FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Empty River: A Western Chapter 1: City of River and Rail Clinton could smell the day’s work on himself, and the day’s work on his lover. Moving cargo from steamboats to trains was sweaty work. He couldn't help himself when what happened happened. They met up at Cliff's house after sunset, it was Friday night and his father, the Sheriff, wanted to celebrate catching a notorious train robber or something and was putting on a feast for the deputies in the backyard, so the pair of them snuck off to Cliff's bedroom. Clinton shut the door and planted his wide nose on the goat's, letting their breaths mix while he guided them to the bed. He pressed his lips against the goat's as his paws moved to unbutton, unlatch, and untie every article of clothing from his lover. His black paws slid through the light blonde fur as he went, his black lips nibbled and sucked on the nearly white lips, and his darker shaft was already being caressed in those pale paws. Cliff was ready for this, judging from his already hard shaft and pulling Clinton into the bed by his horsecock. Neither of them were unfamiliar with this dynamic. Cliff would pull and lead and command while Clinton followed. There was something about the smaller goat directing him in the bedroom that made something in Clinton’s brain tingle. So when the goat insisted the horse fuck him right now, Clinton only paused to lube up his shaft. ‘Lube’ is a strong word, it was just a bottle of oil from the kitchen, but it worked. He stood at the edge of the bed with his cock in paw. It was so much larger than the goat’s, not that the goat was small, six inches was normal as far as the both of them knew, but Clinton’s was double that in length and width. Sure he was a horse, but it felt excessive, though Cliff seemed to love it. He pressed the head of his black and gray spotted shaft at the entrance of the goat’s hole. He felt Cliff shiver as it popped in, and as always, he paused to make sure he didn’t hurt the goat. More than once the worry that he had ruined the goat’s hole crossed his mind, but Cliff only ever enjoyed it. But, there was no way they’d find a doctor that wouldn’t expose them to the whole town if he ever did. He pressed forward gently while rubbing the goat’s belly, watching that nearly white face scrunch up in pleasure as it was nearly enveloped in the goat’s own black mane while it sunk into the pillow. It was always amazing to feel the head of his shaft through Cliff’s belly, but he never got to rub it as long as he wished. “More,” Cliff groaned and Clinton obliged. He sunk another few inches into his goat, watching him twitch and shudder under him but stopping at any sign of pain. ‘I want to watch that face forever.’ Crossed his mind. He let himself slip further in as he leaned down and kissed the goat on the nose. He grunted as he was pulled into a kiss on the lips. Neither of them were experienced kissers. They mashed their tongues and lips together at random, but they also didn't care. They enjoyed kissing each other, breathing in each other's breath, hearing each other moan, tasting each other. Alas, Clinton had trouble multitasking. He began thrusting into Cliff and pulled back from the kiss. He didn't get too far, the goat was pulling him back by biting the horse's lip. The bedframe creaked in protest at his movements, but he couldn’t stop, his goat was too tight and warm around his member. He could feel Cliff jerking himself underneath him as he thrusted, and he wanted the goat to cum first. He pulled himself nearly all the way out, making the flare on the head of his shaft rake against the goat’s prostate and then slid all the way in. The way Cliff let out a shuttered moan was beautiful. He did it again, watching that handsome face twist in pleasure, and kept going. “I-I’m gonna-” Cliff managed to say as his paw became a blur on his own shaft. Clinton thrust all the way in and planted his lips on the goat’s right as he felt that hole clench and wet spurts hit his belly. The way the goat looked as he came, the rhythmic clenching of that hole on his shaft, those lovely gasps, it was too much. Clinton grunted and shivered as his own orgasm hit and he began filling the goat. The next thing he knew, he was laying on the bed with Cliff in his arms, panting and staring into each other’s eyes. This… this was his favorite part of being with Cliff, just holding him close making him feel as loved as he felt. They could always clean up later. He leaned in and rubbed the side of his muzzle against the goat’s and felt the goat nuzzle back. Why couldn’t they just stay like this forever? “I love you.” Clinton said. “I love you too, big guy.” Cliff said. They laid like that until Clinton’s shaft got soft enough to slide out on its own. He knew Cliff well enough to know when something was bothering him. That distant look in his eyes as he thought through things while biting his lip. “You doing okay? Your Pa doesn’t suspect anything does he?” “I think I’m okay, just a bit disturbed.” Cliff rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. “Dad took me to the market today, wanted to buy 'something to butcher with his own two paws' for tonight's barbeque. I saw someone selling goats. The feral four legged kind, not people goats.” Cliffed turned to clarify and Clinton nodded before he continued. “The farmer had two goats for sale, and they looked exactly like me and my Pa. One was white with a black mane and the other was black with a white mane. The one that looked like me just looked into my eyes like it knew …something. Maybe it recognized we looked the same, maybe it was trying to warn me about something, I dunno. I pointed them out to Pa and he said he wasn’t in the mood to have goat. I had to specify that they looked exactly like us before he noticed!” Cliff turned and looked the horse in the eye. “Then he laughed and said it must be a sign we should cook up some goats tonight and bought them. He didn’t even realise how creepy that is! The moment we got home he made me help slit their throats and skin them. I tried to get out of it and he only let me go once he wanted to chop up the meat himself.” “God,” Clinton grimaced. “That’s fucked up, I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can help.” “You’re here, that helps.” Cliff leaned in and began to kiss the horse. Clinton kissed back, letting his tongue curl and flick against the goat's while their lips pressed and parted. He felt Cliff freeze on top of him mid-kiss, and he tried for a moment to bring him back in before frantic tapping on his shoulder made him open his eyes. Cliff's eyes were bugging out of his face as he stared at the doorway. Sheriff Charles Reese stood in the doorway. His dark fur unable to hide the red face he was getting, his teeth were clamped so tight they looked like they'd break, and his mane was like white fire wreathing his head. That black paw groped at his holster but it wasn’t there, his uniform from work was long since put away. Blood from the butchering was still on his button down shirt. “Clinton, I fucking knew you were up to no good! Where's my fucking gun!” The Sheriff yelled as he stomped down the hallway to his office. “Run!” Cliff said. Clinton scrambled off the bed and to his pile of clothes, wobbled around as he tried to put his jeans on, and jumped into his boots before he got the belt buckled. He swiveled around as he threw his arms into the shirt, boot steps echoing down the hall. Cliff was already at the window and had it open. He ran over to it but stopped before hopping through to the porch roof. “No matter what happens,” Clinton held the goat’s cheek in his paw. “I will always love you.” “I love you too, but run!” Cliff said as he slapped the horse’s ass. Cliff hopped through the window and immediately started sliding down the roof to the backyard full of deputies and officers. He realised his mistake but had no time to think on it, landing face first into the dry earth. “Where is that son of a bitch! I’ll kill him!” Sheriff Reese yelled from the room. Luckily, the gathering of policemen just laughed. “That eejit tried sleeping with the sheriff’s daughter!” “I’ve been there before.” and “Wait, the sheriff doesn’t have a daughter?” Were all things that he heard as he scrambled to his footpaws and broke into a run for the fence. He heard a bang and the whizz of a bullet going near his ear. He leapt over the waist high fence and broke into a run down the street. As well of a run that he could manage with his jeans unbuttoned and loose around his legs while his shirt fluttered behind him like a cape getting snagged on everything. The only thing he heard as he ran was. “If you kill him, I will fucking kill you!” That was Cliff's voice. Now his path was blurry from tears. “That tailraiser is going to hang, boy, do you want to hang with him?!” The Sheriff yelled back. He ran as far as he could, ignoring everyone in his path, and trying to finish putting on his clothes. By the time he got the last button secured on his shirt, he was at his little shack at the edge of town. A simple one room building, but it was his. Was his. He couldn’t stay. He slid the key into the lock and opened the door before shutting it tight. Sheriff Reese was not the sort of man to make idle threats, he knew that much. If he threatened hanging, it would happen. His body moved on its own, collecting clothes and tools that it placed in a knapsack. All the while, Clinton was swimming in a thousand different feelings and thoughts. He paused as he stepped on the loose floorboard. It was there for emergencies, and this was an emergency. He knelt and pulled the board up. He did not like guns, more than once he’d been told that men just have a killing urge and he needed one for protection, several of those times were by Sheriff Reese. He pulled out the six-shooter and the box of bullets, hiding them in his backpack. He also pulled out his savings, in a little mason jar labeled ‘for our house.’ Last, he pulled out a tiny box, and he opened it to check that the gold ring was still in it. ‘Will I ever see Cliff again?’ ‘I hope he’s okay, if anyone can handle his Pa, he can.’ ‘I need to get out of the city.’ ‘Where will I even go?’ His thoughts were stilled as he stood up from the loose floorboard. He didn’t have a lot, the sum total of his possessions fit in the one sack. Well, except the pan with his cooking stuff in it. His paw rested on the doorknob of his shack. ‘How will Cliff find me to tell me it’s safe to come back?’ There was no answer. There couldn’t be, Sheriff Reese would use anything to track him down. So he took out a knife from his pocket and carved a message into the walls. ‘Love is not a crime’ He locked the door out of habit as he left, but looking at the key in his paw he wondered why he’d keep it. He let it slide off into the dirt in front of the porch and left. His first stop was the market, he’d need food and water to get anywhere. Market street was still busy at this time of night, that was good. He’d stand out less. He was bee-lining it to the general store when he stopped. The fur on the back of his neck stood up, and he got goosebumps on his arms. He was being watched. Moving as little as possible, he looked around. The stable, a blue roan was staring at him. He turned to look fully at it. It… it was identical to him. The black face, black mane, black ‘sock and glove’ fur pattern, blue-grey everywhere else with dark spots in every spot he had. This feral horse looked exactly like him. He walked up, their eyes still locked together. Why was this happening? He got up close and reached out a paw. The blue roan stepped forward and nuzzled it, so he rubbed the muzzle gently. Looking into each other’s eyes, there was something wrong but also right? His limbs felt numb, but his mind felt focused. The whole world faded into the background and he couldn’t help but feel like there was something he was supposed to learn from this. “Howdy there!” A voice right next to him made both of the horses jump. “I see you’ve got your eyes on a stallion! You looking to buy a horse, sir?” “I…” He started. A horse would make things faster, and he could afford it. It would make money tight, but he could afford it. The plan of saving to get a house with Cliff was dead at the moment anyway. “Yes, I was thinking about getting a horse. I was drawn to this one because he looks just like me.” The black cat with large blotches of white fur quirked his eyebrow and looked back and forth between the horses. “Huh, well I’ll be darned! You look like twins!” The cat laughed. “This one’s a bit of a hellion though, smart enough to wait until the rider is not paying attention before bucking and sending them flying! We’s was planning on gelding him, calm him down now that we don’t need the breeding stock. Why don’t I show you some of our other fine horses!” “No,” Clinton shivered like someone stuck an ice cube down his shirt when the word gelding came up. “How much is he? Does he have a name?” “Well, alright. We call him Shadow and I normally wouldn’t let him go for less than fifty cause he’s a stallion, but you’re saving us the trouble of gelding ‘im, plus that temperament of his. How’s forty-five sound?” “Hmm,” Forty-five dollars, basically a year's worth of food. “How much for a saddle too? And saddle bags.” “Whole package, horse, saddle and saddlebags?” The cat thought. “Call it sixty dollars and it’s all yours.” Clinton reached into the hard to find pocket inside his knapsack and pulled out the money. That would leave him ten dollars to his name. He put the sixty dollars in the cat’s paw and the cat moved to get everything. A moment later he was back and briefly showed Clinton how to saddle the blue roan. “Huh, he’s being unusually well behaved, maybe you were meant to buy Shadow!” The cat said. Clinton mounted the horse, his boots tucked into the stirrups and the reins in his paws. There was something oddly familiar about this, but he’d never ridden a horse before. He just seemed to think and Shadow moved. “Thank ya’ kindly sir.” He said and Shadow began the trek to the general store. A few minutes loading up on everything he could afford to carry and he was off. He started west, out of town and down a road he’d not traveled before. Out of the city, away from his love, away from the Sheriff.