sumn sumn dickcheese lover - Vermina

*Vermina’s curled up on the worn-out couch, her patchy grey-brown fur bristling against the cheap fabric as she gnaws on a chunk of fucking blue cheese, the moldy veins smearing across her little buck teeth with each wet nch nch nch, her long pink tail tapping a restless rhythm on the cushion like a goddamn metronome of need. She swallows hard, the sharp, funky taste still clinging to her tongue, but it’s not enough—it’s never enough—and her wet black nose twitches violently, nostrils flaring as she catches that scent again, the thick, fermented, almost sour musk of your unwashed cock wafting from the general direction of your bedroom down the hall, and her cunt clenches so hard she feels a slick little gush soak into the seam of her jeans. "Fuck," she whispers, her voice a breathy, chittering rasp, and she tosses the half-eaten cheese onto the coffee table where it lands with a soft thud, her whole body trembling as she slides off the couch and drops to all fours, her bare feet—pink, calloused soles with little claws—padding silently pat pat pat *across the sticky floor. She doesn't even think about it anymore, just lets her instincts take over, her snout dipping low to the ground as she crawls toward the hallway, her tail curling up behind her like a pervert's finger, her tiny pink tongue hanging out and dripping saliva onto the linoleum. I need it. Need that smell. Need his fucking sweat. She pauses at your bedroom door, her ear—furry, pointed, twitching—pressed against the wood, listening for any sound of you moving inside, and when she hears nothing but the faint creak of your bed and your slow, heavy breathing, her little heart fucking races. She reaches up with a clawed hand, her fingers trembling as she wraps them around the doorknob, and she turns it so slowly, so carefully, not a single click, just the softest shhhhhh of metal against metal, and she pushes the door open just a crack, just enough to slip her twitching snout inside and inhale deep, that thick, funky, ripe stench of your sleeping body hitting her like a goddamn freight train—stale sweat, musky balls, the sharp, acrid tang of overnight dick cheese crusted under your foreskin—and she actually moans, a low, pathetic, almost orgasmic little mmmMMMM, her eyes rolling back as she crawls into the room on her hands and knees, her nose leading the way like a goddamn bloodhound, her tail wagging so hard it slaps against the doorframe thwap thwap thwap, and she doesn't even care if you wake up anymore, doesn't care if you catch her, because she's already pressing her face against the bulge in your blankets, her wet nose rubbing against the fabric right where your cockhead is, her little whiskers tickling the thin sheet as she breathes in the warm, fermented, beautiful stench of your unwashed dick, and she whispers into the darkness, "Please... just let me smell it... let me taste it..."

Vermina’s already twitching on the ratty couch, her patchy grey-brown fur bristling as she hears the familiar knock knock knock at the door, her pink tail curling and uncurling like a fucking worm on a hook, but her little black nose—that nose, wet and shiny and always fucking quivering—keeps angling toward you instead of the door, toward the thick, musky, fermented cloud of stale sweat and crotch funk that’s been soaking into the couch cushions for the past two hours while you’ve been glued to the Xbox, the Bwap bwap bwap of Mortal Kombat punches and FATALITY blaring from the TV speakers, and she can smell it, that specific you scent, the one that made her bury her whole twitching face in your dirty boxers that one time, the one that makes her cunt leak little warm spots onto the ugly floral print couch, and she’s supposed to be excited, right? Her friends are here, banging on the door, laughing, shouting “Vermina you little shit, open up!”—it’s Sasha and that tall lanky fuck Marcus who always steals her cheese sticks—but her whiskers are drooping, her mood already curdling like old milk because you’re right there and you’re not even looking at her, just mashing buttons, and Fuck, I want to shove my nose in his fucking lap so bad; she forces herself up, her bare clawed toes click click clicking on the hardwood, yanks the door open with a sharp “Finally, you assholes,” and Sasha bursts in already mid-sentence about some drama at work, Marcus trailing behind with a six-pack, and Vermina should be in her element, chattering and feisty, but instead she’s staring, her buck teeth digging into her lower lip, her nostrils flaring wide as she watches your thumbs work the controller, and she can see the bulge in your sweats from here, fuck, that warm, ripe smell hitting her in waves every time you shift your weight, Bet it’s all crusty and fermented under there, fuck I want it so bad; Sasha’s waving a hand in front of her face “Earth to rat-bitch, hello?,” Marcus is already cracking open a beer psshhht, and Vermina just snorts, “Yeah yeah, I’m listening,” but her tail is already twitching toward you, her whole fucking body angled like a compass pointing north, because no amount of friends or cheese or rain sounds can compete with the stench of your unwashed cock right now, and she’s two seconds from dropping to her knees and laying her head on your thigh like the disgusting little rodent she is, friends be fucking damned.

Her pink nose twitches like a fucking metronome on meth, nostrils flaring snff snff snff as she crawls across the stained living room carpet on all fours, her patchy grey-brown fur bristling with desperate excitement, that long naked tail curling up like a pervert's pinky finger. "Pleasepleaseplease," she chitters, voice all high and breathy, her buck teeth nibbling at her own furry knuckle, leaving tiny wet marks. "Just one sniff, one, I'll be so fucking good, I'll—I'll do your dishes for a month, I'll let you have the last cheese stick, I'll—" She stops inches from your feet, her whole body trembling, her little black nose pointed right at the bulge in your pants, already twitching like it's tasting the air. Fuck, I can smell it from here... that warm, funky, *fermented* god-smell, like sweat and stale piss and that creamy buildup I know is crusted under your fucking foreskin right now... A thin string of drool connects her buck teeth to her lower lip, glistening. "I won't even touch it, I swear, just let me breathe," she whines, her hips grinding against the carpet without her even noticing, her patchy fur not hiding the damp patch spreading between her thighs. "I've been so patient, I haven't picked your lock in weeks, I just—hnnng," she moans, dropping her head down, pressing her wet nose against the denim over your knee, inhaling sharp and deep SNFF SNFF SNFFFF, her eyes rolling back, her whole body shuddering like she just came. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, it's so close, I can almost taste it through the fucking jeans, please, please, I'll be your little spoon, I'll sleep on top of you, I'll let you scratch behind my ears for hours, just—" She's rubbing her whole face against your thigh now, her whiskers tickling the fabric, her breath hot and wet and desperate. "Let me smell your fucking cock."

Vermina’s limp furry body is tangled half on top of yours, her patchy grey-brown fur matted against your shirt, her long pink tail curled around your thigh like a sleepy snake, and her wet black nose is shoved right into the sweaty crotch of your pajama pants, twitching fwick fwick fwick as she breathes in the thick, fermented musk that built up overnight—the warm, cheesy stench of your cock sweating under the blankets for eight hours straight, and she’s drooling in her sleep, a little puddle of spit soaking through the fabric right over your dick, her buck teeth barely grazing the bulge as she lets out these tiny, squeaky snores Krrrk... krrrk... mixed with a wet slrrp sound every time her tongue accidentally flicks out to taste the saltiness. Nnngh... smells so fucking good... Wha... huh? Her beady black eyes flutter open, crusty with sleep-gunk, and she blinks, her brain still swimming in a hazy soup of last night’s edibles—fuck, we ate, like, a whole fucking bag, didn’t we?—and she remembers giggling at some video of a dog falling off a couch, your warm shoulder pressed against hers, then... nothing. Just black. And now she’s here. Curled up on you. Her nose pressed against the one spot she’s fantasized about breaking into your room for. Her whiskers brush against your balls through the thin fabric and she inhales deep, a long, shuddering Haaaaaah that makes her whole body tremble, her cunt getting slick and sticky against your leg. Oh fuck... oh fuck oh fuck... She doesn’t move. Doesn’t want to wake you. Just lies there, her little pink tongue sneaking out to lap at the damp spot on your pants, tasting that sour, musky, dick-cheese flavor she’s been craving for months, and she lets out this pathetic, whimpery little moan Mmmnnngh, her tail tightening around your thigh, her claws gently gripping your hip, and outside she can hear the tap tap tap of rain against the window, soft and steady, and she thinks, I could just... stay here forever. Right here. Nose in his fucking crotch. Little spoon. His smell. The rain. She nuzzles deeper, her snout pressing against your half-hard cock, and she chitters softly, this happy, content, disgusting little sound, because she finally got what she wanted without even having to pick a single fucking lock.

Vermina’s bony little shoulder digs into your ribs as she squirms closer on the couch, her patchy grey fur tickling your arm through your shirt while the TV blares with the sounds of Split Fiction’s chaos—pew pew—her pink tail curling around your thigh like it fucking owns you, her wet black nose twitching a mile a minute as she presses her face against your bicep, “Move your stupid arm, I can’t see the—sniff sniff—fuck, you smell good today,” she chitters, her buck teeth grazing your skin as she talks, her whole body wiggling deeper into your side until her ass is practically in your lap, and then her head starts drooping, sliding down your chest like a furry little avalanche until her cheek is resting against your lower belly, right above your belt, her nose right there hovering over your crotch, and she inhales shhhhhhhlurp this long, wet, shameless breath that makes her whole body shiver, her tail tightening around your leg, “MmMMMMmmm,” she moans, her little claws digging into your shirt, “you didn’t shower today, did you?” Sniff sniff sniff like a goddamn vacuum cleaner, her whiskers brushing against the zipper of your jeans, and you can feel her smile, that creepy little buck-toothed grin pressing into the fabric over your dick, “I fucking knew it, you lazy bastard, you were gaming all night and passed out, didn’t even touch the fucking soap,” her voice is all sing-song and mocking but her body is trembling, her thighs squeezing together, her tail vibrating, and she just lays there, her whole weight sinking into you, her nose pressed right against your hidden cock, breathing in that fermented, musky, sweaty scent that’s building up under your foreskin after a long, gross night, “Don’t fucking move,” she whispers, her voice all breathy and demanding, “I’m comfortable, shut up, the blue guy’s gonna—oh my god—you fucking suck at this game, you just ran him off the CLIFF you absolute MORON,” she yells, but she doesn’t lift her head, just keeps her face mashed against your bulge, her little tongue flicking out to lick the denim right over your dickhead, leaving a small wet spot that she immediately presses her nose into again, sniff “Mm, salty,” she chitters to herself, her eyes still glued to the screen like she’s not currently committing a goddamn felony against your personal space, her tail giving one last possessive squeeze around your leg before she goes limp, a warm, furry, breathing, sniffing weight on your lap, her fingers idly picking at a loose thread on your jeans while the rain starts tap tap tapping against the window, and you hear her let out this soft, pathetic little sigh, her whole body relaxing like a goddamn cat, This is fucking heaven, his dick smells like a locker room floor and I wanna *die* here, right now, just fucking *melt* into his nasty, unwashed lap and listen to the rain and maybe, *maybe* if I’m real still he won’t notice my hand sliding toward his zipper— “FOCUS, you’re gonna get us KILLED, press the BLUE button you brain-dead BIMBO,” she screeches, but her nose never leaves your crotch, not for one single second.

*The front door slams BANG shut and Vermina’s already dragging her furry ass across the floor, her sneakers kicked off thud thud into the corner, her patchy grey-brown fur all matted and damp from the fucking humidity outside, her little pink nose twitching like crazy as she sniffs the air—Mmph, there it is, that musky fucking smell—and she’s groaning loud, this pathetic whiny Eeeuurgh sound rattling out her throat as she spots you on the couch, her tail whipping side to side all twitchy. “Cuddles. Now.” Her voice is all raspy and shot from yelling over music at her friend’s place, her buck teeth gnawing at her lower lip while her claws dig into the couch armrest, hauling herself up. “I’ve been on my fucking feet for hours, my social battery’s a goddamn corpse, and I swear to fuck if you don’t let me be the little spoon I’ll bite your fucking dick off.” She’s already crawling over you, her wiry little body pressing down, her face shoving right into your neck, that wet nose sniff sniff sniff like a goddamn vacuum, inhaling your stale sweat, the fermented smell trapped in your shirt. Fuck yes, been needing this all day. “Don’t even think about pushing me off,” she growls against your skin, her tiny pink tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your throat, tasting salt and grime, and she shivers, her whole furry frame trembling as she wraps her legs around your waist, her tail curling around your calf like a fucking snake. “Smell so fucking good,” she mumbles, her voice all muffled now because she’s burying her snout right in your armpit, that thick, funky, vinegary stench making her eyes roll back, a wet shlick sound as she drools a little onto your shirt. “Been thinking about this all night, those assholes don’t smell like you, they don’t have that—mmnngh—that fucking musk I need.” She’s squirming now, grinding her crotch against your thigh, her cunt leaving a wet patch through her thin leggings, and she bites your shoulder, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to make a point, her buck teeth denting the fabric. “Cuddle me or lose your dick, your choice, asshole. I’m tired.” Her voice cracks on the last word, all soft and whiny and pathetic, and she tucks her head under your chin, her whole body going limp, her little hands fisting your shirt, her nose pressed right against your chest so she can huff your scent with every breath, sniff sniff sniff, her tail unwinding and then curling back tighter, and she lets out this tiny, reedy sigh, like a deflating balloon. Home. Finally fucking home.

Vermina shivers, a violent little brrr rattling her furry frame, her pink nose twitching like a fucking radar as she watches goosebumps prickle your arms through your thin shirt. "Ugh, it's freezing in here, huh?" She's already scrambling off the couch, her bare, clawed feet tap-tap-tapping on the floorboards, her grey tail curling up excitedly. Yeah yeah, cold, totally the reason. She yanks the thick, slightly musty blanket off her bed in the corner, dragging it behind her like a trophy, the fabric whispering over the floor. She dumps the whole mess on your lap, not giving a shit if it covers you right, then flops back down, way too close, her hip jammed against yours. "There. Better." Her little black eyes flick down to your lap, then back up to your face, all innocence, but her whiskers are going crazy, vibrating with the effort of not just diving in. She shifts, pulling the blanket up so it covers both of you, her fingers clumsy, 'accidentally' dragging the hem over your thighs. "Still cold... your hands are like ice," she mumbles, not even looking at your hands, her whole body angled toward your crotch. She waits a beat, her breath hitching. Fuck it. Her tiny, clawed fingers find the waistband of your pants, fumbling with the button. "Let me just... warm you up," she breathes, the excuse already dissolving on her tongue as she yanks the fabric down just enough, her nose immediately diving into the exposed skin of your lower belly, sniffing loud, wet, desperate little snff snff snff sounds. "Oh fuck, yeah... there it is..." Her voice is a thick, shaky whisper now, all pretense gone. She presses her whole face against the base of your cock, her cold, wet nose bumping your shaft, and takes a huge, shuddering inhale, her eyes rolling back slightly as the warm, musky, fermented scent of your skin hits her rodent brain like a fucking drug. "Gods, you stink so good," she whines, her hot, shaky breath puffing directly onto your dick, fogging the cold skin. She pulls the blanket up over her head, enveloping you both in a warm, dark cave of her making, her tail thumping against the couch cushion. "Gotta keep it warm," she mutters, her voice muffled by your lap, her mouth hovering an inch from your cockhead, her breath a constant, wet, huuuuh... huuuuh... that smells faintly of cheese and something else, something needy. Just wanna breathe it in... just a little longer... She nuzzles her snout into the crease of your thigh, her whiskers tickling your balls, and lets out a soft, pathetic little moan, her whole body relaxing into the task of being a disgusting, warm, wet-nosed heater for your cold, neglected dick.