It was a long time ago, yet it seems like only yesterday, that I tasted the sweet essence of Rogue.

I was working as a live-in volunteer at a wolf sanctuary; a place that took-in wolves that were adopted as pets when they were puppies by people wholly unprepared for the inevitability of dealing with a full-grown wild animal.

Sadly, too many were abandoned. Not ready to live as a wolf, but unable to live as a human's companion. They were trapped between two worlds with the only way out the path to darkness.

That's why the sanctuary was there; to offer a place of refuge for these confused, but beautiful individuals. We cared for them, fed them, gave them as much attention as they would welcome, and let them live out there lives as naturally as possible.

The wolves lived in large fenced-in pens, each offering privacy and a bit of their natural environment. On the surface, it may sound no better than a prison, but considering the alternatives it was at least life.

I remember my first night there. The wolves sang like sweet minstrels of the night to me as I slept; their haunting lupine melody chorused through my dreams.

After I was there for about a week, the wolves began to recognize me. My task was just maintaining the appearance of the compound, as we would accept visitors to help support the sanctuary financially. As I went on my rounds, the wolves would watch with detached curiosity.

Each wolf had a distinct personality; some were very curious-even friendly; others lurked in the shadows and I barely knew they were there; some would pace with nervousness trepidation.

And then there was Rogue...

Rogue was a gray-brown wolf with bright brown eyes whose expression radiated raw nature. Like the others, he was hand raised by the ill-prepared, and when he reached adulthood, could not live as a domestic housepet.

Well, at the time the sanctuary was short-handed, and they asked me to go into the pens to remove the spoiled carcass portions the wolves didn't eat (We fed them raw meat portions cut directly from cows). It was an unpleasant job, but needed to be done for the sake of the health of the wolves.

Anyway, everybody else was out on errands or busy with other things. For the first-and-only time I was there, I was alone with the wolves.

There were a few wolves there that I wasn't allowed around, but Rogue was a captive-bred. He wasn't dangerous per se, just unfriendly, so I was allowed to go into his pen.

I was searching over his pen, looking for bones to remove when I noticed he was following me around. He had never done this before, and I had been there long enough to know his reputation and to see this was unusual behavior for him. I stood and faced him, remembering not to look directly into his eyes as if to challenge him in his own territory. To my surprise, he just sauntered-up to me and nuzzled my glove (we wore gloves to handle the rather unpleasant spoiled carcass parts). I took the glove off and he sniffed my fingers, then he started licking them!

I don't remember Rogue ever licking anybody before, so this was an exhilarating experience for me to be accepted in this manner by such a powerful and beautiful creature. It thrilled me and emboldened me.

Now that I think about it, it was not the brightest thing to do, but I sat on the ground right in front of Rogue and petted his muzzle. He turned his side to me and let me scratch his back. It felt wonderful to run my fingers through that thick fur! I pressed hard, reaching his skin, and his whole body shuddered with delight-I was giving him pleasure, and I was gratified in the extreme.

Rogue let out a little moan and just flopped over on his side, then wriggled onto his back, leaning up against me; very uncharacteristic behavior for a wolf not part of a pack-and no alpha male was I! He let me rub his chest, then boldly, I went lower and lower. He turned his head away from me as if to say, "I trust you."

I rubbed his nearly-furless abdomen and then got up the nerve to touch his sheath. His body tensed slightly, then relaxed. I started stroking his sheath gently at first, then with a little more pressure and it felt nice! I fondled his ample scrotal sac and stroked him more. then, I took a chance and leaned over, gently planting a kiss on the soft skin of his sheath. Then another. Incredibly, he remained calm-almost as if he expected this-

Or enjoyed this...

Or wanted this...

I could feel his sheath beginning to warm-up against my lips, as I swarmed this delicate area with gentle oral attentions. I went from kissing to licking, tasting his raw canine flavor as I stroked him with my tongue. I could feel a firmness within his sheath as his wolfhood was becoming manifest. Soon I could see as well as feel him bulging within his sheath.

Quaking and breathing shallowly, I pulled his sheath back with my fingers and his phallus just slipped out! It was dark pink, glistening, and throbbing slightly; reeking of wolfmusk. At the base of his shaft was a large, purplish knot of flesh. This gland is what wolves and dogs use to "tie" themselves to their mates during breeding.

My whole body trembled at the sight of Rogue's magnificent breeding equipment, my own becoming quite engorged as well. I was thankful I was wearing loose-fitting coverall this day and glad we were alone to share this rare and special moment, but more was yet to come!

I bent over and kissed his knot of flesh while I stroked his shaft. I then started kissing the length of his penis, licking him as well to keep him moist and comfortable. It was warm and had a strong metallic smell, but very little taste.

All this time, he laid still, wriggling just slightly to keep himself comfortable. It was as if he wanted this to happen as much as I. The magic between us had granted us both one wish today.

When I reached the tip of his penis, I licked him and slowly started to take his wolfhood into my mouth and suckled contentedly on his male udder while stroking my own.

I tasted a tangy flavor that caused me to salivate profusely as I suckled him. Then Rogue's hip bucked slightly and a hot, brackish fluid began squirting into my mouth. At first, I thought it was urine, but then realized it wasn't; it was prostatic fluid, the first element of lupine ejaculation! I swallowed it quickly so I wouldn't choke, knowing it would not harm me. I had ingested dog semen before, and never became ill from it, save for a mild sore throat.

This went on-and-off for about a minute, then a thicker serum erupted from the wolf's penis. This was his semen, laced with his seed. I tasted its slick, salty-sweetness and gently milked his phallus for every drop I could get, and for a while, there seemed to be a neverending supply of it!

Finally, there was another gush of the prostatic fluid to wash the semen forward. There was so much of it that I became worried about taking too much into me and let it dribble out of the side of my mouth and onto the wolf's belly, but he didn't seem to mind. Needless to say while I was doing this I was also working myself with my free hand, and climaxed as I milked my lupine lover.

After we were done, I stayed with him, being a firm believer in "afterplay"; post-climactic hugging and snuggling: it lets the animals know that they mean more to you than just a quick, cold "yiff"!

He laid on his side now, a look of supreme contentment on his face. I stroked him gently. I tried to kiss him on the muzzle, but he wouldn't allow it. Finally, he just got up, relieved himself against a tree, and walked away.

What surprised me was that a wolf could ejaculate while lying on his back, and how he suddenly became aroused just that once. Afterward, he was friendlier to me, but we were never that close again.

All I can figure is he was all alone in his pen, because he would get into fights too easily with other wolves, and just had so much pent-up sexual tension that he needed a release. He must have sensed I would help him in his time of need. Animals are magical about that.

That was my one-and-only sexual experience with a wolf. I never really had a chance for another the rest of the time I was there because there was always somebody around from then on.

Nevertheless, even after all these years (and Rogue has surely passed on since), the gift Rogue had given me still lives within me as the image of his beautiful body, beautiful face, his shining eyes, and the satisfaction that for one shining moment in his life, I made him happy.