FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The ding of an elevator shakes you from your concerted effort to memorize an index of indistinguishable functional groups. A melancholy sigh leaves your nose, throwing the thin layer of eraser shaving blanketing your notebook into a weak, pink whirlwind. The storm settled as you put your pencil down, surrendering the tool and embracing the listless boredom that'd been clawing at the back of your skull for hours. The elevator doors close jerkily, scraping against the concrete walls they were misaligned with. The admonishing screech of chalky pavement and scuffed metal draws your attention, and you watch the large alligator occupying it grip his computer bag anxiously as the elevator begins its descent. You're flooded with a fleeting sense of relief when you realize the floor was occupied by only you. You arch your back into a weak, slanted stretch, hoping the easing tension might distract from the twinge in your neck. That wish dies almost instantly, a sharp arc of pain shooting up your neck and through your ear as your eyes meet the reinforced windows of the library.

Your eyes are met with a warm gradient of orange and purple, the setting sun impaling itself on a tapering clocktower like an over-eager Christmas ornament. The otherwise pleasant sight does little to soothe your worsening nerves, and you draw the perforated blinds and blanket the carrel desk you're seated at in pre-mature darkness. Your paintbrush of a tail swings idly behind you, etching invisible parabolas into the air as you close your eyes and pocket your hands. You cross your legs and slide down the back of your chair, its spotted coat of yellowed coat of wood finish inviting small splinters to join your hoodie for the ride. The overextended lace of your left shoe wedges itself between the carpeted floor, undoing the sloppy knot it constituted as your other heel slid forward and into an exposed patch of concrete. Musty air floods your nostrils as you suffocate the instinct to sacrifice your comfortability and fix your shoelace, agitating your sinuses and tickling your throat. Your brief period of faux-relaxation is interrupted by the harsh buzz of your phone, its muted rattle exciting the cheap pens and worn pencils that neighbored it.

The abrupt arrival of yet another disturbance is enough to elicit an exhausted expletive, and you force an inquisitive hand into the small open pouch of your bag. You riffle through the chaos cheap school supplies longer than should have been necessary, running the free hand through the loose curls on your head and down the heavily trimmed mane lining your neck. Your ears part as the hand trails back, the left one catching on a narrow support beam before it can finish its dive. They perk back up as your hand meets the chipped plastic case of your phone, gripping it lazily and dragging it out with a litter of unsharpened pencils and paperclips. A pencil rolls across the desk and falls to the floor, bouncing weakly against the carpet and into the wall as you open an unlabeled media message from your partner. The phone freezes briefly before loading a blurry preview of your partners nude form. Your tight lips waver, a flustered blush burning beneath your fur as you sit up in your seat. You open the image with a timid thumb, bathing the wall behind you in a warm red light as your partner's unexpected gift presents itself to you. A pointed, red cock peeks from the folds of his sheath, trailing his dark brown fur with a line of clear pre-cum. A clawed paw rests nearby, brandishing a bright pink sticky-note with the message "for my favorite bunny" scribbled messily across the bottom. A small chuckle leaves your mouth as you read it, remembering the strange looks he got when referring to you as his favorite rabbit in front of a family of Donkeys.

The pleasant memory is interrupted by an even nicer feeling building in your crotch, and you briefly consider the feasibility of returning his favor. The floor was empty, after all, and it's not likely that anybody would be coming to the 9th floor on a Saturday night. With a cursory glance of your surroundings and a hasty readjustment in your seat, you gently guide your loose black sweatpants around your waist and down your thighs. You'd taken to going commando after hitting puberty, hating the uncomfortably tight grip they held on your balls whenever you wore them. The black sack was the first to escape the sweatpants, sliding off the waistband and onto the seat of your chair with an audible slap. The head of your cock was already exposed somewhat, the excitement of your lover's sultry surprise coaxing it out in timid interest. You run a finger along the bottom of its flat head, thrumming against its subtle ridges and urging it out even further. The member kneaded gently against your hand, pushing further and further outwards at the warm touch of your digits. The black head of your cock clashed with the spotted pink length it sat on, the small black dots accenting two thick veins snaking across its length. Their ends met at base of a single, thicker vein, that traveled under your medial ring and down towards the end of your shaft. The blackened skin of your cock returned once the ring made its way out, trapping pink bubbles of color within variably sized cages of grey before returning wholly to the dark color of the head. You eventually managed to persuade the entirely out of your sheath, the 12" throbbing expectantly in the air under the table.

You were far from being largest equine in the area, but your partner didn't seem to mind. He'd rather have a usable length than one he'd only be able to admire. You use your free hand to pull back the warm wrinkles of sheath surrounding the base of your cock, stiffening the member and prompting a spurt of precum to exit your phallus and drip slowly towards the ground. You use your shoulder to lift the front of your hoodie, exposing your thin stomach and pronounced hips. You raise your phone to the ceiling and snap a picture of the carefully crafted composition, reviewing it carefully before sending it to your unsuspecting partner. A warm feeling fills your chest as the message reaches its destination, waiting for its recipient to appraise its impressive contents. You set the phone down and look back to your cock, drooping as though it was neglected by its owner. You whisper a joking apology before reaching around its base, your fingers barely managing to meet each other before a spirited throb engorges your dick and forces them back apart. You shaky, self-satisfied breath leaves your muzzle as you reach another hand towards the head of your cock, lapping a thick bead of pre before slathering it thinly against the length of your member.

You stop, confident in your work, and wrap the hand just above the medial ring. You shimmy your ass towards the edge of your chair and get to work, guiding your cock through and back the tightening grip of your hands. Your nostrils flare and your breaths hasten as you continue, reveling in the much-needed overstimulation of your needy member. Your hips buck intermittently, sending dangling ropes of pre-cum off of your cock and onto the wooden enclosure beneath the desk. Your head slaps wetly against the bottom of the tabletop with each thrust, shaking the spilt office supplies and dampening the cheap softwood that composed it. A soft bray leaves your mouth as the head of your cock flares, widening eagerly as the fruits of your labor approach their exit. You give one last exaggerated pump with your hips and hands before your testicles tense and hug your taint, forcing volumes of thick seed up the length of your cock with visible pumps. Euphoria floods your body before a flood of cum rockets out of your cock, jettisoning out of its head and against the wooden desk. Seed splashed against the barrier with great force, falling to the floor in a shower of white, heavy droplets. The head of your cock flared even further before churning out 3 more virile shots before dwindling to a dribble. Your deed, arid breaths mixed with the salty stench of the cum, which coated floor and painted the underside of the desk with milky paint. You grab a crumpled napkin out of your backpack and clean what you can of your cock, tossing the soaking rag into the settling pool of cum in front of you.

Your cock has already begun to recede into its sheath, and you take this as an invitation to leave the library and head to your partner's dorm. Hopefully the nightly cleaning crew won't mind cleaning up after you. You shove the shrinking mass of cock into your sweatpants and down your pant leg before throwing your notebooks and assorted supplies into a random pocket on your bookbag. With a cursory evaluation of the tabletop and a hopeful examination of your clothes for cum stains, you stand up and approach the nearest stairwell. You readjust the remaining cock in your pant leg before looking up and spotting the angry, red LED of an active security camera. Ice cold terror climbs your spine and freezes your muscles, the reality of your situation sinking in like your seed will that poor wooden table. At least your neck pain subsided!