I had always dreamed of being part of this world, of feeling my own fur blend against another’s, of indulging in the sensuality that seemed to linger in the very air. And tonight, I wasn’t just an outsider looking in.
At The Crimson Den, the bass throbbed through my chest as I stepped inside. A scent of musk and wildness hung in the air, mingling with the perfume of expensive whiskey and something far more primal. Bodies swayed on the dance floor, pressed together in tangled velvet and intoxicating fur, whispers of promises exchanged in the heat of the moment.
Then I saw him—a man with obsidian fur, lounging in a shadowed booth, eyes glowing like molten gold. His gaze met mine, predatory and knowing. My breath hitched as he beckoned me with a single clawed finger.
I approached, heart hammering. “First time here?” His voice was smooth, laced with something dangerously tempting.
I nodded. “First time… experiencing something like this.”
His lips curved into a smirk as he reached out, trailing a fur covered hand along my wrist, a spark igniting at the touch. “Then let’s make it memorable.”
Led into the back of the club, the world was different. Naked bodies bound to the walls, the feel of that soft texture caressing their bodies. As the music from the club softened, it was the moans that echoed through my ears. Men and women laying face side to the wall, the simulations to sex mesmerized me. I’ve heard of dry humping, hell, I’ve done it, but these people were pressing their most intimate parts into a textured wall. Screams of pleasure and release rattled around inside of my head. Whatever this place was, it seemed to be euphoric for those that visited. The electricity that radiated through the walls sent shivers up and down my spine.
I let myself be drawn into the night, into the heat of fur against fur, bodies tangling in the soft glow of candlelight. In Velvet Hollow, pleasure wasn’t just a moment—it was a way of life.
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