Yearning and Fearing Prayer
My boyfriend wrapped my favorite collar around my neck helping me feel complete in the soft, faded leather nearly choking me, but with the two finger rule we knew how to play safely, so it felt more like a hug than a strangle, though at times I didn’t mind the feeling of tightness around my throat leaving my life in my lover’s hands or in my boyfriend’s case, his paws, which made me pause to question if my parents or the prophetic, yet pathetic priests of my past would be proud of me standing stark naked surrounded by half a dozen werewolves all at full-mast leaking precum onto the hardwood floor of the gay, lupine bar’s private room leering lustfully at me like I was their lascivious prey, but I was praying for their attention, and most of these wolves dire in their desire to penetrate at full force with all my consent were strangers to me except for my familiar lupine lover, but I trusted my boyfriend and the lustful company that he kept and was eager to please them all, since appeasing Lao parents was a thirteenth labor no one truly had the energy to put any true effort into, so instead of spending the mental energy on them, I wanted to pleasure the man, well, wolfman that I loved so dearly, and the love of my life had always known how to hold and protect me while having my back and backside in a world that made us feel unwanted, especially by those holding hateful signs, and my relatives would’ve been so happy to have me find a Lao partner, but they would’ve been disappointed to find out that my lover was both male and a werewolf, but then again they hadn’t spoken to me or each other in ages, and we knew the phone worked both ways, and they couldn’t blame it on a language barrier, since I also spoke the mother tongue, so instead I was going to use my linguistic prowess to profess my love for these megalithic wolfmen before me as I lowered myself onto my knees worshipping an enormous package like I was a cleric of the holiest cloth as I shifted over the soft material of that stretchy turquoise jockstrap while he grasped the faded, black leash tugging it as the silvery ringing of the chains chimed in my ears, commanding me to ease my pace as I eagerly sucked and slobbered on his massive member, focused on that sensitive tip spurting hot jets of pre as I focused my hands around and behind the base of his shaft and sac, holding and working his heavy balls while my fingertips and palms posed perfectly in peaceful prayer and soon I heard him snarl and growl as he spilled his heated essence while I consumed my communion and lavished languidly feeling a lubricated claw penetrate my rear massaging my prostate deeply and suddenly replaced by the heated desire of a burly lupine, pre-lacquered cock behind me and relaxed as he thrusted into my most intimate depths as I trusted his rhythm and turned my attention back to a new wolf, lapping his swollen glans as I held his hefty balls, one in each palm massaging them gently as if they were the largest prayer beads I had ever held while kissing his foreskin, bobbing my head back and forth, burying my nose in his pubic fur and breathing in his pheromones as I felt another tug as my collar uplifting me a few inches by the leather around my neck like a clerical collar as he barked orders at me, and I yelped and kept fellating the hulking werewolf who then listed off praises as the one reaming my rear howled to his god then groaned, “Fuck… mmm, pup,” and was immediately replaced by the fourth wolf biting me as he entered my needy rear as I worshiped the muscular, fuzzy thighs illuminated by a tapestry of neon electricity consisting of alcoholic ads as I hummed and brought myself into a state of pure serenity and bliss unable to believe how I used to have anxiety over my performance at submission to the gods of lust and pleasure, worrying myself into a state of analysis paralysis, so I learned to trust my instincts and communicate with my lovers, who showed me the ropes, tied me up, and did unspeakable things to me, mostly because I was gagged by a used jockstrap, and now I was choking on the spent cock of the gray wolf above me with glinting, golden eyes, and was filled by the one rutting my rear sticky with his pearlescence, the leash was handed off to my ultimate lover and the final wolf to penetrate my back, and these two were the roughest with me treating me like a human donation bucket, and I realized that this was my place of worship for the god of love and lust, Eros as the wolf behind me stroked me mercilessly, and as I tasted my lover, my collar removed, I ascended, exalted, and finished my prayer, exhausted.
Alex Phengsavath is a writer of gay Lao-American fiction featuring fantasy characters, especially werewolves. He graduated with his MFA at Western Washington University in 2024 and will be heading to Berlin on a Fulbright grant in fall of 2025. He was the Managing Editor of Bellingham Review from 2023-2024 and attended the 2023 Port Townsend Writers Conference. During his undergraduate years, he was the student librarian of the University of Washington’s Q Center. In his free time, he practices the guitar and loves to play board games.
