Yeti Handjob

It's not quite eight at night when you get home. Everyone knows the story. Crappy weather on the way to work. Crappy traffic. Crappy start at work. Crappier rest of work. Crappiest weather on the way back.

You stumble through the front door, bringing in half the rainstorm with you, bedraggled and soaked through to the bone.
But, thank god, you're home. Home, with its gentle light to replace the cold, lonely glare of the streetlamps. Deep, soothing warmth chases away the cold, with a low intensity to it that tips you off to a steady fire in the hearth. And of course, the holy scent of cooking. Lasagna, it smells like, rich and filling with cream and cheese, herbs and garlic mixed in the tomato. It'd be enough to reduce you to drooling, if you weren't already wet enough.
"Ah, you're home!"
Molly steps out of the kitchen smiling, licking a fleck of tomato sauce from the fur of a forefinger. Even just the sight of her perks you up some, that happy expression utterly at home on her round cheerful face. Her pure white hair bounces with every step, long and curly, looking more like the spume of an ocean wave than a drift of snow. And despite the heat inside, she seems utterly at ease, dressed in an encompassing black sweater, a long navy dress, and her apron, off-white save for a few splatters and stains. Her grin drops the moment she sees you, though, dripping on the doormat like a tsunami hit you head-on.
"Oh wow, you look awful."
"Thanks," you say, smiling. You shrug off your coat as she approaches, reaching to take your bag.
"Here, pass me your coat too. You're back so late, dear."
The coat comes off, feeling like Atlus had the sky lifted from his shoulders, and you slump against the wall, kicking off your shoes. "Yeah. Work was... not great." Your hair's soaked too. Man, the last thing you need right now is a head cold.
"Aww, come here," Molly lets out a sympathetic hum, trapping you against the wall with her soft, fluffy paws at your waist, pillows with a gentle vicegrip. She's just as tall as you, the perfect height for her to simply lean forward, dark blue eyes sparkling and holding your gaze fast, and press her lips against yours.
God, they're so soft. She's so soft, and tender, and for over half a minute, you just let her kiss you, mouth slightly parted, eyes closed so only the sounds and sensations reach you. Her mouth plays and slowly dances with yours, but no tongue. Not the second you've come in through the front door, at least.
Instead, you just relax and let her carry you along like a current, feeling the occasional ticklish vibration when she murmurs happily into your mouth.
The kiss ends just like it began, with all the gentle lightness of a cloud, and you part from each other.
"You've had a long day today, haven't you?"
"Mm," you just say, eyes still closed. You feel her paw on your head, her fur like a heated blanket, stroking your hair, brushing away the water.
"You work yourself so hard, dear. And out in the rain like that, too! Honestly, if you go catching a cold..."
Molly fusses over you, almost more like a mother than a wife. "Here, get those wet clothes off, you'll freeze otherwise. And go sit down on the couch. I've got something for you."
"Yes, ma'am."
She sticks her tongue out at you before turning the corner, face scrunched up in playful mockery. Left with that, you head into the sitting room. Sure enough, a low flame is glowing in the fireplace, perfect for keeping the room warm without getting too cloistered or sweaty.

You strip down to your underwear, chucking pants and shirt onto the chair in the corner, before throwing yourself down on the sofa and getting truly comfortable for the first time in hours.
It's too much to resist settling in, and you squirm down on top of the cushions, already prepared to fall asleep just like that. The crackling fireplace makes the perfect ambience to drift off to, and already your eyelids begin to droop, heavy and leaden.
"Hey, don't nod off just yet. You've still got to have dinner."
You look up, but something big and beige obscures your vision, wafting down and embracing you in what might as well be the wings of an angel. So soft and warm...
Something else drapes itself on your head, another weresheep wool piece, though just a hand towel this time, and too warm to have just been hanging up anywhere.
You groan into the soft wool, feeling the knots in your body worked out simply by the action of the towels' magical heat seeping into and untangling your battered body. Against your bare skin, it feels tantamount to a massage delivered by constant, ghost-light touches.
"I saw it was raining out earlier," Molly explains, "So I thought I might just leave these on the radiator for when you get home."
"You're an angel," you just say, voice muffled somewhat.
"You're sweet." The yeti pulls the towel from your face with a massive paw, setting it neatly so everything from your forehead and up is covered. The less of the towels you breathe in, the less likely you are to just fall asleep like a log. "Come on, I'll bring in dinner. Why don't you tell me about your day?"
"You don't wanna hear about me day," you tell her.
"Oh, that bad? Well in that case, I insist. Venting will help get it off your mind."
"I'd rather hear about your day, Snowpuff."
You don't even need to crane your head back to see her. In that silence, you can practically hear her blushing at your little pet name, doing her best not to get all flustered and off-balance. Every time, it has the same effect, and it's utterly adorable. "Oh, my day! It was quiet, to be honest, just slow and lonely. But you're here now, so I'll bring in dinner!"
She rushes out, still all skittish and embarrassed, and probably in no frame of mind to let you catch the scarlet flush on her slightly tan skin.

Not long later, and you're both sitting at the foot of the couch, huddled up shoulder to shoulder under the towel, eating lasagna from the same dish. It's delicious beyond compare, richer and more satisfying that the smell of it could ever imply, and you wolf it down between words. Occasionally, you make a little sound of gratitude, lost in culinary bliss. You can't help it. Homemade lasagna just tastes so good. And it's Molly's, too. A fact you make sure to not forget as you praise her every couple of minutes.
She just beams at you, maybe as happy to see you enjoy the meal as you are actually eating it.
Eventually, though, the dish empties out, your last spoonful making its way towards Molly's mouth. She opens up, letting you slip the last bite past her lips so she can chew up and swallow down, with just a little hint of laughter.
"Oh, uh, Molly?" You point to her chin, with a bit of leftover ragu and cheese stuck to her chin. She glances down, wiping below her mouth with a single fluffy finger.
"Got it?"
"Almost," you say. Then you reach out and take her paw between your hands. It doesn't feel at all like a human hand. It's too soft, like her paws are made out of marshmallow or thick dough. The joints are all there, but you can squeeze down an amazing amount if you try, reaching bone further than you'd really expect.
You turn it so her palm, and the puffy beige pawpad at its centre, is facing you. There, you can see where the otherwise flawless white fur is marred on her foredigit, a little streak of red sauce on it.
You don't hesitate to bring it to your own mouth, pulling in and sucking on her finger, wetting her fluff with your saliva, feeling it tickle against your tongue until it's smoothed and stuck down entirely.
"Oh my!" Molly puts her free paw to her cheek, watching in fascination as you suck on her paw, digit by digit, until all four have been thoroughly enjoyed.
"Okay, got it," you tell Molly, savouring the final taste of that little morsel you sucked from her.
She smiles. "I can't believe I almost forgot just how much you loved my hands. In that case..." Her smile gains an edge to it, a mischievous little glint that could almost border on lewd. "Sit back on the couch. I've got a gift for you."
"Okay, sure." You comply, leaning back into the leather. Molly, though, doesn't join you. Instead she stays on her knees, shuffling between your legs quite happily.
"Perfect. Now, dear, drop your pants."
Of course. What else were you expecting?

"Molly, you really don't need to..."
She cocks her head at you quite happily. "Yes, I know. But I want to."
"I just don't want you to feel obligated or anything." Molly's just kind by nature, almost to the point where it feels you could exploiting her sometimes. Even if ever you actually did, it's doubtful she'd even make much of a fuss about it.
But in response, she just crawls up on you, sliding up until her paws rest on your shoulders, her face level with yours. "Mm, I love that about you. Always thinking of me, even at your own cost."
Then her left paw slides down, covering the entirety of your right pectoral, and down over your stomach, and even further still. When she stops, you can feel the weight and presence of it through your underwear, like a promise of things to come. Without the support of both hands, Molly has to lean against you somewhat, and she makes no effort to restrain herself. You can feel her breasts just barely through her soft, thick sweater. Their shape indistinct, but their size and palmable pliability forcing their way to the very center of your thoughts.
Already you can feel your tension build down below. Your anticipation, increasing your sensitivity and bloodflow as you begin to grow stiff, rising and tenting against elastic fabric.
There's no doubt Molly can feel it against her palm. No doubt at all, as she returns to kneeling between your legs. Just for a second, your mind wanders onto just how invitingly ticklish the fur of her legs is against your feet. Not for the first time of course. Every time she wraps and twines around you in bed, it's something you get to feel. But sitting down, with no covers over you, it's a familiar novelty.
One quickly pushed from your mind when Molly's big fluffy foredigits make their way under your waistband.

She has no nails or claws to speak of, so it's a case of her worming past the tightly hugging strap, and the process involves a lot of rubbing against your waist. It's an impromptu and unorthodox foreplay, but at this point your erection is all but certain. Just the feeling of it is enough to make it rise further, a self-fulfilling feedback loop.
"Almost got it... Ah, there we go."
Her fingers under, you raise your butt up slightly, letting her slide your pants down. There's no delay over it. Over your crotch, against your thighs, rubbing and catching against your erection. The resistance builds, pulling it back until it almost borders on small pain, when suddenly-
Sproing!
"And here we are!" Your shaft bounces back, stiff enough to tower tall and proud as Molly watches it.
Your dick tingles from exposure to the open air, but if anything it's even hotter, rather than colder. "Are you ready, dear?" Molly asks, smiling at you with an expression of compassion that could melt stone. Just her beautiful face alone makes you harder, and you nod back to her, all too eager now to give yourself to her.
"Good. Now then..." Molly licks her palms with her little pink tongue, once, twice. Then, with deliberate slowness, she brings her paws together just above your very tip, lightly pressing them together until it looks she's praying.
In another even slower movement, she lowers her arms, just so much that you can feel single strands of her fur lightly tickling against your glans.
It's an absolutely electric sensation, a warm blanket of tingles that wraps around your spine and spreads like fluid to your fingertips, telling every muscle in your body to tighten, to prepare.
"It's been a while since we've done this, don't you think?" Molly asks.
"H-has it?" Come on, just a little lower...

You know what she's doing. Not quite taunting, not quite teasing, but drawing you out just long enough to make you really crave it.
"Well, a few weeks at least. I almost forgot just hot this could get. It's just radiating heat, y'know." She looks up at you, totally casually and innocently. "Are you really that pent up?"
"It's not that-" Your voice catches in your throat the very second Molly squeezes her paws around your shaft, from base to tip. Her fur is like a hot satin sheet, sliding and giving way to the marshmallow pressure of her pawpads, surrounding you like an organic onahole. God, it's like heaven.
Molly resists the yearning buck of your hips, adjusting her gentle grip in a maddeningly pleasant way to make sure your entire length is as snug as can be between her upright palms. "Ah, I forgot how this feels, too. Can you believe that? It's so hard and firm, my hands are just molding around it."
Anyone watching might think Molly completely unaware of what she's doing. But the yeti knows exactly the effects her words have on you. She just can't help but sound earnest and endearing, no matter how lewdly she tries to act.
"I can feel your blood pumping too, actually. Every little pulse, every curve and ridge..." She smiles down at her paws, and your member sandwiched between, with a care that makes her look as if she's cradling it. "How does it feel for you, dear? Not uncomfortable, is it? It's been a while since I've done this, after all."
"No, Molly. It feels amazing."
She lets out a little giggle. "That's good. I'd hate to have lost my touch."
Then she begins to slide her paws up and down. Her touch is gentle, but tight, and her heavenly paws slide over every bump like they were made for it. You can feel your pre, mixing with her saliva, practically fountaining from the your tip as Molly milks you with gentle strokes. You can't help but gasp and buck your hips more, her hold on you like a puppeteer holding your strings. Every time she slides you, you need to follow, to thrust yourself tighter and firmer between her wonderful hands. Every motion is like liquid, strokes melting into each other as you feel the heat inside build. It's irresistible, and Molly doesn't stop lovingly jerking you off, almost lazily and languidly. You feel yourself building to a climax, but your wife is in no hurry. She just wants you to feel good, despite the constant pressure... the hotness and soft tightness, flowing over your shaft like fluffy honey, making the semen within you boil and build...
With one final gasp, you tense up, feeling that little core of sensation just behind your balls ignite. Your thighs tingle with unleashed electric pleasure, and you cum, right into Molly's waiting paws.
With restraint dashed and thrown to the wind, you make your best attempt to fuck her paws, your mind reduced to its most primal state. Every spurt is a new wave of heat and bliss, pooling and sticking to Molly's pawpads, joining and flooding over the precum painted in preparation. Over and over you thrust with every blast, Molly stroking and jerking in perfect harmony with your movements, multiplying the intensity of it all.

When you finally come back down, you slump back into the couch, gasping and feeling as if you've come out of a long, deep massage. All the tension and weight of your body is gone, sucked away during climax, and your strength with it.
The firmness possessing you, straining inside with a mind of its own is gone, and only the gentle white fuzz of afterglow remains.
"Wow. That was intense." Molly's paws are still wrapped around your rod, wetly squeezing it, winding you down slowly and carefully. "So, what do you think?" Her eyes are sparkling, she already knows the answer to her question. "Have I lost my touch?"
You smile what must be a dopey smile, resting your head back and breathing slowly, deeply. "You were amazing. You are amazing, I mean. You're going to have to let me treat you back, though."
"Mm, I'd love that. But two things first."
"Huh?"
"Number one: Dessert."
Without dropping your gaze, she moves the digits of her paws deftly around your softening member, with surprising dexterity. And then, in one fluid motion, she brings her right hand to her mouth.
Molly takes a moment to examine it, giving you more than a good look at the borderline absurd amount of semen coating it. White liquid on white fur, granting it a slick, matted sheen. Pearl beads and translucent globules painting the soft brown pads of her palms.
She takes it all in, eyeing it hungrily. Then she begins to lick. For the first time, her attention seems only partially focused on you. Her left hand is still around your resting manhood, holding it up and patiently waiting for it to harden yet again.
Her eyes are closed as she savours the taste, lapping up your seed and letting it stick to her tongue, her lips with every motion. She hums small sounds of bliss with every gulp and swallow, subdued and unintentional, and all the more cuter for it. She's described the taste of it before to you. For her it's a rich taste. Still salty, but comparable to chocolate, something that overpowers and dances on her tastebuds, filling her up without limit. Creamy and warm, flavoured with your emotion. She's never been able to nail down exactly what that tastes like, though. As expected of the more magical elements that make their way into your life.
But definable or not, she's enjoying every drop of it. The enjoyment is practically etched on her face, and the enthusiasm with which she consumes it is nothing short of erotic. By the time her eyes her open again, searching out anywhere between her furry fingers that aren't swept over with her saliva, you can already feel yourself stirring down there, preparing for round two.

At last, Molly's flicking tongue slows to a stop, and something seems to register in her mind as she glances at you, like she's been caught in the act of some taboo.
"You, um, looked like you were enjoying yourself."
Still between your legs, the yeti slouches down and rests her cheek on your thigh. "It's been a while since I tasted you like that, too. Even when I remember it, it's still exhilarating." She sighs contentedly, eyes straying down to your covered crotch. "But what was I saying? Oh, right! Thing number two! The follow-up."
"Follow up? What-" Your breath catches in your throat as Molly gives you a soft, slippery squeeze with her left hand, mirroring the motion with her right on top. You twitch at her touch, feeling her paws, compounded with saliva and leftover cum slip over your glans, as smooth as silk.
You can't help but groan again, feeling her fingers dance and twine around your tip, trailing her fur in little spirals over each raw nerve. Her palms are like liquid pillows, soft and all-surrounding, and when she starts to slide up and down, they caress you with even more gentle intensity than before.
"Oh god, Molly, don't stop." You reach down and place your hands on her head, sinking your fingers into the curls of her hair, before idly massaging her scalp at a slow, constant pace.
She purrs in delight, pushing up against you like a cat trying to butt up against a petting hand. "Mmm... I won't. Especially not while you're doing that."
After your first orgasm, you're even more sensitive to her milking movements. You can't stop your heart from racing, or your body from responding with so much excitement. You're putty in her paws, and she knows it. "I'd feel bad I wasn't making you feel good too."
"I know, dear," Molly whispers. Her bright, sparkling eyes never leave yours as she parts her fingers enough to expose the very tip of your penis. Between slow strokes, she plants a single kiss upon it, a sudden shock of pleasure coursing from her lips, down to the very base of your groin.
She smiles as you tense, licking the salty droplets before sealing her fingers back around you.
Soon, you slip back into a mutual trance together. Your hands playing in her hair, and hers slowly but surely pumping you towards a second climax.

You focus on the warmth, the ambient heat from the fireplace, and the soaking, focused hotness trapped between her paws. The way your body sinks into the couch, and her presence between your legs. The thick curls of her hair, compared to the neat, easily parted strands of fur stroking your dick. The crackling of the fire, and the quiet, wet noises made in time with her palms, slipping up and down, up and down.
That feeling fills you, the sensation of your dick being rubbed and squeezed between two pawpads, flowing like liquid. Even after your first load, it's not long before your erection reaches a limit, twitching as all the heat and stroking makes something stir and bubble within your balls. Molly can feel it too, and begins to speed up, just by a little amount, jerking you off with caring concentration.
Up and down, accompanied by subdued squelching sounds as even the underside of your head is massaged by her cushiony digits. Over and over, seconds and even minutes pass as your breathing turns shallow. Your body is warning your brain, it's not in control any more, and a climax more intense even than before is on its way, building behind an invisible dam until it's finally freed.
Molly's paws milk you ever more firmly, and your scalp massage becomes just a little harder, as muscles tense and tension rises. It's bubbling up, picking up blissful momentum, and still Molly's paws carry on milking every slick, lubricated millimetre.
Your will to hold it back breaks, and you double over. "Molly, I'm close."
"Sshhh..." Her voice is low and sibilant, just another stimulating addition to the experience bring you ever closer. "Don't hold back. Just let it happen, and sink into me."
God, yes. Just melt and sink into her, carried along by her hands.
Not long now. Balancing on the brink, built up so much you could cum any second.

"Shoot it all over me, all over my fur and fingers..." Coat her hands in so much hot seed it'll leak out from between her digits. Five rapturously agonising strokes left.
"I'll drink it all up, every last drop, husband." Force it from the tips of her fingers, spray it onto her beautiful face. Four. Imagine her, naked before you, palming her plump, perfect breasts with semen soaked hands, panting her brown skin a sticky white.
Three.
You're so close now, leaking pre that only makes the whole experience smoother and hotter, humping up against her grip. Two. Molly works in perfect sync with you, jerking down as you thrust up, and enhancing every sensation to a maddening degree.
One...
You call out to Molly right as you feel the second climax, infinitely more powerful than before, burst out of you in an explosion. Molly's paws take the impact as, against all sense, you feel yourself spray yet more semen into her waiting hands. Nothing else in your body matters, save for the searing, heavenly leaps of pleasure caused by every tight, draining, pumping motion.
You don't know how much you've come, but you can hear and feel the sheer quantity of it between her firm fingers, relishing in that lovely unstoppable force pressing out from beneath your shaft.
Within moments, you're shooting blanks while Molly keeps the vacuum seal around you, ensuring that not a single ounce is spilt or wasted. Your breathing heavy, you slump back down, exhausting catching up to you and weighing your eyelids.
You close your eyes, and, just as within the even stronger climax, an even more irresistible afterglow washes over your body. It carries you away, away from the room around you, as you slowly drift asleep.

__________

When you wake up, there's a presence pushing down on your chest. Molly, kneeling on the couch beside you, hugging tightly with her cheek against your chest. From the feel of them covering almost half of your back, her paws are licked clean and dry. Hopefully she enjoyed her meal.
The fire's burning low too, casting low light and long shadows across the entire living room. Wondering how long you were asleep for, you start to stroke your wife's hair, wrapping your closer arm around her waist,
Immediately she glances up at you, evidently still awake.
"Hey, sleepyhead."
"Hey, Snowpuff." Another cute, cheeks-puffed-out pout. What time is it?"
"Probably around eleven. You must've really enjoyed that whole thing, huh?"
In answer, you kiss her head, earning yourself a bright, full smile. "It was incredible. You're too kind to me."
"Nonsense." She shuffles up, your shoulder between her cleavage and her eyes level with yours. "I love nothing more than being happy with you. And you being happy, makes me happy. That's true the other way round, right?"
"Of course," you tell her. "I understand."
"Good. Now, where were we..." And with that, she sidles back down into you, getting close and snug, like she's preparing to spend the night with you on the couch.
"Molly, we should probably get a shower first."
"Mmphkh," she mumbles an affirmative at you, her mouth against your collar. "Ffvf mmmr mhmhts."
Five more minutes. Well, that doesn't seem too unreasonable.
Surrendering to her demands, and surrendering your body to her warm embrace, you sink down until your both lying on the couch. Closing your eyes, you wrap your arms around Molly, smiling as you listen to her giggle happily in your embrace.