CONTENT WARNING: The effects of circumcision! Testicular abuse! -------------------------------------------- Alan sat at his computer, idly clicking through his bookmarks. Porn sites flickered across the wolf's screen as he tried each one to see what he was into today. His cock lay limp between his thighs, evidence he hadn't found what he was in the mood for yet, a dull, dark red shaft crisscrossed with tiny veins. As he flipped through his selection of favorite sites, he paused on one, an Xtube channel called sheaths_are_love. His cock swelled imperceptibly as the usual rush ran through him, and he stopped flipping pages to see what was new. Scrolling through the recent submissions, he started to pant quietly as he saw what there was to watch tonight. A closeup of a cougar's little fuzzy package, with a caption suggesting it was one of those "limp to hard" videos; he'd never been that into cats. A sheathed dragon with a hardon; dragons were musclehunk assholes to the last one. A skunk; that was new. He opened the video in a new tab. Alan's fingers stroked his soft dick gently, pawpads just barely applying pressure as he trailed them over his bare flesh. The skunks video loaded and popped onto his screen. It was a closeup of the mustelids crotch, showing off a black-furred little sack hanging under a surprisingly fuzzy sheath. The skunks hand appeared and wrapped around his cocksleeve, visibly squeezing it and drawing a moan from offscreen. Alan moaned softly himself as he watched the slim, nimble fingers dimpling the furry flesh, his own pawpads applying a tiny bit more pressure. He grimaced a little as he felt a couple sharp stabs of friction, but kept working at it. The skunks shaft was stiffening, plumping that nice black sheath. As the wolf stroked his cock, he felt his fingertips popping over his knot. Even totally limp he had a tiny bulge where his knot formed, and his cock was starting to stiffen a little so he had to concentrate to avoid putting pressure on the bulge. By now the skunks tip was poking out, a bright pink, tapered little shaft. Alan saw the light reflect off the pink organ a little, and he moaned out loud realizing how moist that mustelids dick was. His own shaft was dry to the touch, rasping softly underneath his pawpads. He'd never felt what it was like to have moist, supple skin like that skunk. He closed his eyes for a moment and imagined feeling the warm caress of a tight sheath around his dick, and the thought drew another moan from his lips. He opened his eyes again to see the skunk fully hard, an inch of pink shaft protruding from his sheath while five more inches hid inside the now-firm tube of flesh. Alan yearned to touch it, to feel it, to squeeze the warm, sensitive flesh through its protective sleeve, and then slowly draw it back... As if on cue, the skunks fingers circled around his cocktip and began to slide down his shaft. The voyeuristic wolf panted openly by now, wanting to stroke faster and harder but still pumping at the same maddeningly slow and gentle pace. Any harder and he'd rub himself raw. So he kept at it, slow and steady, pawpads barely grazing the surface of his stiff shaft as he watched the skunk gently, slowly draw his hand downward, sliding the black-furred sheath back, exposing more and more of his slim pink shaft. As his circled fingers reached the middle of his shaft, the skunk suddenly moaned, and Alan watched enraptured as he thrust up into the air, cock stiffening visibly as he touched what must have been an incredibly sensitive spot. Alans panting grew louder as he watched the sheath sliding further, further down the disembodied cock, bunching up at the base, exposing the whole shaft. His own shaft had been exposed since birth, when his sheath was removed. Over the next twenty three years his penis had dried out more and more, especially once he started masturbating. He groaned as he remembered, like he always did, the first few times he jerked off, when his cock was an instrument of pure pleasure and touching it in any way brought immense pleasure to him. Then he started doing it every day, like any adolescent, jerking his hard cock every time he could get a few minutes alone. Eventually he discovered that wrapping a blanket around his dick made it easier to stroke, drying it out and keeping it from binding when his pawpads slid over the then-moist and sensitive surface. He beat off every day with a nice, soft blanket he'd had since he was four. His mother never could figure out why he was so attached to it. The skunk had paused for a long time with his sheath pulled back, showing off his six inches of uncut flesh. Now he started to draw his sheath back up, body visibly tensing with the pleasure he was undoubtedly feeling as the slick, warm flesh covered his dick once again. Alan shuddered, thinking about how every day he had wrapped the fabric around his shaft and furiously stroked it until he blew a huge load into his favorite blanket. Since his mother didn't know what he was using it for, he only washed it once in a long while, when nobody was home and he could throw it in the wash without needing to explain how it got dirty. Sometimes weeks would pass before he could clean it, and the dried cum would make the blanket scratchier and scratchier. In those times he tried to use different spots, clean spots with no dried cum, but eventually it got hard to find a clean spot, and anyway, after a couple years of this he just found himself caring less and less. He hadn't know that all that dried cum was acting like sandpaper on his cock, slowly abrading away his sensitivity. It got easier to go without washing the blanket because eventually he couldn't feel all those stiff cumspots digging into his dick, especially since the blanket dried out his shaft and made it harder to feel anything. The skunk was slowly stroking his cock now, audibly huffing as he jerked off, slipping his tight sheath skin up and down his long, glistening rod. Alan's jaw hung open absently as his other paw came down and slowly wrapped around his balls, squeezing the sack gently, but firmly. He hadn't realized what he was doing to himself when he was young. It just felt good, and was a lot more convenient than using his bare hand. He didn't even know he was circumcised at the time, let alone what lube was. His fingertips slid lower on his shaft, dry pads sliding over the knot, tracing the surface, squeezing ever so gently in the right spots before moving lower, towards the base. He gasped, his gasp turning to a moan as his fingers touched the dark brown scar around the base of his dick, where his sheath was cut off. He pinched the flesh between his finger and thumb, carefully rolling it back and forth until he had a good grip, and then squeezed hard. Alan yelped in mixed pain and pleasure as the ultra-sensitive band throbbed between his fingers, the nerve endings that once would have connected to his sheath sending shocks up his spine even as the tissue that had once been internal and unexposed flared in pain. His cocktip drooled a single bead of precum from the unparalleled sensation; the most he could usually produce. He let go and traced his fingertips around his circumcision scar, moaning unevenly as he teased out the bits of pleasure he could. After a few seconds though the pleasure dissipated and was replaced with irritation. The wolf's other hand squeezed his balls harder, and a little spark of pleasure shot through his groin, bringing with it a flare of nausea. He loosened the grip on his balls and continued gently stroking up and down the surface of his cock. The skunk's dick was drooling precum as he vigorously jerked off. Alan wanted to jump through the monitor and slurp up every drop of it... or apply it to his own cock, though he knew it wouldn't help. Lube didn't work for him. He'd abraded away too much sensation, and by the time he was sixteen and started learning through the internet grapevine about masturbation and sex it was too late. His experiments with lube yielded nothing but a messy paw and an unstimulated penis. He tried over and over, but nothing worked. He couldn't get off without using that blanket, but at that point he knew the damage it was doing. Alan went months without an orgasm. He tried doing it like he had before the blanket, but his old techniques didn't work anymore. His penis just didn't have the same sensitivity, the skin was thick, dry and calloused now. Every day he tried a different technique, sometimes eking out a tiny bit of pleasure here or there, but nothing stuck. Every sensitive spot he found had been so badly abused that it only felt good to touch for a few moments, then the feelings turned to irritation and pain. He learned that he could squeeze his knot and eventually get very close to an orgasm, but as good as that felt, it would end up feeling bruised the next time and make getting off even harder. Still it was difficult to resist just crushing the bulb in his cock until he came. Some days he gave in, and the feeling of relief was unspeakable, but he regretted it the next day... and the next, and the next, until the abused tissues healed. The blanket was harder to resist, knowing he could drag an orgasm out of his useless penis for sure that way, but after all his experimentation he knew it wouldn't be satisfying. He knew what sensations should have been coming from his cock all these years, and although the blanket got him off, it didn't deliver a real orgasm in the end. He found websites about restoring his sensitivity, and tried all the tricks - including wearing a condom full of moisturizer all day - but hardly anyone had been nearly as rough with their dick as he had, and none of it seemed to work. The skunk was humping the air now, thrusting his slick shaft through his squeezing paw and gripping sheath, making... some weird chittering noise that skunks must make. He was probably close to orgasm. Alan sighed heavily, knowing what was next. He kept stroking his bare, circumcised wolfcock, gripping a little tighter now, finally feeling a little sensation. It came with plenty of discomfort, but that wouldn't matter momentarily. Taking a deep breath, he squeezed his nuts hard. Blinding pain and nausea rippled through his abdomen, almost making him heave, but he was long used to this. The only way he could get off without abusing his cock worse was to abuse his balls, since the pain came with immense pleasure. He squeezed again, hard, yelping as he gripped his shaft, squeezing it and squeezing his furry sack at the same time, pain giving way to pleasure as he started to feel the orgasm growing. The skunk was jerking his cock shakily now, only tugging his sheath up and down an inch or two, clearly approaching climax. Alan let out a sorrowful howl as he started tugging on his testes, crushing his nuts in his grip over and over, each squeeze making his dick more and more sensitive, like he fantasized about, like it used to be. The skunk started moaning that he was about to cum, and Alan let go of his sack, drew his hand back and slapped it as hard as he could. The wolf shrieked as he felt the blinding burst of pain and stroked his ruined cock furiously with his other hand, scrubbing his pawpads over his calloused cockflesh as hard as he could as he punched himself in his poor, abused ballsack, until suddenly climax washed over him, and pleasure made his vision go dim, and he could barely see the skunk shooting white strings of mustelid semen over his black fur as he desperately tugged on his circumcised dick and slammed his fist into his bruised nuts, every gut-wrenching impact into his balls and every painful drag over his raw flesh drawing another squirt of seed from his reddened cocktip, six, seven, eight times, and then finally he wrapped his hand around his ballsack and squeezed as hard as he could, gritting his teeth and letting out a long, drawn out howl of release as he squeezed his balls empty. The video had long since turned to a grid of suggested next videos when he released his grip, wincing as his tender nuts sagged onto his chair. He knew they'd be fine by tomorrow. He looked down at his desk and saw that he'd completely ruined his keyboard, having coated the entire thing in wolfcum. His mouse was still fine, at least; he fav'd the video before closing the browser and trudging off to bed, limp cock still dangling, dark red and exposed, like it always had been and always would be.