play with my ears and nostrils, while another slender one delicately pokes in and plays with my anus. My penis is sucked deeply and firmly into its eager hungry fur-lined mouth/vagina, while its furry tongue-tentacle inside its mouth/vagina, wraps and pulls and plays with the full length of my shaft. It sucks me to endlessly repeated orgasms! It orgasms by experiencing my orgasms, while I'm sucking on it's penis/tongue/tentacle. The more delicious and ecstatic my orgasm is, the better its is, so it keeps continually being creative to find ways to turn me on even more. It considers creating fluffy orgasmic ecstasy to be its highest form of art, and continually joyously labors, like any great artist, to create greater and greater masterpieces. I am its grateful canvas, its clay, the medium it uses, the instrument it plays, with which it works to create its fluffy orgasmic artwork.
It pays attention to every detail to satisfy my every need and desire, to maximize my ecstasy and the frequency of our mutual orgasms. Because it knows I need to breathe fresh cool air while my face is nuzzled and wrapped in thick soft fluffyness, the little fuzzy tentacles that play inside my nostrils breathe cool fresh air into my nose, scented, of course, with the musky crotch smell that turns me on so wildly. Because it knows that I can overheat and get too sweaty from too many orgasms wrapped too tightly in thick fur, and that the overheating and sweaty wetness would make me uncomfortable and lose my libido, in order to avoid me overheating, the tentacles that wrap my arms and legs can let cool air in between the spirals to let my hot skin cool off, while still always feeling totally fluffy.
The slender tentacle/tongue/penis that it sticks into my mouth for me to enjoy sucking on also squirts an endless variety of delicious flavors into my mouth with each orgasm, like chocolate syrup, and many others that are so much more delicious than I could ever have imagined. These are not only syrups, but every kind of yummy food I could ever want. And they fully meet all my nutritional needs and completely fulfill all my appetites and thirsts without ever making me feel bloated.
Keeping me forever wrapped up in its fluffyness, it takes me with it on its eternal tour of all the interesting planets in the Universe, starting of course with seeing all the beauties and wonders of Earth, from the bottom of the deepest ocean trench to the top of Mount Everest. It of course lets me see by making just enough space to see through between the spirals of fluffy tentacle nestling my face. All through the eternal tour, it keeps me constantly wrapped and stimulatingly rubbed in its fluffyness so we are continually repeatedly orgasming forever.
We are always looking for others to join in and share our ecstatic communion. But willing sharers are inexplicably hard to find. When we do find others willing to join us, it just wraps them in additional furry tentacles. We each can embrace and make love to each other through the soft fluffy furryness, and we all can enjoy sharing and experiencing the additional orgasms that each additional lover adds to our ecstatic furrygasmic menage.
COLLARS FANTASY
I hope you will enjoy hearing a unique lifelong (well, post-puberty life, anyway) fantasy I have had that I have not told anyone about before, because I did not know anyone who would really appreciate it and enjoy it.
The fantasy is an angora sweater that has an extra long large thick fluffy turtleneck collar coming out from the breasts! (as well as an enormous cowl collar at the neck). The sweater is worn by a woman with large, milk-giving breasts. It is layered over an extra-fluffy turtleneck angora sweater that has small cowl collars surrounding but exposing the nipple of each breast! The enormous turtleneck collar at the neck of the inner sweater is so long that it is completely covering the face and head of the woman wearing it, while it is still doubled over! I, of course, am wearing a complete angora bodysuit that covers both my hands and feet, with a huge fluffy turtleneck collar that comes up and caresses my chin and ears, but my face and head do stick out of it. It also has a small 'lower' turtleneck collar that is long enough to completely cover the length of my erect penis while the collar is doubled over. Her angora pants also have a cowl collar opening between her legs. After nuzzling my face into the fluffy turtleneck covering her face and neck, and kissing her at length through it, I move my face down to her breasts, and I stick my head into the big fluffy turtleneck collar sticking out from them. Now my head is in between the two sweater layers over her breasts, with the turtleneck layered over the turtleneck of my sweater. I nuzzle my face eagerly into the fluffy softness between and all around her ample breasts. Finally, my mouth finds one of her milk-giving nipples and sucks deeply forever, as my nose and the rest of my face is nuzzling into the fluffiness of the cowl collar around the nipple. Meanwhile, she has been rubbing and pulling on my penis with the angora collar that completely surrounds it. Finally, she guides my penis into the cowl-collar opening into her vagina. Miraculously, her torso is so long that I am able to comfortably plunge my penis into her vagina while still suckling at her angora covered breast. We continue like that forever, coming over and over. My mouth only lets go of the nipple occasionally so I can nuzzle my face into the softness between the breasts again, and then move over and continue suckling from the other nipple. I also pull my head out of its angora breast-womb occasionally, to nuzzle her angora collar covered face and neck again, and to enjoy more angora collar kisses! When I have come in her so often that I can no longer stay hard in her, I fall out limp (every inch of my body is completely limp all over) and she gently licks and sucks her juices off my penis, carefully dries my penis off, and pulls my angora penis collar back up to engulf my penis again, until it eventually gets hard again, and we continue repeatedly forever. She also occasionally sucks me to orgasm in her mouth, rather than putting me back in her vagina, after getting me excited by rubbing my penis with its angora collar.
In a slight variation of the fantasy, the outer sweater on the woman has two turtleneck collar openings in the front, one over each breast. And we have a male partner with us who is dressed in the same kind of angora outfit as I am. Some of this fantasy is almost identical to the previous version, except we are both suckling at her breasts at the same time. We alternate with one, then the other, occasionally pulling his head out from the breast-womb to nuzzle her angora collar covered face and neck and angora collar kiss her. Then diving back into the angora breast collar to suckle next to each other some more. We also angora collar kiss each other by pulling up each other's collars over our faces. While my penis is in her vagina, my hand is rubbing and pulling on his penis with the fluffy collar surrounding it, until we all 3 come simultaneously. And visa-versa when it is his turn inside, he rubs me. We also enjoy sucking on each other! Sliding my mouth down over the length of his shaft, sucking it in deeply, all the way to the back of my throat, while my lips and nose and whole face nuzzle into the big soft fluffy collar that surrounds his penis! We keep alternating among all the combinations, coming over and over forever.
The fantasy is an angora sweater that has an extra long large thick fluffy turtleneck collar coming out from the breasts! (as well as an enormous cowl collar at the neck). The sweater is worn by a woman with large, milk-giving breasts. It is layered over an extra-fluffy turtleneck angora sweater that has small cowl collars surrounding but exposing the nipple of each breast! The enormous turtleneck collar at the neck of the inner sweater is so long that it is completely covering the face and head of the woman wearing it, while it is still doubled over! I, of course, am wearing a complete angora bodysuit that covers both my hands and feet, with a huge fluffy turtleneck collar that comes up and caresses my chin and ears, but my face and head do stick out of it. It also has a small 'lower' turtleneck collar that is long enough to completely cover the length of my erect penis while the collar is doubled over. Her angora pants also have a cowl collar opening between her legs. After nuzzling my face into the fluffy turtleneck covering her face and neck, and kissing her at length through it, I move my face down to her breasts, and I stick my head into the big fluffy turtleneck collar sticking out from them. Now my head is in between the two sweater layers over her breasts, with the turtleneck layered over the turtleneck of my sweater. I nuzzle my face eagerly into the fluffy softness between and all around her ample breasts. Finally, my mouth finds one of her milk-giving nipples and sucks deeply forever, as my nose and the rest of my face is nuzzling into the fluffiness of the cowl collar around the nipple. Meanwhile, she has been rubbing and pulling on my penis with the angora collar that completely surrounds it. Finally, she guides my penis into the cowl-collar opening into her vagina. Miraculously, her torso is so long that I am able to comfortably plunge my penis into her vagina while still suckling at her angora covered breast. We continue like that forever, coming over and over. My mouth only lets go of the nipple occasionally so I can nuzzle my face into the softness between the breasts again, and then move over and continue suckling from the other nipple. I also pull my head out of its angora breast-womb occasionally, to nuzzle her angora collar covered face and neck again, and to enjoy more angora collar kisses! When I have come in her so often that I can no longer stay hard in her, I fall out limp (every inch of my body is completely limp all over) and she gently licks and sucks her juices off my penis, carefully dries my penis off, and pulls my angora penis collar back up to engulf my penis again, until it eventually gets hard again, and we continue repeatedly forever. She also occasionally sucks me to orgasm in her mouth, rather than putting me back in her vagina, after getting me excited by rubbing my penis with its angora collar.
In a slight variation of the fantasy, the outer sweater on the woman has two turtleneck collar openings in the front, one over each breast. And we have a male partner with us who is dressed in the same kind of angora outfit as I am. Some of this fantasy is almost identical to the previous version, except we are both suckling at her breasts at the same time. We alternate with one, then the other, occasionally pulling his head out from the breast-womb to nuzzle her angora collar covered face and neck and angora collar kiss her. Then diving back into the angora breast collar to suckle next to each other some more. We also angora collar kiss each other by pulling up each other's collars over our faces. While my penis is in her vagina, my hand is rubbing and pulling on his penis with the fluffy collar surrounding it, until we all 3 come simultaneously. And visa-versa when it is his turn inside, he rubs me. We also enjoy sucking on each other! Sliding my mouth down over the length of his shaft, sucking it in deeply, all the way to the back of my throat, while my lips and nose and whole face nuzzle into the big soft fluffy collar that surrounds his penis! We keep alternating among all the combinations, coming over and over forever.
My Fuzzy Fantasy Trip to Quebec
After my wife left me that winter, I did not know what to do. San Diego was beautiful as always, but I felt a need for a change, even if only temporarily. It would be nice to leave the warm rainy San Diego winter and go to someplace cold with snow, where I can see lots of people wearing furs and fuzzy sweaters. I remembered that my friends had told me they had a wonderful time when they went to Quebec City for winter Carnival. So, since it just happened to be coming up at the time, I decided to check it out. I got the vacation off to a great start, while sleeping on the plane on the way there, by dreaming that I was walking through a palace made of ice and everybody else in there was wearing deliciously fluffy fur coats, and every one of them asked me for a deep long yummy fluffy hug.
When I got there, it was prettier than I had dreamed. Especially the real ice palace, which was actually a feature of the winter Carnival. I wandered around watching the revelers at Carnival. I was a little bit turned off that most of the people were drunk, but it was also somewhat fascinating to watch them gaily walking around in the streets drinking from those long hollow canes.
One evening I was intrigued to see two girls in fur coats with long hair hanging to their ankles!, walking (staggering) with their arms around each other. I couldn’t believe that I was seeing two girls together with such scrumptiously long hair the same length on both, and in such luscious, fluffy fur coats! I discreetly followed them for a while. I couldn’t stand to let them get out of my sight! When I saw them just standing on a street corner, trying to hold each other up, I sat down discreetly on a park bench in a gazebo nearby. I found it tenderly endearing to see one of them try to kiss the other, but was disappointed to see the other resist. I was then surprised to hear them start speaking English to each other, with thick French accents, rather than just speaking French.
“Babette, not right here on the public street corner!”
“Oh, Monique, your attempts to hide our love are silly. Everyone sees it anyway. We can’t help glowing about how we feel together. Only those for whom it is too unthinkable don’t notice, because their minds filter out what they can not imagine. Those who actually see us mostly accept.”
“Well, at least we can keep speaking English to avoid broadcasting our every thought to everyone within earshot.”
In response to that, Babette thought, but did not bother to say, “Monique, you really are drunk! You’ve forgotten that almost everyone in Quebec also speaks English. But I’ll continue to speak English with you since it seems to make you feel better.”
Then, Babette drew Monique into a long deep very wet passionate kiss. It broke only when they began to lose their balance. As they regained their footing, they had turned around and I could see their faces clearly for the first time, in the light of the street lamp. My heart skipped a beat! They are identical twins! I now understand why Monique is so scared of being discovered. The issue is not just being lesbian, which is becoming more acceptable in the more progressive parts of the world; the issue is incest, which is still universally condemned throughout the world. After the kiss, though I never saw them notice me, they took off at a run up the street, up a steep hill, turning a corner and disappearing into the shadows, so I had no hope of continuing to follow. I returned to my hotel, glowing from the tender and provocative scene I had been privileged to witness. I decided not to berate myself for having followed them and having eavesdropped. My experience of them had been too precious.
A few days later, I was sitting in a coffee house that had been recommended to me as a favorite gathering place for intellectuals, artists and bohemians, sipping a hot chocolate, hoping to meet someone interesting, but about ready to give up, when I heard two voices call out loud, “Bernard!” And then they said something in French that I assume from the changing tone of voice was probably something like “What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Hello!? Why are you ignoring us?” While they were saying this, they were approaching me. As soon as I looked up and saw them, I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was the sisters I had seen the other night! Again, they said what I assume was something like “Bernard, why aren’t you answering us?!”
Then they saw the completely lost, confused, totally non-understanding look on my face, and I managed to stammer, “Sorry, I don’t speak French.”
One of them said in English, “Oh, excuse us Monsieur. You must be an American. Pardon our intrusion, but you look just like our best friend Bernard, and we thought you were he.” After I acknowledged that I am American, and never heard of Bernard, one of them came back at me sharply with, “But I just saw you look at us as if you recognized us!”
To that, I had to confess, “I did recognize you, because I saw you on the street a few nights ago. And I also need to confess that I overheard you talking English to each other.”
“Oh, that night!” the one I assume was Monique gasped, flushing with embarrassment.
I hastened to add, “Please, rest assured. I was sincerely touched and pleased by what I saw and heard, and I understand your concern for discretion.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I simply value loving and appreciate it wherever I see it. I do not pay attention to nor judge who is loving whom.”
“I can hardly believe we are hearing this from you! Our friend Bernard is the only other person who has ever said such things to us.”
“Who is this Bernard? You say I look just like him? And he is your best friend? You look so young, late teens to early twenties. I am old enough to be your father. I can’t look that young to you!”
“Actually, Bernard is your age. He was our favorite professor at the University. Our friendship grew slowly at first as we studied with him, but it continued growing faster and deeper after we finished all the courses he taught and there was no more professional conflict of interest to worry about.”
We continued talking and getting to know each other long into the night. I learned that they share an apartment in that neighborhood. One intriguing thing I noticed about them was that they often speak almost like one person. Sometimes speaking simultaneously in unison, sometimes finishing each other’s sentences, sometimes alternating sentences. Finally, when they noticed me starting to nod off, the girls said “Come walk us home. This connection is too special to break! Let’s continue at our place, where we can be more comfortable and talk more freely about what we have been only hinting about here.” I eagerly agreed.
Their apartment was a small, cozy walk-up flat on the hill where I had seen them disappear the other night. It was simply, almost rustically, furnished. I noted with delight fur rugs on the floor and on the bed. Even though I had not yet worked up the courage to tell them about my fur fetish, they said with a knowing tone in their voices, “We thought you would like this better than your sterile hotel room, whether we were here or not. We know the apartment is quite cold, Monsieur, because the building is so old and poorly insulated, and we can not afford the utility costs to keep it well heated. Unfortunately, we do not have any angora pajamas in your size. So we will just have to make sure we keep you cozy warm and comfortable ourselves.” As they said it, one of them led me over to sit on the edge of the bed, which was covered with a thick fluffy soft alpaca bedspread. I couldn’t resist diving in to nuzzle my face and hands into the luscious fur bedspread. The twins giggled approvingly. Then, when I sat back up, Monique(?) sat down on my lap, wrapping her fur-coated arms around me and pulling my face into the big thick soft fur collar.
Meanwhile, Babette(?) had taken off her fur coat and laid it over me, fur-side-down, and was changing out of her street clothes and into the most lusciously fluffy 100% angora pajamas! She left on the white, skin-tight angora turtleneck she had been wearing under her other clothes, and then layered over it a big loose fluffy angora jammie top with an enormous cowl collar that rose up to her chin and hung down to her breasts. The jammie bottoms, which ended in booties covering the feet, were made of the same fluffy angora yarn as the top. “There,” she said, “now I will stay cozy warm, even if you two end up pulling the fur blankets off me.”
With that, she came over to the bed and sat down on the other side of me and bid me to come nuzzle into HER collar, not to let her sister outdo her. Then, while they tried to keep the fur coat draped over me for warmth, the two of them proceeded to gleefully strip me naked. “Now, ALL of you will be able to feel and appreciate the fluffiness with which we intend to keep you warm tonight.”
Then they pulled back the top of the fur bed spread, revealing that it was fur on both sides. On closer inspection I saw that it was actually one single 9-meter long, 3-meter wide single-sided piece, folded in thirds, so it made the entire bed furry both under us and over us, with the bottom fold preventing our feet from ever sticking out in the cold, and then folding over again at the top so the fur was also on the topside!
We all quickly dived in and sandwiched me in the middle, lying on our sides, all facing the same way. Monique, still in her fur coat, snuggled close and snugly behind me, wrapping her arms around me, letting my head rest on her furry lower arm. Babette nestled in front of me, trying to make sure every inch of her warm angora fluffiness was firmly pressed against me, pulling up her big angora collar to be sure it was fully fluffing into my face. And then they pulled the folded alpaca fur blanket back up over us, to complete our fluffy heaven nest. Knowing I could not possibly be able to avoid orgasming as soon as I was snugly sandwiched between them, even though they were not particularly intending to be sexual yet, and wanting to protect Babette’s angora from my sticky semen, Monique thoughtfully had a handkerchief in her free hand. They both quickly wiggled enthusiastically against me to get this first unavoidable orgasm over as quickly as possible, but also as joyfully as possible. My penis rubbed ecstatically into the three layers of angora covering Babette’s bottom, while my face snuggled into her incredible fluffy collar, as my hands fondled her angora covered breasts, and my legs were being rubbed between Monique’s fur and Babette’s angora. And then Monique’s handkerchief deftly caught the cum just as it came bursting out of me. Then, Monique said, “Now that we are all cozy and settled in,” and Babette chimed in, “Settled down, you mean!” Monique continued, “Now we can continue talking as we intended.” They both giggled.
We talked on into the night. They told me how they had slept together since birth. How naturally they enjoyed each other’s company, and each other’s bodies. How their parents had tried unsuccessfully to get them to start sleeping separately when they reached puberty. How they convinced their parents that they only enjoyed sleeping and talking with each other in bed, and keeping warm together. How frustrating it was to have to lie to their parents and to keep totally quiet and still while they enjoyed and pleasured each other’s bodies. And then, when they were sixteen, when their parents came home early from a party and overheard them moan in orgasmic ecstasy together, and saw that their worst fears were true, that their daughters were incestuous lovers, how their parents kicked them out of the house and disowned them.
Because they were so intellectually brilliant, though, they were already in their freshman year of college at the time, and had wanted to move out on their own anyway. Luckily they had full scholarships and did not need their parents’ continued support to stay in college.
They also told me how they resisted all efforts of their parents and teachers to encourage them to individuate. They liked being twins, and they liked being identical. Since they had unavoidably picked up some individual manners of speech and gesture and personality, they purposely learned to mimic each other perfectly so no one could ever be sure which one of them they were talking to. Their unique ’identical-twins-lovers’ identity was their identity, and they were never going to give it up. And they were especially never going to let anybody else take it away from them!
Then they told me how their former professor had become their best friend. That it was only through his generosity that they had their fur coats and angora sweaters and pajamas and the incredible fur comforter we were snuggling into on the bed. Then, I could hear in their tone that there was something more that they were not telling me. It felt almost like there was some incredible idea that they were cooking up and discussing telepathically to keep it from me. They changed the subject by asking me to tell them more about myself.
Before I could even start, they said they knew I was hesitating because I was unsure whether and when and how to tell them that I am irresistibly sexually attracted to furry fluffiness and long hair. “You are so obvious, it is written all over you!” one said. “In angora neon!” the other chimed in. “As you should already be able to tell, considering what we just did right here a while ago, you are quite safely accepted here with us. We obviously share your passion for fluffy softness.” They admonished me to give them more credit for their keen powers of observation and intuition. They had already been around me long enough in the past several hours to know that I am not sexist, and I was not uncontrollably turned on just because I was in bed between two girls! They knew, from everything they could see about me, that it was the furriness that my libido was responding to, and it was their minds and souls that I was really connecting with.
I then told them more about my life; about my career as an air quality planner; my 16 year marriage where we never managed to get over our basic incompatibility, no matter how much we worked to improve our communication; my precious long-term friendships with wonderful understanding people who accepted and appreciated me completely, but never really shared my fuzzy passions. I explained how I do not identify with gender at all. How I see it as limiting our full humanity. How it is the characteristics that are ‘human’ that I find most attractive in people, and not those that are masculine or feminine. I shared about my commitment to nonviolence and equality. I described the personal growth and social transformation groups I have participated in.
Finally, they said we had better all go to sleep, because tomorrow will be an incredibly big day for all of us, but especially for me, if I agree to participate in their plans. I remembered then that earlier I had gotten the sense that they were planning something together telepathically. Finally, they could contain themselves no longer. In unison, they said, “You have to meet our friend Bernard! We already have a dinner date with him tomorrow. Please join us!” I was a little surprised at their sense of urgency, but eagerly intrigued at the idea of meeting someone who is so special to these two perfect angels. And doubly intrigued to meet him because they had said he looks so much like me that they had mistaken me for him! So, of course, I eagerly agreed.
As soon as we tried to go to sleep, we all noticed that we were still too keyed up and excited to fall asleep yet. This time, without the need for telepathy, all three of us had the same idea at the same time. By rubbing and caressing each other with and through the fur and angora surrounding us, we stimulated each other to repeated fluffy orgasms until we finally drifted to sleep in blissful fulfilled orgasmic exhaustion.
The next day, we went back to my hotel room briefly so I could change clothes and put on my favorite angora-blend v-neck sweater. Then, they took me to an incredibly fancy restaurant on an island in the St. Lawrence, where we had to ride in a horse-drawn carriage from the ferry dock to the restaurant, because there are no cars on the island. When we entered the restaurant, after hanging our fur coats among the others on the coat rack, they led me to a table where I could see someone already sitting with their back to us. All I could tell from the back as I approached was that the person had somewhat longer hair than mine and was wearing a lusciously fluffy angora cowl-neck sweater! This must be Bernard! I could already tell that I was really going to appreciate meeting him!
My and Bernard's First Night Together
As I was being introduced to Bernard I couldn't believe my eyes. He is ME!! He is slimmer, though. It was interesting to see what I will look like when I achieve my goal weight. And that gorgeous angora sweater he is wearing!!! I couldn't take my eyes off it while we were shaking hands, because I didn't want to just be shaking hands with a man in such a lusciously soft sweater. The soft fluffy fuzziness of it was so thick, and the way the fibers caught the light as they fluttered like ocean waves in the breeze, it stood out around him like a shining aura. Bernard immediately picked up on my thoughts and opened his arms for a warm welcoming hug. I sank ecstatically into the thick softness as I hugged Bernard. My hands roamed all around his back and shoulders, glorying in the feel. I nestled my face deep into the soft folds of the cowl collar. I was in heaven! Bernard whispered into my ear, as he hugged me even more enthusiastically, "Ohhh, this is the best hug I have ever had!! Nobody has ever appreciated hugging me in the fluffiness I was wearing the way you are, and I love it! Rub me all you want. I feel like I am finally being appreciated for all of what is really me, not just my intellect." I could tell that Bernard identifies as strongly with his fuzziness as I do, and so he knew and understood that my enthusiasm was for all of his being, which was finally reflecting mine, not just for the sweater itself. Everyone else that I had hugged while they were wearing something soft felt slighted, mistakenly feeling that I was ignoring them and just paying attention to what they were wearing. But I could tell that Bernard deeply understood that I was actually showing deep appreciation and affection to him, the person inside, in response to the lovely gift of hugging me while wearing something so yummy. Our embrace lingered on gloriously for what seemed blissfully like forever. Then, as I pulled my face out of his collar to gaze deeply into his eyes, he, at first slowly and tentatively, (not absolutely sure of how much I was open to with another man) and then, sensing my eagerness, enthusiastically pulled my head to his for a deep, passionate kiss. Our tongues roamed each other's mouths like a mouse in a new cage, wanting to explore and discover every inch. I was both surprised at myself and gleefully pleased, because this is not the way I usually kiss. But right now it seemed like the way to be kissing Bernard.
As I was kissing Bernard, I noticed, with both pleasure and a little surprise, that his face was as smooth as a woman’s. Yet he was obviously the same age as I, and yet in some way I didn't quite understand, he also looked a lifetime younger, like he is still a little kid. Noticing this just fired my passion and enthusiasm higher. Then, for a moment, I winced thinking "Ouch!" I remember what my transsexual friend told me it felt like to go through electrolysis to get her face to look and feel that way. I suddenly felt a little sorry for Bernard for what he must have gone through. Then, just as I was about to start being self conscious and disappointed about the rough scratchiness of my own shaven face, and really fearful of the pain I would have to endure if Bernard wanted me to get electrolysis too, he surprised and relieved me and gave me another happy gift by showing me that in one way he is not identical to me, but has preferences more like my transsexual friend. Whereas I am turned on by the soft smoothness of a woman's face, especially to brush my lips and cheeks against it, he showed by the way he rubbed his cheeks against mine that he really enjoyed and appreciated the sandpaper roughness of my shaven beard. How perfect! He is already the way I prefer, as unusual as that may be, and he actually prefers me just the way I am. This is heaven!
I suddenly thought for a moment that it was strange that I would think upon just being introduced to a complete stranger that I would even consider going through electrolysis for him. But I already knew that he and I are not complete strangers. We are soulmates, and from this moment on, being together for the rest of our lives is both of our highest priority. So it was natural that we cared what each other felt and thought.
Then I noticed that Bernard's face was so soft, he couldn't have gotten it by electrolysis. He obviously has never shaved. He still has peach fuzz! Yummm!!
While we stood there hugging and nuzzling each other's faces, with mine repeatedly dipping into his fluffy collar, Bernard said softly into my ear, "I am so glad you so obviously appreciate softness as much as I do. But come with me. I don’t want your neck to get chilled in that v-neck in this drafty old restaurant in the dead of winter in Quebec.” Then he led me by the hand over to the coat-rack where his fur-lined parka was hanging. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a long, lusciously fuzzy 100% angora scarf. He said, "Since not all my sweaters have turtleneck collars, I often need to wear this as protection against the winter cold. But as you have already so deliciously noticed, with this sweater, I don't need it tonight. I would much rather put it to better use seeing and feeling it on you!” And with that, he gently kissed me where my neck meets my chest, as it was exposed by the v-neck, and then he proceeded to wrap the angora scarf loosely around my neck, fluffing it up as he did, so it would tickle my cheeks and chin and even the bottoms of my ears. Then, he pulled me into the back of the closet, hidden behind his parka and the other fur coats, and he slowly and deliberately reached into my v-neck and tucked each end of the long, soft, fluffy angora scarf down the front of my chest under my sweater, rubbing my chest and belly with it as he went, and finally, to my gleeful surprise, wrapping the end around my penis and tucking it under my balls. OOOOhhhhh, YUM!!! He did the same thing with the other end as he did with the first, but even more slowly and deliberately, spending extra time rubbing my lower belly and crotch areas before wrapping and tucking the end. He nuzzled his face into the scarf around my neck as he did this, and whispered, "We can each enjoy deeply sniffing in the scrumptious odor of your crotch on the scarf ends when we take this off of you later." It was all I could do not to come right there and then, but I did not want my semen to ruin the angora. I could tell he had even better ideas awaiting us for later at home. Then, he really surprised me! Sensing the extreme intensity of my sexual turn-on, he knew that I was just kidding myself if I thought I could get through the evening or even another minute without coming with that angora wrapped around my penis. So, he pushed one of my hands up to hold the angora scarf over my face for me to nuzzle into it, while my other hand caressed his hair and face, his luscious angora sweater, and the fur coats around us, and he dropped to his knees, unzipped my pants, pulled out my penis while squeezing and rubbing the angora on my shaft, and covered the tip of my penis with his handkerchief just in time for me to uncontrollably cum!! Then he gently dried my penis tip off with his handkerchief, carefully wrapped the penis all back in the angora scarf while giving it a little kiss, zipped me up, and stood up to kiss me deeply. Then, with a smug, self-satisfied look on his face, he led me back out of the closet, stood back and looked at me carefully, and with a broad smile, said "Now, that's better." Then he whispered to me, “I only wish we did not live in this age of fear of diseases! I would have loved to have had you cum in my mouth and tasted your semen!”
I knew that even though the girls had given him no clue that he was meeting me tonight (he had thought he was just meeting them for dinner as usual) he was always ready for meeting his soulmate, anticipating and fantasizing about it every day, just like I did. We never knew exactly where or when or how, but we knew some day it would happen, and we knew exactly how we wanted it to be. And here it was, actually happening!!!!!
He walked me back to the table, rubbing the scarf around my neck with his hand as we walked. Then, to the girls (I had almost forgotten anyone else was there!) he said, "Okay, my darlings, now we can eat." He then greeted both of them with enthusiasm equal to what he had showed me. We ate leisurely and the four of us talked at the table for hours. After we all felt like we had already gotten to know each other as well as old lifelong friends, we decided it was time to go home.
When we all arrived at his house after dinner, I felt I already knew what it would be like, even though he had not yet described it in detail. I knew the house from my own lifelong fantasies. Not necessarily the architecture, but certainly the fluffy furry decor. And there they were, the thick soft sheepskin rugs on the floor, the Peruvian Alpaca artwork on the walls, the soft, cushiony, furry couches and furry pillows both on the couches and strewn around the floor, and the large stone fireplace warmly glowing and crackling. As soon as I noticed that it was a see-through fireplace, I also knew that his bedroom was on the other side of it. Seeing the peaked curiosity light up in my face, he led me around the dividing wall to show me the bedroom. It was everything I had ever dreamed and more! The fur-covered waterbed was actually four king-sized waterbeds put together! I knew right then, to my delight, that he enjoyed communal bed sex parties with intimate groups of friends as much as I did, but he was much better equipped than I was to accommodate a group of four to six or even eight people in bed. And there, next to the bed, was the same model spa that I have at home, except his had jets and headrests at every seat.
The girls started yawning loudly and obviously to cue their departure downstairs to leave us alone. At the same time, Bernard and I both said, "Thank you so much for bringing us together, and thank you for the privacy you are now offering us, but we will want you to join us back up here bright and early in the morning, before breakfast." They eagerly agreed, and ran downstairs to enjoy each other.
When we were alone, and after we came up for air from another long deep passionately rubbing kiss, this time through the fluff of his cowl collar pulled up over his face, when we finally pulled the collar back down, I noticed Bernard's smile suddenly faded and was replaced with a hesitant thoughtful look. As soon as he saw the consternation, disappointment and fear on my face showing that I thought he was having second thoughts about moving so fast at being together with me, he hastened to let me know he was ecstatically glad that we are getting together, and there is nothing wrong with me at all. Instead, his concern was that I might not fully accept him. "You see, I have been ashamed to tell you, and I am now even more ashamed and afraid to show you, but I am not as perfect as you may think. I am deformed. I have a serious birth defect."
I said, "I already know and love you well enough to know that you could not possibly have a birth defect that would seriously bother me or put me off. I have already told you on our ride over here about how I accepted my ex-wife’s heart problems. It was only her own nonacceptance of her problems and herself that became a problem between us. And I actually considered my one friend’s missing chromosome and another friend’s transsexuality as turn-ons. I choose to believe that if there is anything you have not been able to accept about yourself, our love can help you learn to accept it."
He said, "This is something about me that I have no problem accepting internally in myself, but other people have been so unaccepting and put off, even repulsed by it, that I have grown to be extremely self conscious and guarded about it, just like the twins are guarded about expressing their shared intimacy in front of others. As a matter of fact, the twins are the only people I have met so far who have been accepting of my deformity. I can only hope that if they were able to accept me, then certainly you, my soulmate, will too." And with that, he slowly pulled down his pants. I was turned on to see that his sweater was long dress length, like my favorite sweaters are. I laughed and said, "Oh, you wear angora dresses too. I do too, but none of mine are nearly as fluffy as yours." "No," he said, "you still have not seen what I am going to show you. I am not ashamed of being a transvestite. I had long since gotten over being self conscious about the clothes I wear. I am not actually a transvestite, anyway. I simply wear the soft fluffy clothes that I like and am comfortable in. I said that my deformity was a birth defect." And with that, he slowly raised the bottom of his sweater dress up to his waste. As he raised it, a tiny little boy style penis peaked out from beneath the thick blanket of fluff. Again I couldn't believe my eyes. I gasped with glee. And then, to make sure he did not misinterpret my involuntary response, I hastily said, "That's not a deformity. It's beautiful to me!" He said, "I have trouble believing you, because until I met the twins, everyone who saw me from the time I was thirteen on, either laughed at me derisively, or else they shrank away, saying they could not consider being sexual with someone whose penis had never matured. To make it worse, the reason my penis never matured is that I was born without testicles, only an empty scrotum sack. Thus, even as a small child I looked deformed, and my parents responded to me at first in such a self conscious manner that I became very ashamed and self conscious about my deformity. When I was an older child my parents and I both went through therapy, and my parents learned to consciously try to encourage me to accept myself as I am. But much damage had already been done to my self image. When all my friends, including my twin brother, went through puberty and I didn't, my self consciousness just increased. I am happy with my body the way it is, but I can't believe anyone else could be. The twins convinced me that they like me the way I am because I don't intimidate them with macho male sexuality the way all other men do. Also, I am different enough from other people that they can believe that I accept their incestuous love, while nobody else can. Conversely, because of their sexual love for each other, they are different enough from normal people that I can understand their understanding me. But I can tell from your scratchy face that you, although seemingly identical to me in all other ways, have gone through puberty, and therefore are basically a normal person. Thus I do not know how you can accept me."
I said, "My difference from most people, like that of the twins, is not physically visible, but instead it is my sexual orientation. And, like your undeveloped penis and the twins' love for each other, this is my deepest, darkest secret, about which I am not internally ashamed, but am completely guarded about sharing with others. I was wondering when in our getting to know each other I would feel safe enough to share this with you, but now I know it is necessary to share with you now. You see, although I have comfortably considered myself bisexual all my life, even long before I had that term to call it, I am just as intimidated by the size of an adult penis as any lesbian is. But I have secretly wished I could find an adult man with a small child-like penis for me to suck on. I do not express this wish to anyone I do not completely trust, for fear of being branded a child molester, which I am not. I would never think of doing anything to anyone that they did not want. I just love the smallness and delicateness of a tiny penis. And since tiny penises are found, until now, only on small children, they have been unavailable to me, except in my fantasies. Thus, seeing yours is literally a dream come true!"
And with that, I eagerly, but not imposingly, kneeled down and, after looking deep into his eyes to get his permission, I sucked his delicious little penis deep into my mouth, rubbing my face in his sweater as I sucked, and rubbing his buttocks with my hands over the soft fuzziness of his sweater. Heaven!! And the luscious smell of his groin made it doubly divine. He held my head to him expressing his ecstatic appreciation. He soon came to a passionate orgasm in my mouth.
To my surprise, his little penis did not squirt out any semen into my mouth. It just pulsed exultantly in a dry orgasm. I thought how lucky he was to never have to worry, as I had, about semen ruining his angora, nor about partners being turned off by the taste of it, as most of mine had been. Nor did he have to worry as I had about getting anyone pregnant, nor about transmitting venereal diseases through his penis. Wow, is he ever lucky!
(Editor's note: Although this scene is depicting unsafe sex on a first date, the reader should rest assured that I do not condone or promote such activity, much less engage in it. "Do not try this at home, boys and girls!" To the contrary, in my real life sexuality, I would not consider any unsafe sexual activity with a person until I had either satisfied myself that the person had been either celibate or monogamous for their whole life with a partner who had started as a virgin, or we had both passed at least two AIDS tests which were six months to a year apart. But that is the rule for my real life. This is just a fantasy, so there don't have to be any rules. Okay? Come on, cut me a break, will ya! Anyway, because he had never gone through puberty, his orgasms are dry, as I said, and thus he is safe.)
Then I suddenly remembered that he had just told me that his beautiful little penis had been a severe sexual turn-off to everyone he had met before the twins and me. I suddenly felt very sorry for him. But that was the past. From now on, the cute little darling would get all the loving attention it deserved. And with that thought, I proceeded to suck him to a second glorious orgasm, without ever actually breaking rhythm from the first.
As I sucked on him, my tongue ran around his scrotum, delicately poking and probing to explore his unique architecture. There I got another delightful surprise. His empty scrotum pushed back into his body, like a delicious but dry vagina. To my even greater delight, I noticed his shivers of ecstatic joy at the feeling of my tongue probing his love sack. He came again from that licking. Then I pulled my face up and nuzzled it into the sweater on his belly while I poked the hem of his sweater into the sack as an angora lubricating lining and rubbed it all around inside the sack with the my fingers, while my other hand gently rubbed his penis in the angora. Now I noticed, again with surprise, how stretchy and deep his scrotum/vagina could become, as I shoved my whole hand into it and rubbed it around inside him in every direction. He came again! Heaven is here! It felt so wonderful to be able to give him so much orgasmic joy!
Then we suddenly knew we both had gotten the same wonderful idea at the same moment, and nothing could hold back our rushing enthusiasm. We quickly tore all the clothes off my body, except for the angora scarf, whose ends were still wrapped around my stiffly erect penis, engulfing it completely to the tip. We leaped together gleefully and eagerly into the fur-covered waterbed, rolling all around over and over each other in it. He found one of his favorite pairs of angora jammie pants lying where he left it on the side of the bed, and hastily slipped them on me. He pulled them up to my waste, rubbing my feet, ankles, legs, thighs, hips, groin and buttocks stimulatingly as he did so. Then he pulled my penis gently but eagerly out through the fly slit of the angora jammies, and rubbed it with the angora of the scarf ends between his hands, while his tongue gently licked and his lips gently kissed the very tip of my penis, which just barely peaked out from under all the angora it was wrapped in. He adoringly said, "I have always wanted to be able to play with, rub and suck on a full-sized adult penis, but no man ever before took me serious sexually, so yours is my first. And how fittingly appropriate it is that my first up close sight and touch of an adult penis is all wrapped lusciously in angora. We will have plenty of time later for me to see it naked; right now, I want it just like it is. I want it deep within me."
He rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him, rubbing his naked legs up and down my angora covered legs, rubbing his hands over my angora covered buttocks, and in the process, rubbing his angora covered arms all over my sides and back, as my naked chest and face sank in to his angora-covered torso and neck, and my hands and arms rubbed passionately up and down his back from his neck to his buttocks. With one hand, he carefully guided my erect penis to the entrance of his inverted scrotum sack, and positioned his tiny member to nestle comfortably in the softness of the angora that lubricated between our bellies. I thrust deep into his sack, lubricated by the angora wrapping my penis. The feeling was unique and ecstatic! The fit was perfect. We both thrust with an intensity neither of us had ever even imagined before. After a lusciously exhausting long time, we both came explosively simultaneously. When our screaming moans died down, we could hear the girls loudly cheering and applauding downstairs to joyously let us know how loud we had been. We then collapsed completely limp and relaxed deep in each other's arms.
After we regained our breath enough to be able to talk again, he said, "Strange as it may seem, I have never before even fantasized about having a penis inside my scrotum sack. It just had not occurred to me, even though I have been stuffing fuzzys in there while I came ever since I first learned to come. OOhh, a fox tail feels wonderful in there! But I had always focused on rubbing my penis with more fuzzys to bring on my orgasms. I had paid more attention to rubbing my scrotum sack with fuzzys while it was hanging out, which is also delicious, but had just never thought how good it would feel to rub it while it was stuffed inside. Then, as soon as you began to probe me with your angora covered fingers, I knew that I wanted to have your penis dive deep into me and stay forever.
"But I could never have even dreamed that anything could possibly feel as wonderful as it felt when your hot squirt of semen shot against the throbbing sensitive lining of my scrotum sack, and its warm glow spread throughout my entire body! That gave me the greatest orgasm I have ever known! I now know what they mean when they say heroine is so addictive because of how incredibly strong and overwhelming the delicious rush of euphoria is."
I said, "Do you realize what a history making event this is? This may be the first time in all of human history that a mutual orgasm was achieved by squirting semen into an inverted scrotum sack?" He said, "You know, you're probably right."
"Furthermore, though this may have been the first such orgasm in human history, I certainly pray it won't be the last, but will be the first of many, many, many more we share like that, and hopefully, several of them tonight! But first, I have always wanted to taste semen squirting into my mouth. Since I don't produce any myself, and no man has ever consented to join me in bed before, I still do not know what it tastes like. I'd like to find out if feeling and tasting your semen squirt into my mouth and throat is anywhere near as orgasmically exciting as feeling it fill my scrotum sack."
And we did. And it was. And then we just had to keep comparing the two experiences, back and forth with variations all night, until we were satisfied that they are all just about equally satisfying. My penis felt best when he held it in his mouth and stimulated the bottom with his tongue while approaching me from below, lying between my legs. But my penis felt nearly as good, and my mouth got the extra joy of sucking on his penis at the same time, when we took the "69" position. We both also enjoyed my rubbing his scrotum sack with angora, either inside or outside, while I was sucking him. When I was inside his scrotum sack, it felt just as enjoyable to use lubricating gel as a wet lubricant as it felt to use angora as a dry lubricant. Ahh, the scientific joy of experimentation!
After dozing a few hours to recuperate from our sexual exhaustion, and then greeting each other with another mutual orgasm when we awoke, it finally occurred to us to discuss the strange circumstance that we look so much alike. I said, "I had always fantasized that somewhere I had an identical twin from whom I had always felt separated. I could never get rid of the deep lonely sensation of being separated from the rest of myself, and a main goal in life would be for us to reunite. Obviously, that has now happened, but I don't understand how we could be identical twins, since I was born in New York on March 21, 1949, and you are Canadian, and obviously much younger."
"Ohho!" he said, triumphantly. "That finally explains so much for me! We really are twins, my beloved brother. You see, I was born in New York City on that same day, while my parents were visiting the U.S. on vacation. I just look younger because I never went through puberty. I do have a fraternal twin brother, but he and I are so different from each other that I always felt something was not quite right. After he went through puberty, his personality and interests changed to be completely incompatible with mine, so we did not provide each other that special companionship through adolescence that so many twins do. We did share so much more though, before he went through puberty. For one thing, just like the twins downstairs, we slept together and enjoyed playing with each other's bodies and making love to each other as small children, whenever we could get away with it without our parents knowing. But after he reached puberty, he became purely heterosexual, which I could never understand. When my penis did not grow as his did, he started making fun of my tiny penis just like the other boys did in the bathroom or locker room. He found it more important to him at that time to fit in and be accepted by our peers than to maintain our special relationship. The more he distanced himself from me socially, the better accepted he was, and thus he managed to live down being the twin brother of a freak. I felt so betrayed and abandoned, by the one person I had always been closest to before. But I could not blame him for his choice, either. It was many friends or just me. He did what was best for him at the time.
"Now I know that he was not my real brother after all. You are! The hospital must have mixed the two of you up, during all the uproar of having a deformed baby born without testicles."
"Oh," I said, "then your brother was really the child of my parents. That explains why I spent my whole childhood feeling like I was lost in the wrong family! Everything is finally coming clear for both of us! We have to share our wonderful news with the girls, and all celebrate together!" Then we both yelled together, "Oh, girrrllls, come on up here, quickly! We have something especially wonderful to share with you."
Babette and Monique came running upstairs like two children who had just been told that they could go ahead and unwrap their Xmas presents an hour earlier than usual this year. They literally leaped into the bed from their full run like a racing pair of triatheletes diving into the swimming portion of their competition. The jolt on the water bed when they both landed simultaneously in an even tie felt like what I imagine the initial jolt of a magnitude 10 earthquake would feel like. (For comparison, the San Francisco 1906 quake was only 8.5 on the Richter scale.) After carefully avoiding landing on top of Bernard and me so as to prevent serious injuries, they both immediately rolled into our arms, snuggling and rubbing each other with our mutual fluffiness, and we rolled over and over and over, giggling and wiggling all over the big bed. I had no idea whether the girl in my arms was Monique or Babette, and it felt even more exciting to roll around with her, knowing that it really did not matter in the slightest to any of the four of us which one it was. My sense of excitement and satisfaction soared even higher when I realized in a flash that when my face and hands are all covered in angora, as I prefer them to be, that I can not even tell whether the lover in my arms is Bernard or one of the girls, and the joy is even greater. Our love among the four of us is uniquely boundaryless and distinctionless.
After we all finally settled down from our seemingly endless frolic, into a tangled but relaxingly comfortable pile of bodies and limbs, each resting his or her head on a soft pillowy part of one of the others, Bernard and I finally told the girls the great news of how he and I had confirmed that we were in fact identical twin brothers, separated at birth by a hospital mix-up. As we knew they would be, the girls were just as excited about the news as we were, even though it had been obvious to them, as soon as they had seen the two of us together in the restaurant. While we did not look absolutely identical, like the girls did, because I looked older and heavier than Bernard, we did look like the same person at two different ages, and that much family resemblance could not just be due to simple coincidence.
As our bodies in the tangle began to rub each other’s fluffyness in joyous celebration, my mouth instinctively found Bernard's delicious little penis and sucked it in deeply while my face nuzzled ecstatically into the fluffiness surrounding it, as he lay on his back with his body at a right angle to mine, making him the cross of a "T" of which I was the vertical stroke. At the same time, one of the girls sucked briefly on my penis from below as I was kneeling over intent on Bernard's. As soon as she was sure I was stiff enough for penetration, she quickly allowed her sister's fluffy body to slide in under mine, and guided me into the waiting vagina, licking the shaft of my penis as it entered and then feathering the labia with her expert tongue as I slowly plunged in and out through the layers of fluff. Then, as I continued thrusting in Babette(?)'s vagina, Monique(?) repositioned herself to lie on the top of the pile, across me at an angle, so Babette(?), whose head rested on Bernard's thigh next to mine at his groin, could lick her clitoris, while she Monique(?) kissed Bernard deeply on the mouth on the other side of me. We all giggled a little, thinking there must be some simpler way to do this, and we'll find many ways in due time, but we were all feeling too wonderful and having way too much fun right then to really care how incredibly complicated our combination of positions was. Our bodies joined in a wavelike rhythm that very gradually intensified, until we all finally burst into a super nova of simultaneous orgasms. Exhausted, we lay there limp for a while, right in the same tangle, until we regained enough strength to untangle ourselves and lie flat on our backs in a row, like four fluffy frankfurters lined up next to each other in the package. It felt good to let our spines relax into the comfortable support of the waterbed, while the fronts of our bodies aired out. We were so blissfully far into Nirvana, that it did not even occur to any of us to look and see who was lying where. We just floated there in a silent row, totally relaxed.
Finally, I mentioned that I had suddenly noticed that I neither knew nor cared who was where, because I loved them all equally. One of the girls (Babette by the tone of voice) responded that to her own surprise, she was also feeling equally as comfortable with Bernard and me as she was with her own twin sister. Monique agreed that she had never expected to feel as comfortable with anyone else as she was with Babette, but she too now felt so with the two of us.
I then remarked that though I sometimes could tell the difference in their voices, as I thought I could at that time, I usually could not tell the difference between the girls, and consequently mostly thought of them just as "the girls" rather than considering them individually. I asked whether they felt slighted or discounted by my not paying attention to their individuality. They both giggled gleefully and said that they are flattered and deeply appreciative that I see them that way, because that is the way they see themselves. They reminded me how they had resisted their parents' attempts to individualize them. Bernard said, "I've known them both as teacher and intimate friend now for years, and I still can't tell them apart for sure. And because they are such mischievous mistresses of deception, often intentionally taking on each other's personalities, one can never even be sure from the tone of voice which is which." They giggled again. He continued, "I have, however, persisted through the years in trying to find some sure way of distinguishing between them, out of the sheer sense of challenge that it offers, and also because my university administration insists that I must grade them separately. At first, the dean required that I only allow one of them to enroll in a given class at a time, so that I could keep track of who was earning what grades by keeping track of the classes separately. But they made sure that neither I nor anyone else could tell for sure which one had actually shown up for which class on any particular occasion, and they finally convinced the dean to allow them to attend classes together again. Thus, alas, they have eluded me, much to my frustration. Carl, you may in fact be the wiser of us, to not even worry about which is which." Again, they giggled their agreement.
From that night on, the four of us mostly slept together in the big bed. And when that occasionally was not the arrangement, we did not make any big deal about which particular combination we happened to be in at any given moment.
Over the next several days and nights, we tried an uncountable number of combinations of positions. For sexual positions, we found that we all preferred positions in which both our mouths and our genitals were simultaneously engaged in enjoying each other. None of us liked to feel that any square inch of our body was being left out of the mutual fuzzy stimulation, so we were usually tangled up in ecstatic fluffy knots with each other.
Sleeping, we found, was where the greatest variety of positions were enjoyed. Sometimes, some of us wanted to sleep with a breast or penis in our mouth to suck on in and out of sleep. Miraculously, at those same times, some of us wanted to sleep with our penis or breast being sucked on; what a coincidence! Sometimes, though, some of us also wanted to sleep with our faces free to feel the briskness of the cool night air. Sometimes someone even wanted their whole body left alone to enjoy the relaxing coolness of the air or warmth of the fluffy bedding. All combinations were equally okay.
Whenever anyone wanted someone to cuddle and snuggle up with, someone was there eagerly, even if sleepily, willing. Whenever anyone wanted to get frisky, someone else was more than glad to get in on the fun. Whenever, someone had something they wanted to talk about, there was always someone willing to listen. Getting everyone ready to listen at the same time was just a little more challenging, but we managed to do it whenever we had to.
We also found, profoundly, that whether we were sharing our intimate thoughts and feelings verbally, engaging in orgasmic sex acts, or just lovingly holding and caressing each other in and out of sleep, it was all equally love making to us. Thus, we were always making love, every moment we were in bed together, and for that matter, much of the time we were together out of bed.
My favorite position is to be sucking on Bernard's penis while nuzzling my face into the angora fluff surrounding it, while I'm inside Babbette's vagina, lying on top of her, while Monique is kneeling behind me and lying on top of me, rubbing the angora between us into my tushy and back, while thrusting me deeper into Babette, as she leans over me to kiss Babette deeply on the lips. (I could tell whether it was really Monique behind me, because she would thrust more vigorously than Babette, and I like the vigorous supportive thrusting from behind.) I also enjoy having Bernard behind me so his tiny little penis can thrust delicately into my anus and orgasm triumphantly within me, while thrusting me into one girl's vagina while I am sucking milk from the other's breast. But when all is considered, I enjoy sucking Bernard's delicious little penis into my mouth far more often than I want it in my anus. Anyway, Monique has become quite adept at gently probing my anus with her slender finger while she is thrusting behind me, so I can feel like I have two Bernards inside me, one at each end.
I love being in the middle of this writhing fluffy sandwich, covered head to toe in angora. One of my arms is rubbing Babbette's back, neck, head, butt, side and breast beneath me, while the other hand is rubbing Bernard's legs, thighs, groin, side, back, chest, belly, whatever I can reach, while my mouth is deeply sucking on his penis and my face nuzzles into the angora fluff surrounding it. He really likes when I am rubbing his scrotum sack with angora, and especially when I thrust angora fingers into it in rhythm with my sucking on him. I always like him to cum with me.
I am usually the one all covered in angora, leaving them free to wear or not wear whatever they want, while everything I feel is still all angora to me. But I especially love the times that they all indulge me by them all wearing angora and letting my naked body feel completely surrounded and supported by their angora softness.
’And a good time was had by all.’
When I got there, it was prettier than I had dreamed. Especially the real ice palace, which was actually a feature of the winter Carnival. I wandered around watching the revelers at Carnival. I was a little bit turned off that most of the people were drunk, but it was also somewhat fascinating to watch them gaily walking around in the streets drinking from those long hollow canes.
One evening I was intrigued to see two girls in fur coats with long hair hanging to their ankles!, walking (staggering) with their arms around each other. I couldn’t believe that I was seeing two girls together with such scrumptiously long hair the same length on both, and in such luscious, fluffy fur coats! I discreetly followed them for a while. I couldn’t stand to let them get out of my sight! When I saw them just standing on a street corner, trying to hold each other up, I sat down discreetly on a park bench in a gazebo nearby. I found it tenderly endearing to see one of them try to kiss the other, but was disappointed to see the other resist. I was then surprised to hear them start speaking English to each other, with thick French accents, rather than just speaking French.
“Babette, not right here on the public street corner!”
“Oh, Monique, your attempts to hide our love are silly. Everyone sees it anyway. We can’t help glowing about how we feel together. Only those for whom it is too unthinkable don’t notice, because their minds filter out what they can not imagine. Those who actually see us mostly accept.”
“Well, at least we can keep speaking English to avoid broadcasting our every thought to everyone within earshot.”
In response to that, Babette thought, but did not bother to say, “Monique, you really are drunk! You’ve forgotten that almost everyone in Quebec also speaks English. But I’ll continue to speak English with you since it seems to make you feel better.”
Then, Babette drew Monique into a long deep very wet passionate kiss. It broke only when they began to lose their balance. As they regained their footing, they had turned around and I could see their faces clearly for the first time, in the light of the street lamp. My heart skipped a beat! They are identical twins! I now understand why Monique is so scared of being discovered. The issue is not just being lesbian, which is becoming more acceptable in the more progressive parts of the world; the issue is incest, which is still universally condemned throughout the world. After the kiss, though I never saw them notice me, they took off at a run up the street, up a steep hill, turning a corner and disappearing into the shadows, so I had no hope of continuing to follow. I returned to my hotel, glowing from the tender and provocative scene I had been privileged to witness. I decided not to berate myself for having followed them and having eavesdropped. My experience of them had been too precious.
A few days later, I was sitting in a coffee house that had been recommended to me as a favorite gathering place for intellectuals, artists and bohemians, sipping a hot chocolate, hoping to meet someone interesting, but about ready to give up, when I heard two voices call out loud, “Bernard!” And then they said something in French that I assume from the changing tone of voice was probably something like “What a pleasant surprise to see you here. Hello!? Why are you ignoring us?” While they were saying this, they were approaching me. As soon as I looked up and saw them, I couldn’t believe my eyes! It was the sisters I had seen the other night! Again, they said what I assume was something like “Bernard, why aren’t you answering us?!”
Then they saw the completely lost, confused, totally non-understanding look on my face, and I managed to stammer, “Sorry, I don’t speak French.”
One of them said in English, “Oh, excuse us Monsieur. You must be an American. Pardon our intrusion, but you look just like our best friend Bernard, and we thought you were he.” After I acknowledged that I am American, and never heard of Bernard, one of them came back at me sharply with, “But I just saw you look at us as if you recognized us!”
To that, I had to confess, “I did recognize you, because I saw you on the street a few nights ago. And I also need to confess that I overheard you talking English to each other.”
“Oh, that night!” the one I assume was Monique gasped, flushing with embarrassment.
I hastened to add, “Please, rest assured. I was sincerely touched and pleased by what I saw and heard, and I understand your concern for discretion.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I simply value loving and appreciate it wherever I see it. I do not pay attention to nor judge who is loving whom.”
“I can hardly believe we are hearing this from you! Our friend Bernard is the only other person who has ever said such things to us.”
“Who is this Bernard? You say I look just like him? And he is your best friend? You look so young, late teens to early twenties. I am old enough to be your father. I can’t look that young to you!”
“Actually, Bernard is your age. He was our favorite professor at the University. Our friendship grew slowly at first as we studied with him, but it continued growing faster and deeper after we finished all the courses he taught and there was no more professional conflict of interest to worry about.”
We continued talking and getting to know each other long into the night. I learned that they share an apartment in that neighborhood. One intriguing thing I noticed about them was that they often speak almost like one person. Sometimes speaking simultaneously in unison, sometimes finishing each other’s sentences, sometimes alternating sentences. Finally, when they noticed me starting to nod off, the girls said “Come walk us home. This connection is too special to break! Let’s continue at our place, where we can be more comfortable and talk more freely about what we have been only hinting about here.” I eagerly agreed.
Their apartment was a small, cozy walk-up flat on the hill where I had seen them disappear the other night. It was simply, almost rustically, furnished. I noted with delight fur rugs on the floor and on the bed. Even though I had not yet worked up the courage to tell them about my fur fetish, they said with a knowing tone in their voices, “We thought you would like this better than your sterile hotel room, whether we were here or not. We know the apartment is quite cold, Monsieur, because the building is so old and poorly insulated, and we can not afford the utility costs to keep it well heated. Unfortunately, we do not have any angora pajamas in your size. So we will just have to make sure we keep you cozy warm and comfortable ourselves.” As they said it, one of them led me over to sit on the edge of the bed, which was covered with a thick fluffy soft alpaca bedspread. I couldn’t resist diving in to nuzzle my face and hands into the luscious fur bedspread. The twins giggled approvingly. Then, when I sat back up, Monique(?) sat down on my lap, wrapping her fur-coated arms around me and pulling my face into the big thick soft fur collar.
Meanwhile, Babette(?) had taken off her fur coat and laid it over me, fur-side-down, and was changing out of her street clothes and into the most lusciously fluffy 100% angora pajamas! She left on the white, skin-tight angora turtleneck she had been wearing under her other clothes, and then layered over it a big loose fluffy angora jammie top with an enormous cowl collar that rose up to her chin and hung down to her breasts. The jammie bottoms, which ended in booties covering the feet, were made of the same fluffy angora yarn as the top. “There,” she said, “now I will stay cozy warm, even if you two end up pulling the fur blankets off me.”
With that, she came over to the bed and sat down on the other side of me and bid me to come nuzzle into HER collar, not to let her sister outdo her. Then, while they tried to keep the fur coat draped over me for warmth, the two of them proceeded to gleefully strip me naked. “Now, ALL of you will be able to feel and appreciate the fluffiness with which we intend to keep you warm tonight.”
Then they pulled back the top of the fur bed spread, revealing that it was fur on both sides. On closer inspection I saw that it was actually one single 9-meter long, 3-meter wide single-sided piece, folded in thirds, so it made the entire bed furry both under us and over us, with the bottom fold preventing our feet from ever sticking out in the cold, and then folding over again at the top so the fur was also on the topside!
We all quickly dived in and sandwiched me in the middle, lying on our sides, all facing the same way. Monique, still in her fur coat, snuggled close and snugly behind me, wrapping her arms around me, letting my head rest on her furry lower arm. Babette nestled in front of me, trying to make sure every inch of her warm angora fluffiness was firmly pressed against me, pulling up her big angora collar to be sure it was fully fluffing into my face. And then they pulled the folded alpaca fur blanket back up over us, to complete our fluffy heaven nest. Knowing I could not possibly be able to avoid orgasming as soon as I was snugly sandwiched between them, even though they were not particularly intending to be sexual yet, and wanting to protect Babette’s angora from my sticky semen, Monique thoughtfully had a handkerchief in her free hand. They both quickly wiggled enthusiastically against me to get this first unavoidable orgasm over as quickly as possible, but also as joyfully as possible. My penis rubbed ecstatically into the three layers of angora covering Babette’s bottom, while my face snuggled into her incredible fluffy collar, as my hands fondled her angora covered breasts, and my legs were being rubbed between Monique’s fur and Babette’s angora. And then Monique’s handkerchief deftly caught the cum just as it came bursting out of me. Then, Monique said, “Now that we are all cozy and settled in,” and Babette chimed in, “Settled down, you mean!” Monique continued, “Now we can continue talking as we intended.” They both giggled.
We talked on into the night. They told me how they had slept together since birth. How naturally they enjoyed each other’s company, and each other’s bodies. How their parents had tried unsuccessfully to get them to start sleeping separately when they reached puberty. How they convinced their parents that they only enjoyed sleeping and talking with each other in bed, and keeping warm together. How frustrating it was to have to lie to their parents and to keep totally quiet and still while they enjoyed and pleasured each other’s bodies. And then, when they were sixteen, when their parents came home early from a party and overheard them moan in orgasmic ecstasy together, and saw that their worst fears were true, that their daughters were incestuous lovers, how their parents kicked them out of the house and disowned them.
Because they were so intellectually brilliant, though, they were already in their freshman year of college at the time, and had wanted to move out on their own anyway. Luckily they had full scholarships and did not need their parents’ continued support to stay in college.
They also told me how they resisted all efforts of their parents and teachers to encourage them to individuate. They liked being twins, and they liked being identical. Since they had unavoidably picked up some individual manners of speech and gesture and personality, they purposely learned to mimic each other perfectly so no one could ever be sure which one of them they were talking to. Their unique ’identical-twins-lovers’ identity was their identity, and they were never going to give it up. And they were especially never going to let anybody else take it away from them!
Then they told me how their former professor had become their best friend. That it was only through his generosity that they had their fur coats and angora sweaters and pajamas and the incredible fur comforter we were snuggling into on the bed. Then, I could hear in their tone that there was something more that they were not telling me. It felt almost like there was some incredible idea that they were cooking up and discussing telepathically to keep it from me. They changed the subject by asking me to tell them more about myself.
Before I could even start, they said they knew I was hesitating because I was unsure whether and when and how to tell them that I am irresistibly sexually attracted to furry fluffiness and long hair. “You are so obvious, it is written all over you!” one said. “In angora neon!” the other chimed in. “As you should already be able to tell, considering what we just did right here a while ago, you are quite safely accepted here with us. We obviously share your passion for fluffy softness.” They admonished me to give them more credit for their keen powers of observation and intuition. They had already been around me long enough in the past several hours to know that I am not sexist, and I was not uncontrollably turned on just because I was in bed between two girls! They knew, from everything they could see about me, that it was the furriness that my libido was responding to, and it was their minds and souls that I was really connecting with.
I then told them more about my life; about my career as an air quality planner; my 16 year marriage where we never managed to get over our basic incompatibility, no matter how much we worked to improve our communication; my precious long-term friendships with wonderful understanding people who accepted and appreciated me completely, but never really shared my fuzzy passions. I explained how I do not identify with gender at all. How I see it as limiting our full humanity. How it is the characteristics that are ‘human’ that I find most attractive in people, and not those that are masculine or feminine. I shared about my commitment to nonviolence and equality. I described the personal growth and social transformation groups I have participated in.
Finally, they said we had better all go to sleep, because tomorrow will be an incredibly big day for all of us, but especially for me, if I agree to participate in their plans. I remembered then that earlier I had gotten the sense that they were planning something together telepathically. Finally, they could contain themselves no longer. In unison, they said, “You have to meet our friend Bernard! We already have a dinner date with him tomorrow. Please join us!” I was a little surprised at their sense of urgency, but eagerly intrigued at the idea of meeting someone who is so special to these two perfect angels. And doubly intrigued to meet him because they had said he looks so much like me that they had mistaken me for him! So, of course, I eagerly agreed.
As soon as we tried to go to sleep, we all noticed that we were still too keyed up and excited to fall asleep yet. This time, without the need for telepathy, all three of us had the same idea at the same time. By rubbing and caressing each other with and through the fur and angora surrounding us, we stimulated each other to repeated fluffy orgasms until we finally drifted to sleep in blissful fulfilled orgasmic exhaustion.
The next day, we went back to my hotel room briefly so I could change clothes and put on my favorite angora-blend v-neck sweater. Then, they took me to an incredibly fancy restaurant on an island in the St. Lawrence, where we had to ride in a horse-drawn carriage from the ferry dock to the restaurant, because there are no cars on the island. When we entered the restaurant, after hanging our fur coats among the others on the coat rack, they led me to a table where I could see someone already sitting with their back to us. All I could tell from the back as I approached was that the person had somewhat longer hair than mine and was wearing a lusciously fluffy angora cowl-neck sweater! This must be Bernard! I could already tell that I was really going to appreciate meeting him!
My and Bernard's First Night Together
As I was being introduced to Bernard I couldn't believe my eyes. He is ME!! He is slimmer, though. It was interesting to see what I will look like when I achieve my goal weight. And that gorgeous angora sweater he is wearing!!! I couldn't take my eyes off it while we were shaking hands, because I didn't want to just be shaking hands with a man in such a lusciously soft sweater. The soft fluffy fuzziness of it was so thick, and the way the fibers caught the light as they fluttered like ocean waves in the breeze, it stood out around him like a shining aura. Bernard immediately picked up on my thoughts and opened his arms for a warm welcoming hug. I sank ecstatically into the thick softness as I hugged Bernard. My hands roamed all around his back and shoulders, glorying in the feel. I nestled my face deep into the soft folds of the cowl collar. I was in heaven! Bernard whispered into my ear, as he hugged me even more enthusiastically, "Ohhh, this is the best hug I have ever had!! Nobody has ever appreciated hugging me in the fluffiness I was wearing the way you are, and I love it! Rub me all you want. I feel like I am finally being appreciated for all of what is really me, not just my intellect." I could tell that Bernard identifies as strongly with his fuzziness as I do, and so he knew and understood that my enthusiasm was for all of his being, which was finally reflecting mine, not just for the sweater itself. Everyone else that I had hugged while they were wearing something soft felt slighted, mistakenly feeling that I was ignoring them and just paying attention to what they were wearing. But I could tell that Bernard deeply understood that I was actually showing deep appreciation and affection to him, the person inside, in response to the lovely gift of hugging me while wearing something so yummy. Our embrace lingered on gloriously for what seemed blissfully like forever. Then, as I pulled my face out of his collar to gaze deeply into his eyes, he, at first slowly and tentatively, (not absolutely sure of how much I was open to with another man) and then, sensing my eagerness, enthusiastically pulled my head to his for a deep, passionate kiss. Our tongues roamed each other's mouths like a mouse in a new cage, wanting to explore and discover every inch. I was both surprised at myself and gleefully pleased, because this is not the way I usually kiss. But right now it seemed like the way to be kissing Bernard.
As I was kissing Bernard, I noticed, with both pleasure and a little surprise, that his face was as smooth as a woman’s. Yet he was obviously the same age as I, and yet in some way I didn't quite understand, he also looked a lifetime younger, like he is still a little kid. Noticing this just fired my passion and enthusiasm higher. Then, for a moment, I winced thinking "Ouch!" I remember what my transsexual friend told me it felt like to go through electrolysis to get her face to look and feel that way. I suddenly felt a little sorry for Bernard for what he must have gone through. Then, just as I was about to start being self conscious and disappointed about the rough scratchiness of my own shaven face, and really fearful of the pain I would have to endure if Bernard wanted me to get electrolysis too, he surprised and relieved me and gave me another happy gift by showing me that in one way he is not identical to me, but has preferences more like my transsexual friend. Whereas I am turned on by the soft smoothness of a woman's face, especially to brush my lips and cheeks against it, he showed by the way he rubbed his cheeks against mine that he really enjoyed and appreciated the sandpaper roughness of my shaven beard. How perfect! He is already the way I prefer, as unusual as that may be, and he actually prefers me just the way I am. This is heaven!
I suddenly thought for a moment that it was strange that I would think upon just being introduced to a complete stranger that I would even consider going through electrolysis for him. But I already knew that he and I are not complete strangers. We are soulmates, and from this moment on, being together for the rest of our lives is both of our highest priority. So it was natural that we cared what each other felt and thought.
Then I noticed that Bernard's face was so soft, he couldn't have gotten it by electrolysis. He obviously has never shaved. He still has peach fuzz! Yummm!!
While we stood there hugging and nuzzling each other's faces, with mine repeatedly dipping into his fluffy collar, Bernard said softly into my ear, "I am so glad you so obviously appreciate softness as much as I do. But come with me. I don’t want your neck to get chilled in that v-neck in this drafty old restaurant in the dead of winter in Quebec.” Then he led me by the hand over to the coat-rack where his fur-lined parka was hanging. He reached into the pocket and pulled out a long, lusciously fuzzy 100% angora scarf. He said, "Since not all my sweaters have turtleneck collars, I often need to wear this as protection against the winter cold. But as you have already so deliciously noticed, with this sweater, I don't need it tonight. I would much rather put it to better use seeing and feeling it on you!” And with that, he gently kissed me where my neck meets my chest, as it was exposed by the v-neck, and then he proceeded to wrap the angora scarf loosely around my neck, fluffing it up as he did, so it would tickle my cheeks and chin and even the bottoms of my ears. Then, he pulled me into the back of the closet, hidden behind his parka and the other fur coats, and he slowly and deliberately reached into my v-neck and tucked each end of the long, soft, fluffy angora scarf down the front of my chest under my sweater, rubbing my chest and belly with it as he went, and finally, to my gleeful surprise, wrapping the end around my penis and tucking it under my balls. OOOOhhhhh, YUM!!! He did the same thing with the other end as he did with the first, but even more slowly and deliberately, spending extra time rubbing my lower belly and crotch areas before wrapping and tucking the end. He nuzzled his face into the scarf around my neck as he did this, and whispered, "We can each enjoy deeply sniffing in the scrumptious odor of your crotch on the scarf ends when we take this off of you later." It was all I could do not to come right there and then, but I did not want my semen to ruin the angora. I could tell he had even better ideas awaiting us for later at home. Then, he really surprised me! Sensing the extreme intensity of my sexual turn-on, he knew that I was just kidding myself if I thought I could get through the evening or even another minute without coming with that angora wrapped around my penis. So, he pushed one of my hands up to hold the angora scarf over my face for me to nuzzle into it, while my other hand caressed his hair and face, his luscious angora sweater, and the fur coats around us, and he dropped to his knees, unzipped my pants, pulled out my penis while squeezing and rubbing the angora on my shaft, and covered the tip of my penis with his handkerchief just in time for me to uncontrollably cum!! Then he gently dried my penis tip off with his handkerchief, carefully wrapped the penis all back in the angora scarf while giving it a little kiss, zipped me up, and stood up to kiss me deeply. Then, with a smug, self-satisfied look on his face, he led me back out of the closet, stood back and looked at me carefully, and with a broad smile, said "Now, that's better." Then he whispered to me, “I only wish we did not live in this age of fear of diseases! I would have loved to have had you cum in my mouth and tasted your semen!”
I knew that even though the girls had given him no clue that he was meeting me tonight (he had thought he was just meeting them for dinner as usual) he was always ready for meeting his soulmate, anticipating and fantasizing about it every day, just like I did. We never knew exactly where or when or how, but we knew some day it would happen, and we knew exactly how we wanted it to be. And here it was, actually happening!!!!!
He walked me back to the table, rubbing the scarf around my neck with his hand as we walked. Then, to the girls (I had almost forgotten anyone else was there!) he said, "Okay, my darlings, now we can eat." He then greeted both of them with enthusiasm equal to what he had showed me. We ate leisurely and the four of us talked at the table for hours. After we all felt like we had already gotten to know each other as well as old lifelong friends, we decided it was time to go home.
When we all arrived at his house after dinner, I felt I already knew what it would be like, even though he had not yet described it in detail. I knew the house from my own lifelong fantasies. Not necessarily the architecture, but certainly the fluffy furry decor. And there they were, the thick soft sheepskin rugs on the floor, the Peruvian Alpaca artwork on the walls, the soft, cushiony, furry couches and furry pillows both on the couches and strewn around the floor, and the large stone fireplace warmly glowing and crackling. As soon as I noticed that it was a see-through fireplace, I also knew that his bedroom was on the other side of it. Seeing the peaked curiosity light up in my face, he led me around the dividing wall to show me the bedroom. It was everything I had ever dreamed and more! The fur-covered waterbed was actually four king-sized waterbeds put together! I knew right then, to my delight, that he enjoyed communal bed sex parties with intimate groups of friends as much as I did, but he was much better equipped than I was to accommodate a group of four to six or even eight people in bed. And there, next to the bed, was the same model spa that I have at home, except his had jets and headrests at every seat.
The girls started yawning loudly and obviously to cue their departure downstairs to leave us alone. At the same time, Bernard and I both said, "Thank you so much for bringing us together, and thank you for the privacy you are now offering us, but we will want you to join us back up here bright and early in the morning, before breakfast." They eagerly agreed, and ran downstairs to enjoy each other.
When we were alone, and after we came up for air from another long deep passionately rubbing kiss, this time through the fluff of his cowl collar pulled up over his face, when we finally pulled the collar back down, I noticed Bernard's smile suddenly faded and was replaced with a hesitant thoughtful look. As soon as he saw the consternation, disappointment and fear on my face showing that I thought he was having second thoughts about moving so fast at being together with me, he hastened to let me know he was ecstatically glad that we are getting together, and there is nothing wrong with me at all. Instead, his concern was that I might not fully accept him. "You see, I have been ashamed to tell you, and I am now even more ashamed and afraid to show you, but I am not as perfect as you may think. I am deformed. I have a serious birth defect."
I said, "I already know and love you well enough to know that you could not possibly have a birth defect that would seriously bother me or put me off. I have already told you on our ride over here about how I accepted my ex-wife’s heart problems. It was only her own nonacceptance of her problems and herself that became a problem between us. And I actually considered my one friend’s missing chromosome and another friend’s transsexuality as turn-ons. I choose to believe that if there is anything you have not been able to accept about yourself, our love can help you learn to accept it."
He said, "This is something about me that I have no problem accepting internally in myself, but other people have been so unaccepting and put off, even repulsed by it, that I have grown to be extremely self conscious and guarded about it, just like the twins are guarded about expressing their shared intimacy in front of others. As a matter of fact, the twins are the only people I have met so far who have been accepting of my deformity. I can only hope that if they were able to accept me, then certainly you, my soulmate, will too." And with that, he slowly pulled down his pants. I was turned on to see that his sweater was long dress length, like my favorite sweaters are. I laughed and said, "Oh, you wear angora dresses too. I do too, but none of mine are nearly as fluffy as yours." "No," he said, "you still have not seen what I am going to show you. I am not ashamed of being a transvestite. I had long since gotten over being self conscious about the clothes I wear. I am not actually a transvestite, anyway. I simply wear the soft fluffy clothes that I like and am comfortable in. I said that my deformity was a birth defect." And with that, he slowly raised the bottom of his sweater dress up to his waste. As he raised it, a tiny little boy style penis peaked out from beneath the thick blanket of fluff. Again I couldn't believe my eyes. I gasped with glee. And then, to make sure he did not misinterpret my involuntary response, I hastily said, "That's not a deformity. It's beautiful to me!" He said, "I have trouble believing you, because until I met the twins, everyone who saw me from the time I was thirteen on, either laughed at me derisively, or else they shrank away, saying they could not consider being sexual with someone whose penis had never matured. To make it worse, the reason my penis never matured is that I was born without testicles, only an empty scrotum sack. Thus, even as a small child I looked deformed, and my parents responded to me at first in such a self conscious manner that I became very ashamed and self conscious about my deformity. When I was an older child my parents and I both went through therapy, and my parents learned to consciously try to encourage me to accept myself as I am. But much damage had already been done to my self image. When all my friends, including my twin brother, went through puberty and I didn't, my self consciousness just increased. I am happy with my body the way it is, but I can't believe anyone else could be. The twins convinced me that they like me the way I am because I don't intimidate them with macho male sexuality the way all other men do. Also, I am different enough from other people that they can believe that I accept their incestuous love, while nobody else can. Conversely, because of their sexual love for each other, they are different enough from normal people that I can understand their understanding me. But I can tell from your scratchy face that you, although seemingly identical to me in all other ways, have gone through puberty, and therefore are basically a normal person. Thus I do not know how you can accept me."
I said, "My difference from most people, like that of the twins, is not physically visible, but instead it is my sexual orientation. And, like your undeveloped penis and the twins' love for each other, this is my deepest, darkest secret, about which I am not internally ashamed, but am completely guarded about sharing with others. I was wondering when in our getting to know each other I would feel safe enough to share this with you, but now I know it is necessary to share with you now. You see, although I have comfortably considered myself bisexual all my life, even long before I had that term to call it, I am just as intimidated by the size of an adult penis as any lesbian is. But I have secretly wished I could find an adult man with a small child-like penis for me to suck on. I do not express this wish to anyone I do not completely trust, for fear of being branded a child molester, which I am not. I would never think of doing anything to anyone that they did not want. I just love the smallness and delicateness of a tiny penis. And since tiny penises are found, until now, only on small children, they have been unavailable to me, except in my fantasies. Thus, seeing yours is literally a dream come true!"
And with that, I eagerly, but not imposingly, kneeled down and, after looking deep into his eyes to get his permission, I sucked his delicious little penis deep into my mouth, rubbing my face in his sweater as I sucked, and rubbing his buttocks with my hands over the soft fuzziness of his sweater. Heaven!! And the luscious smell of his groin made it doubly divine. He held my head to him expressing his ecstatic appreciation. He soon came to a passionate orgasm in my mouth.
To my surprise, his little penis did not squirt out any semen into my mouth. It just pulsed exultantly in a dry orgasm. I thought how lucky he was to never have to worry, as I had, about semen ruining his angora, nor about partners being turned off by the taste of it, as most of mine had been. Nor did he have to worry as I had about getting anyone pregnant, nor about transmitting venereal diseases through his penis. Wow, is he ever lucky!
(Editor's note: Although this scene is depicting unsafe sex on a first date, the reader should rest assured that I do not condone or promote such activity, much less engage in it. "Do not try this at home, boys and girls!" To the contrary, in my real life sexuality, I would not consider any unsafe sexual activity with a person until I had either satisfied myself that the person had been either celibate or monogamous for their whole life with a partner who had started as a virgin, or we had both passed at least two AIDS tests which were six months to a year apart. But that is the rule for my real life. This is just a fantasy, so there don't have to be any rules. Okay? Come on, cut me a break, will ya! Anyway, because he had never gone through puberty, his orgasms are dry, as I said, and thus he is safe.)
Then I suddenly remembered that he had just told me that his beautiful little penis had been a severe sexual turn-off to everyone he had met before the twins and me. I suddenly felt very sorry for him. But that was the past. From now on, the cute little darling would get all the loving attention it deserved. And with that thought, I proceeded to suck him to a second glorious orgasm, without ever actually breaking rhythm from the first.
As I sucked on him, my tongue ran around his scrotum, delicately poking and probing to explore his unique architecture. There I got another delightful surprise. His empty scrotum pushed back into his body, like a delicious but dry vagina. To my even greater delight, I noticed his shivers of ecstatic joy at the feeling of my tongue probing his love sack. He came again from that licking. Then I pulled my face up and nuzzled it into the sweater on his belly while I poked the hem of his sweater into the sack as an angora lubricating lining and rubbed it all around inside the sack with the my fingers, while my other hand gently rubbed his penis in the angora. Now I noticed, again with surprise, how stretchy and deep his scrotum/vagina could become, as I shoved my whole hand into it and rubbed it around inside him in every direction. He came again! Heaven is here! It felt so wonderful to be able to give him so much orgasmic joy!
Then we suddenly knew we both had gotten the same wonderful idea at the same moment, and nothing could hold back our rushing enthusiasm. We quickly tore all the clothes off my body, except for the angora scarf, whose ends were still wrapped around my stiffly erect penis, engulfing it completely to the tip. We leaped together gleefully and eagerly into the fur-covered waterbed, rolling all around over and over each other in it. He found one of his favorite pairs of angora jammie pants lying where he left it on the side of the bed, and hastily slipped them on me. He pulled them up to my waste, rubbing my feet, ankles, legs, thighs, hips, groin and buttocks stimulatingly as he did so. Then he pulled my penis gently but eagerly out through the fly slit of the angora jammies, and rubbed it with the angora of the scarf ends between his hands, while his tongue gently licked and his lips gently kissed the very tip of my penis, which just barely peaked out from under all the angora it was wrapped in. He adoringly said, "I have always wanted to be able to play with, rub and suck on a full-sized adult penis, but no man ever before took me serious sexually, so yours is my first. And how fittingly appropriate it is that my first up close sight and touch of an adult penis is all wrapped lusciously in angora. We will have plenty of time later for me to see it naked; right now, I want it just like it is. I want it deep within me."
He rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him, rubbing his naked legs up and down my angora covered legs, rubbing his hands over my angora covered buttocks, and in the process, rubbing his angora covered arms all over my sides and back, as my naked chest and face sank in to his angora-covered torso and neck, and my hands and arms rubbed passionately up and down his back from his neck to his buttocks. With one hand, he carefully guided my erect penis to the entrance of his inverted scrotum sack, and positioned his tiny member to nestle comfortably in the softness of the angora that lubricated between our bellies. I thrust deep into his sack, lubricated by the angora wrapping my penis. The feeling was unique and ecstatic! The fit was perfect. We both thrust with an intensity neither of us had ever even imagined before. After a lusciously exhausting long time, we both came explosively simultaneously. When our screaming moans died down, we could hear the girls loudly cheering and applauding downstairs to joyously let us know how loud we had been. We then collapsed completely limp and relaxed deep in each other's arms.
After we regained our breath enough to be able to talk again, he said, "Strange as it may seem, I have never before even fantasized about having a penis inside my scrotum sack. It just had not occurred to me, even though I have been stuffing fuzzys in there while I came ever since I first learned to come. OOhh, a fox tail feels wonderful in there! But I had always focused on rubbing my penis with more fuzzys to bring on my orgasms. I had paid more attention to rubbing my scrotum sack with fuzzys while it was hanging out, which is also delicious, but had just never thought how good it would feel to rub it while it was stuffed inside. Then, as soon as you began to probe me with your angora covered fingers, I knew that I wanted to have your penis dive deep into me and stay forever.
"But I could never have even dreamed that anything could possibly feel as wonderful as it felt when your hot squirt of semen shot against the throbbing sensitive lining of my scrotum sack, and its warm glow spread throughout my entire body! That gave me the greatest orgasm I have ever known! I now know what they mean when they say heroine is so addictive because of how incredibly strong and overwhelming the delicious rush of euphoria is."
I said, "Do you realize what a history making event this is? This may be the first time in all of human history that a mutual orgasm was achieved by squirting semen into an inverted scrotum sack?" He said, "You know, you're probably right."
"Furthermore, though this may have been the first such orgasm in human history, I certainly pray it won't be the last, but will be the first of many, many, many more we share like that, and hopefully, several of them tonight! But first, I have always wanted to taste semen squirting into my mouth. Since I don't produce any myself, and no man has ever consented to join me in bed before, I still do not know what it tastes like. I'd like to find out if feeling and tasting your semen squirt into my mouth and throat is anywhere near as orgasmically exciting as feeling it fill my scrotum sack."
And we did. And it was. And then we just had to keep comparing the two experiences, back and forth with variations all night, until we were satisfied that they are all just about equally satisfying. My penis felt best when he held it in his mouth and stimulated the bottom with his tongue while approaching me from below, lying between my legs. But my penis felt nearly as good, and my mouth got the extra joy of sucking on his penis at the same time, when we took the "69" position. We both also enjoyed my rubbing his scrotum sack with angora, either inside or outside, while I was sucking him. When I was inside his scrotum sack, it felt just as enjoyable to use lubricating gel as a wet lubricant as it felt to use angora as a dry lubricant. Ahh, the scientific joy of experimentation!
After dozing a few hours to recuperate from our sexual exhaustion, and then greeting each other with another mutual orgasm when we awoke, it finally occurred to us to discuss the strange circumstance that we look so much alike. I said, "I had always fantasized that somewhere I had an identical twin from whom I had always felt separated. I could never get rid of the deep lonely sensation of being separated from the rest of myself, and a main goal in life would be for us to reunite. Obviously, that has now happened, but I don't understand how we could be identical twins, since I was born in New York on March 21, 1949, and you are Canadian, and obviously much younger."
"Ohho!" he said, triumphantly. "That finally explains so much for me! We really are twins, my beloved brother. You see, I was born in New York City on that same day, while my parents were visiting the U.S. on vacation. I just look younger because I never went through puberty. I do have a fraternal twin brother, but he and I are so different from each other that I always felt something was not quite right. After he went through puberty, his personality and interests changed to be completely incompatible with mine, so we did not provide each other that special companionship through adolescence that so many twins do. We did share so much more though, before he went through puberty. For one thing, just like the twins downstairs, we slept together and enjoyed playing with each other's bodies and making love to each other as small children, whenever we could get away with it without our parents knowing. But after he reached puberty, he became purely heterosexual, which I could never understand. When my penis did not grow as his did, he started making fun of my tiny penis just like the other boys did in the bathroom or locker room. He found it more important to him at that time to fit in and be accepted by our peers than to maintain our special relationship. The more he distanced himself from me socially, the better accepted he was, and thus he managed to live down being the twin brother of a freak. I felt so betrayed and abandoned, by the one person I had always been closest to before. But I could not blame him for his choice, either. It was many friends or just me. He did what was best for him at the time.
"Now I know that he was not my real brother after all. You are! The hospital must have mixed the two of you up, during all the uproar of having a deformed baby born without testicles."
"Oh," I said, "then your brother was really the child of my parents. That explains why I spent my whole childhood feeling like I was lost in the wrong family! Everything is finally coming clear for both of us! We have to share our wonderful news with the girls, and all celebrate together!" Then we both yelled together, "Oh, girrrllls, come on up here, quickly! We have something especially wonderful to share with you."
Babette and Monique came running upstairs like two children who had just been told that they could go ahead and unwrap their Xmas presents an hour earlier than usual this year. They literally leaped into the bed from their full run like a racing pair of triatheletes diving into the swimming portion of their competition. The jolt on the water bed when they both landed simultaneously in an even tie felt like what I imagine the initial jolt of a magnitude 10 earthquake would feel like. (For comparison, the San Francisco 1906 quake was only 8.5 on the Richter scale.) After carefully avoiding landing on top of Bernard and me so as to prevent serious injuries, they both immediately rolled into our arms, snuggling and rubbing each other with our mutual fluffiness, and we rolled over and over and over, giggling and wiggling all over the big bed. I had no idea whether the girl in my arms was Monique or Babette, and it felt even more exciting to roll around with her, knowing that it really did not matter in the slightest to any of the four of us which one it was. My sense of excitement and satisfaction soared even higher when I realized in a flash that when my face and hands are all covered in angora, as I prefer them to be, that I can not even tell whether the lover in my arms is Bernard or one of the girls, and the joy is even greater. Our love among the four of us is uniquely boundaryless and distinctionless.
After we all finally settled down from our seemingly endless frolic, into a tangled but relaxingly comfortable pile of bodies and limbs, each resting his or her head on a soft pillowy part of one of the others, Bernard and I finally told the girls the great news of how he and I had confirmed that we were in fact identical twin brothers, separated at birth by a hospital mix-up. As we knew they would be, the girls were just as excited about the news as we were, even though it had been obvious to them, as soon as they had seen the two of us together in the restaurant. While we did not look absolutely identical, like the girls did, because I looked older and heavier than Bernard, we did look like the same person at two different ages, and that much family resemblance could not just be due to simple coincidence.
As our bodies in the tangle began to rub each other’s fluffyness in joyous celebration, my mouth instinctively found Bernard's delicious little penis and sucked it in deeply while my face nuzzled ecstatically into the fluffiness surrounding it, as he lay on his back with his body at a right angle to mine, making him the cross of a "T" of which I was the vertical stroke. At the same time, one of the girls sucked briefly on my penis from below as I was kneeling over intent on Bernard's. As soon as she was sure I was stiff enough for penetration, she quickly allowed her sister's fluffy body to slide in under mine, and guided me into the waiting vagina, licking the shaft of my penis as it entered and then feathering the labia with her expert tongue as I slowly plunged in and out through the layers of fluff. Then, as I continued thrusting in Babette(?)'s vagina, Monique(?) repositioned herself to lie on the top of the pile, across me at an angle, so Babette(?), whose head rested on Bernard's thigh next to mine at his groin, could lick her clitoris, while she Monique(?) kissed Bernard deeply on the mouth on the other side of me. We all giggled a little, thinking there must be some simpler way to do this, and we'll find many ways in due time, but we were all feeling too wonderful and having way too much fun right then to really care how incredibly complicated our combination of positions was. Our bodies joined in a wavelike rhythm that very gradually intensified, until we all finally burst into a super nova of simultaneous orgasms. Exhausted, we lay there limp for a while, right in the same tangle, until we regained enough strength to untangle ourselves and lie flat on our backs in a row, like four fluffy frankfurters lined up next to each other in the package. It felt good to let our spines relax into the comfortable support of the waterbed, while the fronts of our bodies aired out. We were so blissfully far into Nirvana, that it did not even occur to any of us to look and see who was lying where. We just floated there in a silent row, totally relaxed.
Finally, I mentioned that I had suddenly noticed that I neither knew nor cared who was where, because I loved them all equally. One of the girls (Babette by the tone of voice) responded that to her own surprise, she was also feeling equally as comfortable with Bernard and me as she was with her own twin sister. Monique agreed that she had never expected to feel as comfortable with anyone else as she was with Babette, but she too now felt so with the two of us.
I then remarked that though I sometimes could tell the difference in their voices, as I thought I could at that time, I usually could not tell the difference between the girls, and consequently mostly thought of them just as "the girls" rather than considering them individually. I asked whether they felt slighted or discounted by my not paying attention to their individuality. They both giggled gleefully and said that they are flattered and deeply appreciative that I see them that way, because that is the way they see themselves. They reminded me how they had resisted their parents' attempts to individualize them. Bernard said, "I've known them both as teacher and intimate friend now for years, and I still can't tell them apart for sure. And because they are such mischievous mistresses of deception, often intentionally taking on each other's personalities, one can never even be sure from the tone of voice which is which." They giggled again. He continued, "I have, however, persisted through the years in trying to find some sure way of distinguishing between them, out of the sheer sense of challenge that it offers, and also because my university administration insists that I must grade them separately. At first, the dean required that I only allow one of them to enroll in a given class at a time, so that I could keep track of who was earning what grades by keeping track of the classes separately. But they made sure that neither I nor anyone else could tell for sure which one had actually shown up for which class on any particular occasion, and they finally convinced the dean to allow them to attend classes together again. Thus, alas, they have eluded me, much to my frustration. Carl, you may in fact be the wiser of us, to not even worry about which is which." Again, they giggled their agreement.
From that night on, the four of us mostly slept together in the big bed. And when that occasionally was not the arrangement, we did not make any big deal about which particular combination we happened to be in at any given moment.
Over the next several days and nights, we tried an uncountable number of combinations of positions. For sexual positions, we found that we all preferred positions in which both our mouths and our genitals were simultaneously engaged in enjoying each other. None of us liked to feel that any square inch of our body was being left out of the mutual fuzzy stimulation, so we were usually tangled up in ecstatic fluffy knots with each other.
Sleeping, we found, was where the greatest variety of positions were enjoyed. Sometimes, some of us wanted to sleep with a breast or penis in our mouth to suck on in and out of sleep. Miraculously, at those same times, some of us wanted to sleep with our penis or breast being sucked on; what a coincidence! Sometimes, though, some of us also wanted to sleep with our faces free to feel the briskness of the cool night air. Sometimes someone even wanted their whole body left alone to enjoy the relaxing coolness of the air or warmth of the fluffy bedding. All combinations were equally okay.
Whenever anyone wanted someone to cuddle and snuggle up with, someone was there eagerly, even if sleepily, willing. Whenever anyone wanted to get frisky, someone else was more than glad to get in on the fun. Whenever, someone had something they wanted to talk about, there was always someone willing to listen. Getting everyone ready to listen at the same time was just a little more challenging, but we managed to do it whenever we had to.
We also found, profoundly, that whether we were sharing our intimate thoughts and feelings verbally, engaging in orgasmic sex acts, or just lovingly holding and caressing each other in and out of sleep, it was all equally love making to us. Thus, we were always making love, every moment we were in bed together, and for that matter, much of the time we were together out of bed.
My favorite position is to be sucking on Bernard's penis while nuzzling my face into the angora fluff surrounding it, while I'm inside Babbette's vagina, lying on top of her, while Monique is kneeling behind me and lying on top of me, rubbing the angora between us into my tushy and back, while thrusting me deeper into Babette, as she leans over me to kiss Babette deeply on the lips. (I could tell whether it was really Monique behind me, because she would thrust more vigorously than Babette, and I like the vigorous supportive thrusting from behind.) I also enjoy having Bernard behind me so his tiny little penis can thrust delicately into my anus and orgasm triumphantly within me, while thrusting me into one girl's vagina while I am sucking milk from the other's breast. But when all is considered, I enjoy sucking Bernard's delicious little penis into my mouth far more often than I want it in my anus. Anyway, Monique has become quite adept at gently probing my anus with her slender finger while she is thrusting behind me, so I can feel like I have two Bernards inside me, one at each end.
I love being in the middle of this writhing fluffy sandwich, covered head to toe in angora. One of my arms is rubbing Babbette's back, neck, head, butt, side and breast beneath me, while the other hand is rubbing Bernard's legs, thighs, groin, side, back, chest, belly, whatever I can reach, while my mouth is deeply sucking on his penis and my face nuzzles into the angora fluff surrounding it. He really likes when I am rubbing his scrotum sack with angora, and especially when I thrust angora fingers into it in rhythm with my sucking on him. I always like him to cum with me.
I am usually the one all covered in angora, leaving them free to wear or not wear whatever they want, while everything I feel is still all angora to me. But I especially love the times that they all indulge me by them all wearing angora and letting my naked body feel completely surrounded and supported by their angora softness.
’And a good time was had by all.’
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