FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A small noise from outside the window caused Rachen's ears to perk and his eyes to open, lifting him out of his pleasant sleep. He felt fairly well-rested, too, if not a little physically tired and sore - but that usually came with waking up in the mornings, especially considering what all he had done the previous day. The first taste of his own morning breath, the first swallow of sticky drool, the first wipe of his paw across his nose and mouth...

Yeah. It was all still _very_strongly there. A weight held down the blankets covering him, down near his feet... one that stirred with steady, gentle breaths, warm and heavy and massive. The foxwolf had to wipe at his eyes again, but once he did and sat up, the source of the scent on his paw and upper lips and the taste still in the back of his throat came into focus at the end of the bed, limp between a pair of furry hind legs, stretched partly out as the feral dog still slept.

That was Marvin, mutt, pet dog of Rachen's - "friend" wasn't the right word. Big older wolf, father of two (three? he never asked) kids, German teacher at a local high school... and damn well-endowed, thick uncut cock that made the foxwolf's mouth water and that he'd raise his tail for any time. Not to say that he hadn't _already_a few times in the past; that was part of what got him into this whole thing.

He stretched his arms over his head, gave voice to a cavernous yawn, leaned to one side, leaned to the other side... and hunched down, not really wanting to put in the effort to get out of bed just yet. This weekend he'd decided to ask that 'friend', Mr. Bronson, if he could watch his dog for him. It wasn't a job or a real dog-sitting or anything like that. To put it simply - Rachen's eyes again drifted down Marvin's belly, facing him, towards the plump sheath and intact sack below, one of his balls hanging off of his leg stretched out under him - he just wanted to play with Marvin.

'Play' in exactly the same way that he did with the dog's owner most of the times they saw each other. When he'd sent Bronson the text earlier in the weekend with the original question, Rachen had actually been surprised to get an answer without something like if you suck my dick or if you let me pound my load into you_or _if you let me empty my bladder into your fur and then wear my mark for the whole day...

...he slid one paw down between his legs, and shivered. Was it still called morning wood if he didn't get hard until after waking up? Marvin was still out of it, flopped on his side with his chest rising and falling, lips slightly-parted and tongue sticking out a little bit. If the foxwolf leaned forward with his fingers stretched out, he could just barely run his claws through the fur along the ankle of one of the mutt's hind legs... which Marvin then pulled up closer to himself, out of Rachen's reach. Still, though, he remained firmly bound by the arms of sleep, enough so that he didn't stir once the foxwolf did get up out of bed.

So he stood there and stretched his arms over his head again, tensing every muscle in his body to ward off the weight of sleep - as well as get a sweet shiver from a throb of his length. Getting to sleep last night had been hell for him, especially with Marvin lying across his feet while he could still smell that very same dog's musk and mark on the fur of his muzzle. Hell, it had been one of the first things he'd done with Marvin after Mr. Bronson came to drop him off, and even after he'd showered he could still both smell and taste it on his breath.

Well, part of that wasn't quite true. The first thing he'd done with Marvin was fill up the dog's water dish, pretty damn high, and then lean back against the kitchen counter and wait for him to drink almost all of it. Of course the foxwolf's mind had wandered watching that broad, flat pink tongue flick out again and again and again against the water, thinking back to the few times in the past where he'd felt that same tongue against the end of his own cock, or up along his sack, or dragging over the puckered surface of his tailhole from behind.

After his first few experiences with Marvin, Rachen had discovered that there was really nothing like the tongue of a feral dog. Mr. Bronson wasn't really the type of person to give oral, not to younger partners like him anyway, so some of the times in the past when the foxwolf had come over, opened the wolf's pants, and shoved his nose up between his sack and the base of his cock to drink his musk (and other things), Marvin would come over and press his nose up between _Rachen's_legs, and... he'd just go with it. It was never hard to unbutton and unzip his pants and hold his length out in the air for the mutt to hungrily lap at, Bronson's shaft between his own lips and pressing against the back of his throat... Marvin always made sure to keep him nice and perfectly clean, licking off the salty sweetness of the foxwolf's load until each lap of his tongue made him jerk and gasp.

In exchange Rachen kept Marvin clean, too. The first time had been earlier this month when he'd been invited over to Bronson's for a get-together of sorts, where the foxwolf ended up naked in the middle of the floor with the mutt standing over him... and then with one leg hiked on him. He was made to bear the dog's mark on his muzzle and swallow it down, and then put his lips to Marvin's sheath and run his tongue along his length, giving him one of his first tastes of feral musk.

Needless to say, he'd been hooked.

That hadn't been it, either: shortly before mounting him and pounding his knot into him, Marvin nosed up beneath Rachen's tail and got him thoroughly slickened with saliva, drier and slicker than the foxwolf had gotten from his non-feral partners. In the interest of pleasing the crowd, though (Mr. Bronson had also invited over a good number of his friends, most of whom lounged back in the couches and chairs set up around the room and pawed themselves off while watching), Rachen had been told to return the favor, and kept Marvin's tail lifted with one paw, and his rump spread with the other as he started to dig his tongue into the mutt's rear.

Yesterday had been kind of like that, without the crowd of people. Thankfully this weekend it was just the foxwolf as well as this lovely feral guest at home, so he could do everything he wanted, whenever he wanted. After watching Marvin fill his belly for a good few minutes, Rachen sat down behind him and just - couldn't resist. Nose, lips, tongue underneath the base of his tail, pressing and squeezing into the warm depths of his rump, digging as deeply as he could until his jaw got sore.

This was a big damn dog, so with Rachen sitting down, his muzzle fit rather nicely beneath Marvin's tail without him having to hunch over too much. It also meant that he could reach forward and weigh the dog's hefty sack in one paw while he worked, his other thumb half-buried in the same hot, moist flesh, slick and dripping with both natural musk as well as his own saliva.

Actually, remembering that... the foxwolf shifted his weight, one paw on his hip while he chewed on a claw of the other. He still had to clean up the stains on the couch from when he'd brought Marvin over there afterwards and swallowed down his load - or most of it, at least. Then he brought him outside for a bathroom break, followed him across the lawn, knelt down once he'd stopped moving... it certainly seemed like Marvin wasn't willing to empty his bladder without someone right there with it, or without someone to catch it for him.

Not that Rachen complained about that. The taste and scent surprised him especially after seeing as much water as he'd downed, but he still did exactly what Bronson had had him do during that get-together, and kept his maw open and tongue out. Intense, salty heat coursing down his throat and filling his belly, whatever he didn't swallow and let flow down over his fur covering him in the dog's rich scent...

As if in a natural reaction to these thoughts and memories, while standing there the foxwolf ran his other paw down his belly towards the base of his cock, and then squeezed and stroked slowly. His knot hadn't yet taken shape underneath the supple skin of his sheath, but he could feel it twitch and pulse every time he brought that paw back down to the base of his length and pushed that skin a little bit further back, warm and moist with arousal from this morning as well as what was left over from yesterday. Marvin's nose twitched, probably upon picking up the slightly-stronger scent of excited foxwolf, but still he didn't stir.

Rachen had gotten what he wanted yesterday, though he did consider rolling this feral onto his back, slickening a finger with saliva and pressing it up under his tail, and then running his lips and tongue along the dog's cock until he tasted that salty pre and cum in the back of his throat yet again. But, still, there was something else nagging at him, a different sort of thirst that had an annoying way of hanging around until it was satisfied.

The dream he'd had last night had something to do with that, too. The foxwolf padded down towards the other end of the bed and knelt down, head rested on one of his arms for a moment before he reached forward and dragged his claws gently along Marvin's back. A few of the times when Bronson had been the one to bend over him and empty his balls deep into him, Rachen spent the rest of the week (or at least a few days) with that lingering soreness under his tail every time he clenched. Marvin had done this to him once, but that had been because of the fat knot that hid underneath the soft skin of his sheath.

But, it was that_particular thirst that throbbed between the foxwolf's legs, and that made him start to roll the dog over to face him. Following everything he'd swallowed down the previous day, thoughts of sex and getting bred hung resiliently in his mind and kept him always half-hard. In the shower later in the afternoon, he'd had to brace one paw against the wall while rubbing another one out with the other, all because tugging his shirt off over his head had brought the scent of the dog's piss back in full force; then Marvin was waiting outside the bathroom when he finished, so he figured _why the hell not and got underneath him to lend him a muzzle; and then there was his damn dream...

With a quiet huff, the feral lifted his head, looked back at the foxwolf kneeling over the bed, wagged his tail, and tried to roll over a few times before succeeding - and once more bringing into view his equipment. Rachen had dreamt about nuzzling up against that, about feeling the weight and warmth of Marvin's sack and sheath on his nose before digging his tongue into the slit of that sheath, just as thoroughly and deeply as he'd done to the dog's rump the day before; then, that done, he turned around, raised his tail, and had to dig his claws into the floor to stay in place with the beast pounding into him from behind, fast and hard from the start. It had seemed so real that Rachen thought he was actually lurching forward and back with the thrusts when he woke up, but it turned out just be his own humping and grinding against the bed in the throes of his orgasm.

That had been around three in the morning, and he'd briefly run of to the bathroom to clean up before coming back to bed... and he would have lived out that dream, were he not falling asleep on his way back down the hall. This morning, though... Marvin yawned widely and made to get up, but then stopped at the feeling of Rachen's nose against the tip of his sheath.

The foxwolf took a few sniffs of the scent that lingered there, flat and musky, a mixture of the undeniable wet dog smell and the same piss that he'd swallowed down the previous day. It was a rich, musky scent, one that made him want to breathe deeper of it and run his paw a few more times along his length, but - it would be a waste if he were to get off against the side of the bed _without_this dog weighing him down from behind.

His tongue took the place of his nose next, tracing across the soft, moist rim of Marvin's sheath, gently pressing in against the tapered tip underneath. That scent clung even stronger to the flesh there, warm and wet already with the liquid musk that was always in his sheath - and that he could taste the deeper he pressed. One paw down between his own legs and the other up at the dog's sack with finger and thumb tugging at the base of his sheath, it wasn't hard at all to get him to slide out of the slick, supple skin, girth slowly growing and hips starting to jerk forward and back.

Then - spurt, spurt, spurt of salty liquid pre across Marvin's own belly as well as the foxwolf's bed, paw, and tongue. Part of him (again, the part throbbing between his legs) would have been happy to remain here with his mouth either held open at a bit of a distance or lips closed around the tapered tip of the dog's cock, and to let that salty, musky liquid fill his muzzle before swallowing it down, regardless of how too much of that taste made his face scrunch up and his tummy rumble, but... again, there were more important things on his mind.

So instead he just slid his paw along that length, fingerpads gliding smoothly over the already-wet surface of the hot flesh and pushing Marvin's sheath back, bunching it up in warm, thick folds of slick skin. The dog quickly got to where he had to adjust his position to put as much force behind his thrusts as he wanted, and it was this that made Rachen straighten up and lean back, pre-soaked paw leaving a trail of drippy slickness across the top blanket as he did so.

For a few seconds he knelt there, just looking and watching: no matter how many times he'd seen it in pictures or videos downloaded from online or even in person from just two feet away like this, the sight of a very intact and very male feral dog standing up with heavy sack and heavier cock hanging down underneath his belly, the latter glistening red and repeatedly twitching and shooting out jets of that same pre over the bed.

Something he hadn't yet done was stretch out a towel or a shirt or something underneath the dog while pawing him off, with the sole aim of getting that cloth soaked through with pre and cum... sure, it'd dry up after a while and the smell would warp, but he could still enjoy it until then-

As soon as Rachen rested his elbows on the edge of the bed and raised his tail, though, Marvin knew what he was being invited to do. Knowing this particular dog (as well as intact male dogs in general), there was no way he'd be able to resist that raised tail. A series of quiet thumps as his paws hit the floor, the jangling of the metal in his collar with his movement, a light snuffling sound when he shoved his nose up underneath Rachen's tail...

The foxwolf sucked in a gentle gasp at the cold, wet nose that touched against the sensitive skin of his pucker first, and then couldn't help but press his rump further backwards when a warm, wet tongue took the place of that nose. Firm, wide licks interspersed with more sniffing, each exhalation of breath under his tail or flick of that tongue making him clench up and throb again, his own hard cock twitching underneath him.

As content as anyone else might be to continue to dig their tongue into his rump just like he had for Marvin the previous day - this was a feral dog, with something different and more basic on his mind. His urgency and carnal need to get this done came through quite clearly with the first rough clambering of his paws and claws over the foxwolf's shoulders, the sudden weight of the feral forcing him to arch his back down and press his fingers more firmly into the mattress.

This was something he knew he'd have to brace himself for, even after all of the "practice" he'd had with this dog's owner. Though Marvin didn't have quite as much on Mr. Bronson in terms of thickness, there was still the whole fast, energetic thrusting right from the start, the first inch or so of his shaft bumping against the side of his rump, or a spot underneath his tailhole, or completely missing entirely... until that fleshy pointed tip brushed up against his pucker, stiffness behind it quickly allowing it to press in a little bit.

Just as he'd expected, the first thing to shoot through Rachen was that sharp uncomfortable pain, radiating out from the same spot that had just been made to feel so nice by the feral's tongue - followed by the deeper pressure of that cock sinking into him, fast and hard up to the slightly-swollen knot. One of Marvin's hindpaws scratched at his lower thigh, the dog's forelegs squeezed his shoulders, his muzzle pressed down next to his with hot breath puffing out again and again... and for a few seconds the foxwolf had to reach one paw down and push back against the dog's lower belly to keep him from doing that again, and to give himself a few seconds to get used to that girth stretching him wide.

There wasn't enough of his pre shooting out into him to be able to feel, but that would make itself known later - what with him having had no lube except for that and Marvin's saliva. Rachen gritted his teeth and swallowed, gingerly lightening the pressure of his paw to bring the dog's length deeper into him again... and even through the pain of each thrust radiating forward through his body and making him grunt through his teeth, there was still that warm irresistible pleasure underneath.

Sure, the original forceful entry and discomfort had actually caused him to go half-soft, even with everything on his mind and the scent and taste still clinging to his upper lip, but still - the foxwolf rested his forehead against the corner of the bed, swallowed down his pain, looked down between his legs... and saw with every thrust of Marvin on top of him, his own thick strand of sticky pre hanging out of the end of his own cock underneath him, swinging forward and back with the movement and gradually oozing longer.

It was just a matter of sticking with it and carrying through. Already he had no doubt that he'd be able to feel this tomorrow morning, as well as the morning following, but that would be worth it. It always was. His first time with Mr. Bronson had left him sore for a good week, and yet he hadn't had quite that much fun doing something like that before. But, then, there was that get-together earlier this month, which piqued that long-time interest in the back of the foxwolf's head and eventually led him to where he was now...

...on all fours over the edge of his mattress, a big feral male dog clamped onto his back pounding into him, breeding him like he was just another bitch. Marvin's balls pulled up close to his body with his thrusts so there wasn't that satisfying pressure of a hefty sack slapping against his own from behind, but still - if he reached a paw way back he could take that sack in his fingers and squeeze and rub, as well as feel the dripping pre that leaked out of his rump with each tug.

Of course it wasn't quite as romantic, for lack of a better word, as it had been in his dream. Raising his tail for a feral dog always led to something fast, and rough, and slightly painful, and deeply driven, something that would remain buried in his mind (as well as under his tail, depending) for quite a while following it - but that was all part of the appeal. With each thrust into him, each pound of the dog's growing knot against his stretched tailhole, more of that original pain leaked away into the same sweet, resounding pleasure that kept the foxwolf's jaw agape and that made him soon move his paw forward from the dog's sack to the base of his own cock, already back at its full length and - of course - practically drooling his own pre.

Eventually he couldn't help but let his voice bleed over into his breathy moans, picking up in volume and lascivious energy underneath, "aah, aah, aah-..." with the fingers of his paw keeping a tight grip on the blankets, while his other swiftly ran along his length. The powerful repeated thrusts had already gotten him fairly close, to say nothing about his dream earlier in the morning and his thoughts leading up to this, all of his wants and desires and thirsts (in more than one way) for this dog.

He knew it was damn unlikely, but there was still that one resilient thought in the back of his mind: what if Marvin were to pound his load into him, force his knot under his tail in a good solid tie, and then - empty his bladder as well? He'd certainly be able to feel that, hot piss rushing out into him and further bulging his belly out...

Speaking of knotting, though - the dog's thrusts slowed in pace a bit, only due to him continually trying to force his half-swollen knot further into the foxwolf's tailhole. Rachen pressed back against him, inviting the thick bulge of flesh and wanting to feel it fill and stretch him, his paw still working fast and hard along his own cock - and then when it finally did pop into him, he jerked forward briefly, swallowed down another gasp, gritted his teeth against the pain and subsequent pressure squeezing on his tailhole from the inside... and then jerked forward yet again, this time with his own load shooting out underneath him.

With each spurt he pressed a little more firmly back against Marvin, ignoring the deeper discomfort that came with having such a thick cock buried so deep under his tail, and clenching tightly around the base of that knot again and again. Then, thoroughly exhausted with the bright shivering pleasure following his orgasm still bouncing around in his body, he slumped over against the mattress - and straightened right back up once Marvin started to dismount to turn around. That was the worst part, especially when knotted: it felt like his insides were being twisted around and pulled... but then stopped, leaving him only with that powerful heat that throbbed inside of him.

One of the conditions for Mr. Bronson allowing him to "watch" his dog this weekend was that the foxwolf had to take pictures and video, quite a few of which he'd gotten yesterday. That was something he could just do later, which he'd have to, anyway: just like for this, he'd forgotten to grab it to record Marvin filling his muzzle with his mark, so... well. He could start worrying about that in thirty or so minutes.

Already he could feel the hot, slick mixture of Marvin's pre and cum rolling down the back of his sack and soaking into the fur around his tailhole, the foxwolf held tightly in place by that fat knot that still pulsed within him. But until then, all he could do was rest his muzzle on his arms here at the edge of the mattress and wait for the pounding of his heart to quiet down and the throbbing under his tail to do the same.

Again, it was a damn good thing he had the house to himself this weekend.