FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It's a dark windy night outside, rough and cold, but not inside. it's warm in here, this room, this bedroom if it can be called that. They're here again, the syndicate.

My husband (god those words make me shudder) is sitting, watching, drinking whisky from a cut glass, Looking on while a palomino breeds me from behind

Now do I have your undivided attention?

I'm enjoying it tonight, the feeling of his cock, the colourful stallion's crooked, thick and woefully bent muscle reaches all the places Cyril never goes. The palomino has a name, Timothy and he is one of the gentler of the four, yes there's four of them, him, a bull, a donkey, and a pig and Cyril of course. They represent the powerful land owners of the region the hooved four, five if you include my husband, they come here often, after meeting with Cyril, and I must... entertain them, that's the degrading part.

Cyril's here too, sometimes he gets involved, and sometimes he watches, sometimes he is clothed and sometimes he is un-clothed. He is clothed tonight observing, drinking the golden coloured liquid in the glass in his hand, interested without the faintest hint of arousal.

I always find it unsettling, but I have to look past that to the present, to the now and now I'm on the edge of climax, I nearly always cum before Timothy does and he makes sure of it, the others tend to just take their pleasure, finish and watch sometimes they even play with each other, but Timothy really takes a pride in his art. He is more of a lover than a rutter.

I can feel his unusual stallion length twisted and bent off at a slight angle, rubbing my insides, his wide un-flared head raking my passage with each thrust, golden and black marbled testicles occasionally bumping my excited black mound. He has me from behind, he likes to play feral, but he's deftly gentle, those teeth of his, biting my neck enough to drive me wild, but barely leaving a mark, his hips slapping against my buttocks. He's good, I'm almost there, pussy clamping down on his length bringing him just over boiling point. With a snort he slams home, now stabbing with his cock in the throes of ecstasy, One Stab, two stab, three stab, whinny, that's all I need I fall over the edge, fluids entirely of my own making gurgling from my sex, while he fills my insides, holding back the tide with a wide flared head.

All too soon I feel him deflate suddenly shrinking inside me, then a sliding, sucking feeling as he pulls out before he's really soft, a pity, I use my muscles in a vain effort to keep the lovely warm organ inside me, trying to milk the last nectar from the palomino, but he pulls free with a soft pop and my legs are splashed once again, my sex winking for a repeat performance. I received none Instead he leans forward taking my hand in his, kissing it, an entirely unnecessary formality but he is a gentle horse to the last.

"Good show, good show, Timothy you have out surpassed yourself" the pig congratulated his fellow wealthy landowner "the only problem is that you've left me a messy mare" the pig boomed, with his loud grunt'y voice "oh give over Barty, we all know you make a the biggest mess yourself, so stop winging and get on with it" Graham the donkey called over only half joking, the Charlie bull said nothing however, his lips wrapped firmly around the base of the donkey's long, thick shaft.

"I could get on with it over there instead, with you perhaps" the pig offered "yes please do" I thought to myself, I'm not a fan of Barty the pig, I don't like his breath, I don't like his penis, I don't like his trotter tipped fingers on my hide scratching me, and I most certainly do not like the thick gel plug he leaves behind him. "Always welcome", graham the donkey called back, "I'm never going to refuse an offer like that, not from you and not from anyone" he sticks his long donkey tongue out. "I've never known you to turn down an offer full stop, remember the weekend at rothbury?" Barty shot back. I shut the noise out the sound of them guffawing together was dreadful enough they were probably remembering a dirty weekend they'd spent in each other's company at another estate, memories known only to them, they could keep them as far as I was concerned, I was hoping in that all this talk of whatever experiences they had shared that weekend would make Barty lust for attentions of a different kind from his wealthy chums.

But alas, the pig comes up behind me, at least he's not interested in my muzzle tonight, I shudder slightly thinking about that low leathery sweaty smelly sheath and the, organ if it can be called that, residing inside. My foal's umbilical cord had possessed more visual appeal than that... thing.

I feel his leathery coarse hands resting on my rump, I turn and smile invitingly at him, I have to, it is not out of choice. Wearing only a leering grin he says nothing, lining up his grey sheath instead against my teardrop sex and begins thrusting, his thin penis slipping free immediately, squirming round my insides as if possessing a mind of its own.

Admittedly it scratches one or two itches but falls well below par when it comes to satisfaction. Now Timothy on the other hand... But then Timothy has many partners, his twisted stallion length proving very popular with female and male alike, exclusivity does not follow with Timothy, I knew that, but I still enjoyed him for the talented partner that he is.

I'll correct myself. I don't enjoy this at all really, I find it degrading, the whole thing. I don't know these furs, I certainly don't love them, but I would be willing to bet good money that I know their bodies in more intimate detail than their wives do. However, I must entertain our guests, and as Cyril likes to put it "keep the gentle furs happy, and we'll have them eating out of the palm of our hand" What he really means to say is that thinks he has them in the palm of his hooved hand. Me, I'm not sure how far a little sex and hospitality goes towards ensuring their loyalty and good favor, but (and I feel a sigh coming on) I do what I must.

At last Barty's stopped humping me, I'd barely noticed, he's now gone perfectly still filling me, with a thin seed that gradually becomes thicker and thicker eventually forming a kind of seal inside me. The others don't like it very much so pig usually gets to go last. sometimes my sex is really messy for him and he gets some of everyone else's offerings all over himself but, tonight's not been very squelchy at all, disappointing really, I like to see him walk around, his pale sheath, balls and legs covered in sticky wetness and the smell Is always an improvement on the usual Barty let me tell you.

It's the donkey's fault, or the lack of him, he is a big boy but he is also a brute, he takes his pleasure and doesn't stay inside for very long but my goodness can he cum, and cum, and sometimes he goes again but usually by that point in the evening it's fine by me.

Recently however, he seems to prefer the bull's attention they always seem happy to play with each other and lately they both appear to have lost interest in me completely which leaves just my husband (watching from the sidelines which I won't lie, it does feel rather unsettling) Timothy the gorgeous Palomino and Barty who is anything but.

These strange sessions of, let's be honest unpaid prostitution would be a lot harder without Timothy actually, It conflicts me enough already But without enjoying some aspect of it this would be completely soul destroying. But not to worry, we'll go for a little walk later, just you and I, then you might understand me a little better, how this mare keeps going.

Barty leans over me, stroking my back and sides and patting me like he's just finished breeding a four legged mare, actually the thought of it wouldn't surprise me at all, I feel I have the measure of this one, and he's definitely a dirty little depth plumber. But he's finished at last and it's awkward now we, just stay like that for a while, he doesn't really know what to say after sex, or before sex. In fact he never really addresses me at all preferring to quip and joke with the boys in that booming voice of his.

He just uses me like Cyril wants him to, like he wants them to. You know he really does beleive that it helps cement his position, our position, no definitely his position in this region, one of the things anyway, being a clever land owner, next the border regions (which London would like to keep civilized with a hoof in) helps, and good hospitality is one of the things he uses to keep the coalition of big land owners in the area in charge and in the governments good graces such as it is.

I feel Barty's weight shift off my back, he's done, I feel his strange corkscrew like penis retract into its sheath, soon after he climbs off my back giving me a pat on the bottom like a good horsy, I lay my ears flat before I catch myself looking round at him, he nods at me, making a gesture of tipping a hat he is not wearing whilst saying nothing to me.

What would he say that doesn't make it awkward? Thank you? Good ride lady mare? I want to ride the pony again? *shudder* No Please don't let him want to ride the pony again, it was horrid enough the first time. I rise, Taking control of situation, I cast my eyes around the plush room, it's a large room, grand, filled with ornate furnishings, I watch Graham the donkey now reciprocating for the bull lost to everyone but themselves, I doubt they would want any more tonight they hadn't had any to begin with, Barty had flopped himself down in an armchair eyes glazed over, that only left Timothy talking with Cyril. I walk over to the two of them, taking my time swishing my tail especially past the donkey and bull giving them an eye and nose full of what they were about to miss for the night.

The two horses, are engaged in a conversation over a new land purchase between them, and how best to keep the protectors happy and more importantly at arm's length, I knew a little about the subject the protectors had to be bought for little enough to make the enterprise not a lossmaking one, but had to be bought sufficiently enough to stop them sabotaging the whole thing.

The protectors are, well call them the local militia, mercenaries they are funded by the big five that includes us, but they run their own show as it were which always makes dealing with them slightly difficult

I touch my husband's arm leaning down next to him pressing my ample Bosom into his shoulder, "if everyone's happy, I'm going to retire for the night my dear" I speak the words softly into his right ear. "goodnight my love" then a kiss, a short one, so he can continue conversing with the palomino who is still naked, sweat and sex staining the fur of his now empty sheath with light frothy marks, I smile at him and get a smile in return and a wink.

I take my robe from the dressing table, slipping it round myself, I open the door I look back "Goodnight boys" I nicker as I walk out, not waiting for a reply.

I shiver padding down the corridor away from the room, it's nestled away in a wing on its own here and the old house feels chilly tonight, the room I had just left, benefited from a welcoming fire inside but here the corridors are never heated, I pull my robe tighter as I reach a flight of stairs and quietly begin my descent. Clopping down the stone staircase in the darkness just the ring of my unshod hooved for company and just the dim glow from an oil lamp just visible from the doorway at the bottom it felt quiet and lonely, perfect for me, I had trodden these stairs a hundred times.

Opening the heavy oak door, I feel a breeze rise through the garment kissing my nether lips like a cold hand across them, the sensation making me shiver again with cold and excitement.

I crunch across the rough gravel, the great house behind me before stepping onto meadow, moonlight lighting my way, the smell of wood smoke drifting to me, on the night air. An owl calls over to my left, and a feral fox cries in the distance, a long haunting scream, the sounds of the countryside at night, I don't break step I know where I'm going, heading toward a small stone house on the edge of the meadow but well within the estates large stone walls, enjoying our protection. This is not the first time I have come here and my hooves know the way off by heart.

I open the door quietly, and slip inside. I am greeted be a fire dying in its grate, the embers warm on my face radiating intense heat from the stone hearth. Sitting opposite in a broken old armchair, is Victor, his head bent, sleep having taken him hours ago.

I creep up behind the chair, reaching over the top with my nose and nuzzle between his ears, he jumps with a start for a moment before relaxing, ears to the side, "Chloe?" he calls. "Shush" I answer gently, nuzzling down his neck, then round his jaw, down the dark fur the side of his muzzle, feeling coarse brown turning to soft white, velvet under my mouth. My lips reach the corner of his, I lick, and he opens, allowing me inside, my tongue plays over his, feeling his blunt teeth. He turns and we kiss properly, muzzle to muzzle, I could taste the nettle tea he'd been drinking before he fell asleep, but then in fair exchange he could taste my whole evening. He broke rising to his feet and embraced me in his big arms. Head bent over my shoulder nuzzling my back, holding me, his large roughened working hands as soft and smooth now as the lightest touch of a gentle-horse.

Victor is a magnificent chestnut shire with glorious white feather, white blaze on his nose ending at his muzzle with lovely pink soft nose and soft, thick mobile lips. He has splotches of white elsewhere on his lovely coat, and I know where they all are. In fact Victor and I have known each other for a very long time, and I have been stealing away to his little stone estate house for almost as long.

I may be of equine nobility with my Hanoverian lineage, giving me Lithe athletic legs, a rich bay coat with black mane and tail, a smaller head and shorter muzzle perhaps but it gives me an air of intelligence and the ability to stare down any fur when needed.

But Victor also hailed from a long line of proud shire horses. Who fought in the Great War, the last Great War in which all hooved furs fought to free themselves along their four legged cousins from the enslavement of the predatory furs. There had been peace for two hundred years since with equines in overall control of the land forming a coalition government with all main groups of hooved animals, but things were becoming strange now.

Originally the Predators, predominantly the canines, felines had been killed or banished to the countryside or lands afar, the horses and bulls (more commonly gelding and bullock) that worked the land and heavy industry, the open cast coal mines and dangerous deep pits. Taking vengeance for generations of cruelty and sadistic treatment.

But the utopian dream of gentle hooved creatures running the land for the benefit of the "workers" never came true. The farms, quarries and pits became unproductive as the hoofers fought for power against one another, unions were formed, corruption was rife and chaos ruled.

Powerful families soon emerged, offering protection and work for the masses, these families spread and became influential, every region having its own large and influential households. It was only with these that successive governments became stable and the country started to become prosperous once more. But something was wrong and something else was missing entirely. It quickly became apparent that the predatory furs that had been castigated and banished were not banished at all, they were useful and had skills of their own that hooved furs did not possess, manual dexterity meant that they were great makers, keen and intelligent made them cultured with things to say, but above all else they possessed organizational skills far in excess or stallions bulls or rams, a long established movement of furs for a peace between the two groups of furs had become prevalent although never powerful, the old hooves with their old ideas still in power in every corner of the land and in the highest reaches of government. The general population were becoming fed up with it, things were unsettled there whispered talks of a second great war. I didn't believe it, but if there ever were such a thing it would be different. This time the population was not divided by hooves and paws, but by the haves and the have not's, local furs oppressed by the manor, and by the manor through the hands of the protectors.

That brings us to them, the protectors had been around long before I was born, their job was to protect the main houses lands, interests and their workers, they never come into the estate itself instead roaming around the countryside swiftly by horseback, supposedly protecting, but they operate on a tribal level, it's difficult to explain fully. So I'll leave that for later, besides I'm here, in front of a glowing fire with Victor... Need I say anymore?

Victor undid my gown, gently and sensually, his big hand's warm, lingering too long, slipping the garment from my shoulders, I could feel the embers from the fire now, warm against my fur, but Victor's hands were warmer still as be brought them from my shoulders and down my arms, keeping me close and far from him at the same time. He looked at my body in the dim glow, he knew exactly what I looked like but he looked anyway, brown eyes drinking the sight of me in, my solid chestnut fur, firm lean body, plump, breasts and wide hips, I was most certainly an hourglass horse. Victor's admiring eyes made my fur tingle but in a good way. I felt completely safe with Victor, he was a good horse, an honest horse, and, my secret love.

He hugged me in close and lifted me up, biting the side of my neck gently before sitting me down in the armchair he had occupied only moments earlier.

Kneeling down he brought his nose to my sex, his whiskers tickling my black lips, my breath caught in my throat and my sex gave a wink that was fine though, and nothing was ever forced or contrived with Victor. Looking at me he put his tongue out and gave a long lick drawing another wink, I felt my juices beginning to flow. He knew what was coming and shifted his weight on the floor, getting comfortable before deciding against it, he sat a moment sliding his simple trousers off with just a couple of lithe coltish movements. It gave me a good view of that triangular chestnut sheath and dark fat orbs swinging lazily beneath. The sheath wobbles as he sits back down getting comfortable again, like him I have seen it all before but I love the sight of that warm furry pocket, the way it bobs and pulses, not to mention all the promise it holds inside.

His lips are there again, his lips on my nether lips, he licks with his tongue first, a long deep stroke starting from the bottom of my teardrop to the top pressing on my hidden black nub with his nose, the soft velvety hairs making me quiver and leak white fluid, my fluid, a potent musky nectar. He's had enough and he can feel I have too, I want to feel his tongue inside me and he gives without a word passed between us as he slips the warm flat muscle inside.

He starts shallowly, ignoring my clit for now, little strokes making me quiver and moan, before probing further, ever further scooping out and drinking down the offerings of my earlier guests, he enjoys it, he can even differentiate between the textures and flavors, when he's finished he will tell me who was there tonight and who was not. He's reaching further, his head bobbing slightly I can see his jaw moving and throat swallowing, I'm not helping either, my juices gurgling from sex straight into his loving mouth.

"Ooh" I gasp, he's started using his lips now, the bottom one has the curve of my teardrop well and truly covered Victor doesn't like to waste a drop, his whiskers tickle my wide equine donut adding to the sensation, but his top lip. That Is what is really making me whicker and groan, he grinds his top lip with those soft downy hairs into my clit, or its hood to be precise, and every time I wink he scrapes it with his rough flat tongue. He uses his lips in a circular motion like horses would to groom each other. It's beginning to send me over the edge, I can't take it anymore, I tense up and, cum, my honey flowing freely now only to be scooped up by his willing tongue, he keeps going, wanting to bring me to a second climax, but I can't endure it, not tonight. I give his muzzle a gentle squeeze, he gets the idea, calling his tongue home and removing his muzzle, but not before giving my lips one final long lick "Oooo'h. You devil" I gasp. But I love him, I stroke his nose affectionately leaning down to kiss him deeply, tasting myself, and some of the boy's but they've mostly now travelled to his stomach, he enjoys it.

I look down to see his shire length slapping his belly, pre wetting his pelt, "Bring that here my love" I coo softly. I love his organ, the length, the width, he is a girthy boy even for a horse but most of all I love the taste. The taste of his skin, the taste of his watery pre, and the taste of his seed, I love that above all else and I'm happy to feast on it, to coax his creamy white secretion into my tummy.

He stands, and I drop to a kneeling position, lifting my hand to the shaft, familiarity giving me confidence, while I nose into his testicles, the earthy sweet smell filling my lungs. I waste no time licking and enjoying, I suck one orb into my mouth rolling it round inside before letting it slip away and mouthing the other one in giving it the same loving attention, they tasted wonderful, better than they smelled, but eventually I had to let that one slip free too.

I moved upwards to the sheath, furry warm pouch now full of stretched thick stallion cock, I nosed the fur until I felt the smooth skin of his shaft in the half light, I slipped my tongue out and lick a long loving lick from base to tip making him squirm and moan above I could feel his pre land in my head fur. I didn't care, that thing was like a fountain when he jerked it in excitement it only served to hasten my assent to his summit, and what a summit. He had a very impressive flare, so much so that it looked flared when it wasn't. It reminded me of a flower, a beautiful black and pink speckled flower full of delicious nectar for me to coax out.

I tease the flare, tasting its slight bitterness, I waste no time licking all around the edge with my own flat tongue, occasionally flicking over the head and straw like urethra it held within, the source of my tasty treat. I lick and tease the head more kissing the tip then running my tongue round the rim , the shire above me thrusting quite wildly now despite himself, but I love making Victor squirm almost as much as he loves making me moan. I relent, taking his broad head inside my muzzle, teasing the dimples around the flare with my tongue, gently squeezing the head with my jaw muscles. He nickers and thrusts his hips, a small flood of horsy pre filling my mouth, I swallow without a second thought, and I love the stuff.

I can get him to cum with my head right here, I know I can but I want to go deeper, I want him to enjoy this, but I'll be back up here soon, there's nothing quite like a stallion flaring just behind your teeth, it's so much better than down your throat, you can taste all of him here.

I drop my head quickly, and with practiced ease down his smooth length not going all the way down, but I get to his median ring, the prominent fleshy ridge just begging for some attention, I lick the underside of it drawing a groan from my stallion, before closing my lips forming a seal around it and squeezing, that drew a little whinny. My love was close. I slowly traced my way back up his length before slipping fluidly down again and again, a third time I could hear him grunt and feel him start to swell, a fourth time, then I quickly came back up and held him in my mouth, bringing my hands to play, to work the shaft. I hear him nicker and feel his flare swell, a pause, then a soft little whinny as the first jet of seed hits the roof of my mouth, I bring my tongue back and up to slather the smooth flare and the hole, catching his cum on my tongue, tasting it hot, and rich and earthy, it gives me the chance to enjoy it before I swallow, but swallow I must because each long spurt is merely replaced with another, and another, and another. Wave after wave of rich thick semen, sliding down my throat.

He's slowing now, and as he does his seed thickens more, the last few spurts almost gelatinous, delicious, I feel him soften so I release him from my mouth straight away, catching his flopping head in my right hand, leaving it to hang and soften, I know how sensitive boys can get afterward.

I stand, kissing my lover deeply sharing the last of his seed with him, I don't ask him, he has a thing for cum and loves it as much as I do, more I would say, this is not the first time he has enjoyed a meal courtesy of the hooved four. We have whiled away many a dark evening with my hands wrapped in his coarse black mane, and his tongue buried deep within my quivering black teardrop.

But for now we just sit, together on an old setae, I lie against him, his arms wrapped around me loosely, not possessively but lovingly. Familiarity making us comfortable in each other's company enjoying the warmth of one another, watching the embers in the fire spit and ripple red fire dancing across the blackened ash covered logs.

We stay that way all night, until the early rays of morning light wake me, and I slip from his arms. He wakes from his slumber and kisses me gently on the nose. I take my gown from where he'd carefully laid it, I slip it around me, then take a blanket and spread it over him before nuzzling his nose before opening the door to face the chilly dawn air.

I return to my, chambers, I have my own Cyril never likes sleeping with me, he never has only when necessity demanded it. That session some eighteen years ago had produced a beautiful black colt, my son and now a member of the local Protectors, our local militia I was talking about earlier, we own, finance and for the past two years have our own blood inside, I hated the thought of him going, but to Cyril's calculating mind it was a done deal. I hated the idea of son, my beautiful colt, mixing with those thuggish brutes, fighting renegades and bandits, but it was done now.

I clop quietly back to my quarters, in a different wing, a warmer one, but still chilly. My sheets feel even chillier no, they felt outright damp and cold. With me not there to tend a fire the old house cooled quickly even in autumn. I draw them up to my muzzle shivering under the thick quilt, at least it will warm soon. There are a few more hours till I usually rise so I will steal some more sleep.

I wake with a start, Cyril is at the side of my bed, it's bright, the light from the windows stinging my eyes. Cyril never comes here, I sit up and face him quickly "Cyril, what's wrong" I ask alarmed, something must be wrong he never comes here, he never wants to touch me or hold me, I think we both know that he enjoys watching others doing that.

He "shushed" softly, stroking my forelock "Barty and the rest of the syndicate will be staying here a bit longer than planned, and attending the little get together tonight in the main hall but more will be coming, a few of them will be joining us in the suite, you haven't met these gentle furs yet but I want you to help me entertain them later in the same way you do for our own little circle" I nod slowly, my mouth dry with the thought, the four are bad enough I hope there isn't another porcine "and Chloe" his voice sharp, snapping me back to now. "I would very much like my estate keeper, and most trusted friend, to attend the gathering tonight" My heart skipped a beat, he had put too much emphasis on "most trusted friend" he was looking at me now, looking through me. "See to it that he'll be there for me" I nod a second time "good, I would invite him myself but I'm tied up, for the rest of the day" he leaned down and pecked my forehead before turning and striding away, his tail slicing through the air in his wake.