The Bunny and the Wolf
Copyright© 2026 by Dragonpig
Chapter 3
Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 3 - An older wolf meets a younger bunny during a bus trip. An unexpected encounter sparks the beginning of a new relationship.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Teenagers Consensual Romantic BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Mystery Science Fiction Furry Magic Incest Father Daughter Uncle Niece Anal Sex Masturbation Oral Sex Petting Pregnancy Clergy Teacher/Student Prostitution
Ruth
The warmth of the brightly lit sanctuary wrapped around me like a comforting blanket, the sound of the organ reverberating through the massive hall. My amber eyes flicked up to the stage, where my father, a towering figure of silver fur and conviction, stood before the congregation. The lights cast him in a near-holy glow, his voice rising and falling like the tides of the sea, commanding the attention of every soul in the sanctuary. My chest swelled with pride as I sat in the front pew, barely able to contain the smile tugging at my lips. This was my father, my hero, the man who could bend the world to his will with just his words. The fire in his speech ignited something inside me, the sheer power of his presence made me love him even more.
I watched the faces of the congregation as they hung on his every word, some nodding in fervent agreement, others weeping softly as his brimstone and fire sermon scorched their hearts and liberated their souls. He spoke of sin, of redemption, his voice thick with authority and charisma. My tail curled around me, a silent echo of the pride that pulsed through my veins. He was everything I admired, everything I aspired to. And as he spoke, I felt special. I was his daughter. I was the one who got to be close to him, the one who saw him not just as the preacher behind the pulpit but as the man behind the message. My father. I loved him more than words could express.
The service ended with a thunderous round of applause and as he stepped down from the pulpit, his eyes met mine. A small, knowing smile touched his lips and I felt the familiar flutter in my chest. I followed him out, the crowd parting for him as though he were a king among men. The outside world seemed muted as we climbed into the back of the sleek, black limousine, the door closing with a soft click that sealed us in our own private world. One of the parishioners, a nameless face I’d seen in the pews, sat in the driver’s seat, now operating as our devoted chauffeur.
The leather seat was cold against my legs as I slid in beside him, but the chill melted away the moment his arm draped casually over the back of the seat, brushing against my shoulders. I snuggled closer to him without thinking, my body seeking the comfort that only he could provide. The streets outside blurred as the car rolled forward, but here, it was just the two of us. “What did you think of the sermon, Ruth?” he asked, his voice softer now, but still carrying that same undeniable power. I looked up at him, eyes wide, filled with nothing but adoration.
“It was amazing, Daddy,” I replied, my words almost a whisper. “You were ... perfect. They all loved it. I loved it.” My tail twitched with excitement as I shifted even closer, the warmth of his body radiating through the fabric of his tailored suit. He smiled at me, that same smile that made my heart skip a beat, the one that said I was special, that I was his. My Father’s hand moved to rest on the back of my neck, the gesture so natural, so familiar. I leaned into him, pressing myself into his firm Palm, basking in the moment. “They hang on every word,” I continued, my voice reverent, “because you’re brilliant, Daddy. No one else could do what you do.”
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through my body, making me feel as though we were connected by something more than just blood. I glanced to the left at him, his profile sharp and strong against the Passing background of the city outside. He was everything. And here, alone with him, I felt like I was the only one who truly understood his greatness. I rested my hand on his inner thigh, feeling the source of his tension and need and I let out a small, contented sigh. This was where I belonged by his side, basking in his glory, in the knowledge that I was his most loyal follower.
“You understand me, Ruth,” he murmured, his hand moving in slow, comforting strokes along the back of my neck. “You see me for who I really am.” His words were like honey, sweet and smooth and they filled me with a deep sense of satisfaction. I gazed at him, my eyes wide, my chest tight with a love so pure, so consuming, that it was almost painful.
“I love you,” he said and the world seemed to stop. My heart soared as if those were the words I longed to hear. My hand slid up his thigh, toward his zipper, past it toward his belt. Eagerly, I quickly unbuckled his belt and slid it from its entrapment, like we were a well-coordinated team. He sat up enough for me to slide his pants off his hips, along his tail and buttocks and down to his ankles to let loose that which I wished to worship with my mouth. After all this time, I still took a moment to gaze upon his lengthy girth and look upon the beauty that was him and with reverence, I took him in my hands and guided him to my hungry mouth.
“Ruth, that’s it,” he said lovingly as he stroked my ears with his strong fingers. I moaned with joy to let him know that I was happy to help him relieve his stress in my own special way. As I continued to take care of him in the way that he had taught me, I could hear his sporadic praises being whispered to me, “Good girl, I love you, my Ruth,” “Yes Max.” What’s that, I thought, who’s Max? I continued showing him my love, moving my head up and down and maintaining the suction that he so loved. I began to hear the raindrops fall upon the top of the limousine. This doesn’t make any sense, I thought. It shouldn’t be raining; it was sunny when we got into the limo. I ignored the inconsistencies when I heard my father’s breath quicken and his member began that familiar throbbing he always did before he emptied himself into my eagerly awaiting mouth. In anticipation of his release, I wrapped my arms around the back of his hips to hold him tightly.
But as I braced myself for his ejaculation, I heard a growl of pleasure a different sound, not my father’s. Abruptly, my eyes snapped open. I was lying in bed having that familiar dream, the dream I always had of him, the dream of the past. I looked around my hotel room, still feeling that old familiar warmth between my furry thighs. As I absentmindedly slid my fingers down to my moist pussy and down to my awaiting anus. Then I heard it the couple next door, their words and moans mingling with the sound of water splashing. So that’s what I heard in my dream, I thought, smiling to myself.
As I heard the couple in their shower continue with their play, I thought, I remember when I still was that innocent and naïve, believing that love is all you would need in this life. But Father, you taught me that wasn’t true, didn’t you? Just like all the other lessons you taught me, I thought bitterly.
Hearing the feminine voice say, “That’s it, Max. Let’s get it all out of you. See, I know how to take care of my man. I like making you feel good!”
I found my traitorous fingers beginning to explore my moist folds. Noticing what I was doing, I stopped myself. No, I’m not doing this. He doesn’t deserve this from me after all these years. I’m not doing this. I hate you, Father. I hate you.
But even as I thought that, as if my fingers had a mind of their own, they slid down to our special spot my anus, the part of my body that he first made his, the part of my body where we shared my first anal orgasm. That part of me he said was our secret, our special connection.
Come on, Ruth, the darker part of me said. Who are you kidding? You want to do this. You need to do this. No, I thought back. I’m stronger than this. I don’t have to do this. Stop lying. You know you want to.
As if that part of me took control, I found myself sitting up, reaching over to the small nightstand and pulling out the object the Punisher. The long latex phallus was so similar to his. It was still slick from the last time I used it.
As if on autopilot, I lay back on my bed and drew my knees up to my chest. With inevitability, I placed it at our special spot. As if to take some measure of control, I wasn’t gentle with myself. I forced it into the ring of resisting muscle and with a whimper, I relaxed, thinking, With this minor bit of rebelliousness, I can take back my soul.
But it didn’t happen. As in everything in my life, my body betrayed me. With a familiar motion, my anus relaxed and allowed the Punisher to enter me. But I felt betrayed by my body, by my choices.
So I let the Punisher do what it was meant to do roughly pushing it in and out, in and out of the anus that my father had made claim of, trying to get redemption from the act. But as I continued my absolution, I felt it: the familiar pleasure, the desire, the need.
The unwanted memory of my father permeated my mind the first time he had me this way. How sweet he was. How gentle he was. How even in this forbidden act, he brought me so much bliss.
And with that memory strongly in my mind, his presence in my soul, I felt it the deluge of ecstasy, washing away all of my rebelliousness. And with a howl of pleasure and a curl of my toes, I cried out his name: “Daddy. I hate you. I love you. I ... I...”
To read the complete story you need to be logged in:
Log In or
Register for a Free account
(Why register?)
* Allows you 3 stories to read in 24 hours.