FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Some students worked fast food, gas stations, other minimum wage jobs, just enough to restock the dorm room with fresh ramen and energy drinks. Felix, a slender young wallaby with a spring in his step and a charmingly crooked smile, preferred a more direct approach to earning his money. The website was discreet, the clientele mostly clean, and the pay was exceptional. All it cost was a few hours of his evening, and the flexible hours meant he never had to sacrifice his grades.

Tonight's client was a "Mr. Davenport," a name that sounded more like a stuffy professor than a john. The address led him to a quiet, older apartment building. The hallway to the client's apartment smelled of old paper and dust motes dancing in the slanted afternoon light. Felix adjusted the strap of his messenger bag, the leather creaking softly against his shoulder. He checked the number on the door again: 3B. A deep breath, the kind he took before a final exam or a rugby match, and then he knocked. Three firm, confident raps.

The door opened with a groan of unoiled hinges. The figure silhouetted against the dimness of the apartment was tall, impossibly so, with a long, equine face and ears that swiveled towards the sound of Felix's arrival. His mane was dark and loosely braided, falling over one shoulder. He wore a simple, worn-out flannel shirt and jeans that looked like they'd been put on this morning and not taken off for a week.

"Come in," the horse said, his voice a low rumble, like stones shifting deep underground. He stepped aside, and Felix entered. The apartment was a library's explosion. Books were stacked in precarious towers on the floor, lined every available surface, and overflowed from shelves sagging under the weight. The air was thick with the sweet, slightly spicy scent of aging paper and something else... warm hay, maybe? A hint of male musk.

"I'm Felix," the wallaby said, offering a friendly smile. He let the door click shut behind him, the sound swallowed by the room. His own tail, thick and powerful, gave a slight twitch, a nervous habit he'd never quite managed to break.

"Silas," the horse rumbled, not taking the offered hand. His large, dark eyes took Felix in from head to toe, lingering on the athletic frame under the tight t-shirt and gym shorts. The look wasn't lecherous, more like a collector appraising a new, rare piece.

"You said... the full package," Silas stated, not asked. It was a confirmation, a final check on the transaction.

Felix's smile widened, becoming a touch more practiced, a touch more professional. "That's right. Whatever you'd like. For the next two hours."

A soft sigh escaped the horse, a gust of air smelling of hay and mint. "Good. I've... been looking forward to this."

Silas led him through the maze of books towards a cleared space in the center of the living room. A worn-looking leather armchair sat there, facing a threadbare sofa. A single, high-wattage lamp cast a warm, intimate glow over the area, leaving the towering bookshelves in shadow.

"Make yourself comfortable," Silas murmured, gesturing vaguely towards the sofa before sinking into the armchair. The old leather groaned under his considerable weight. He watched as Felix sat, placing his bag neatly beside him. The silence stretched, filled only by the tick of a hidden clock and the soft rustle of a book page settling.

"So, what are you studying?" Felix asked, breaking the quiet. He always tried this, to find a personal connection, to make it feel less... transactional. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes it just made things weirder.

"Classical history," Silas replied, his gaze fixed on Felix. "Specifically, the socio-economic impact of the late Roman grain trade." He said it with such dry intensity that Felix almost laughed.

"Sounds... heavy," Felix offered, deciding to cut the small talk. "Listen, why don't you tell me what you'd like to start with?"

The horse's long ears twitched forward. His large nostrils flared. "You. On your knees. Right here." He pointed to the plush rug at his feet.

The directness sent a little jolt through Felix. No games. This was a relief. He slid off the sofa, the movement fluid and graceful, and settled onto the rug. He looked up at the massive form in the chair, the sheer scale of the horse making him feel deliciously small. The scent of hay and male was stronger here, intoxicating.

"Get me out," Silas commanded, his voice still low, but with an undercurrent of urgency now.

Felix's hands went to the button of the worn jeans. He fumbled with it for a second, then pulled down the zipper. The fabric was soft from years of wear. He reached inside, past a pair of simple cotton briefs, and his fingers brushed against warm, velvety flesh. He carefully drew the horse's cock out. It was already partially erect, a marvel of equine anatomy. Long, thick, and dark, with a flared head that was slowly emerging from its sheath. The weight of it in his palm was substantial.

Felix leaned in, nuzzling the base with his cheek, inhaling that deep, musky scent. He felt a tremor run through Silas's body. He stuck out his tongue and gave a slow, deliberate lick from base to tip, tracing the thick vein on the underside. The horse let out a shuddering breath.

"Your mouth," Silas ground out. "Now."

Felix didn't need to be told twice. He opened wide, stretching his jaws to accommodate the impressive girth. The flared head slipped past his lips, smooth and hot against his tongue. He closed his lips around it, suckling gently, tasting the salty pre-cum already beading at the slit. He took more in, inch by slow inch, working his tongue, hollowing his cheeks. He looked up, locking eyes with the horse as he began to bob his head. Silas's dark eyes were half-lidded, his pupils blown wide with lust. The sight sent a thrill straight to Felix's own groin, his own sheath beginning to swell.

He built a rhythm, one hand wrapped around the base of the heavy shaft, stroking in time with the movements of his mouth. His other hand rested on Silas's denim-clad thigh, feeling the coiled muscle beneath. The horse began to move, a subtle rocking of his hips, pushing deeper, testing Felix's limits. Felix relaxed his throat, letting the flared head press against the back of it, a familiar, welcome pressure. Drool slicked the shaft, making soft, wet sounds fill the quiet room, mingling with Silas's increasingly labored breathing.

"Faster," the horse rasped, one large hand coming to rest on the back of Felix's head, not forcing, just resting, a warm, heavy presence.

Felix obliged, increasing the tempo, his head a blur of motion. He could feel the horse's cock swelling, hardening, the tell-tale sign of approaching release. He doubled his efforts, sucking hard, his tongue a whirlwind of sensation.

With a deep groan that seemed to vibrate from the floorboards up, Silas came. The first spurt was thick and copious, hitting the back of Felix's throat. He swallowed reflexively, the taste rich and powerful. He kept sucking, milking the pulsing shaft, swallowing everything the horse had to give until the flow subsided to a slow trickle. He finally pulled off, gasping for breath, a thin strand of cum connecting his lower lip to the tip of the horse's spent cock. He wiped it away with the back of his hand.

Silas slumped back in the chair, his chest rising and falling rapidly. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Felix remained on his knees, catching his breath, the taste of the horse still strong in his mouth. He knew this was just the appetizer.

"Take your clothes off," Silas said, his voice husky. He was already recovering, his dark eyes fixed on Felix with renewed hunger. "I want to see all of you."

Felix stood up, a slow, deliberate movement. The afterglow of the act, the taste of Silas still on his tongue, had settled into a warm, familiar buzz. He peeled off his sweaty t-shirt, revealing a lean, toned torso, the fur on his chest and abdomen a lighter shade of tan than the darker, brindled pattern on his back. His muscles, honed by hours on the university rugby pitch, were well-defined without being bulky. Then he turned away from the horse, fingers hooking onto the waistband of his shorts. He slowly slid them down to the floor, bending over slightly with his tail lifted in the air, revealing the tight neon green bikini briefs underneath. A little flourish he knew clients appreciated. The briefs hugged the curve of his ass perfectly, the fabric stretched taut over his firm cheeks.

Silas made a low sound, a mix of a whicker and a growl, deep in his chest. His gaze was intense, a palpable weight on Felix's exposed skin.

Felix kicked the shorts aside and turned back to face the horse. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of the briefs and, with another agonizingly slow motion, slid them down. His own cock, now fully erect, sprang free. It was a respectable size for a wallaby, pink and slick with arousal, the tapered head pointing directly at Silas. He stood there, completely bare, letting the horse look his fill. He could feel the horse's cum drying on his chin, a sticky, primal badge of honor.

"Over the sofa," Silas commanded, his own arousal stirring once more. He gestured with a long finger towards the threadbare piece of furniture. "Bend over. Hands on the cushion."

This was it. The main event. The one that paid for the fancy coffee and the textbooks he actually wanted to buy, not just the required ones. Felix's heart gave a little thump of anticipation. He walked to the sofa, his movements confident and fluid. He placed his hands on the arm, leaning over and presenting his ass. He spread his legs slightly, arching his back, offering himself completely. His powerful tail, now a deep, muscular appendage, curled slightly to the side, giving the horse an unobstructed view of the prize.

He heard Silas move behind him, the rustle of denim being shoved down, the heavy thud of boots being kicked off. Then he felt it, the immense, radiating heat of the horse's body, so close behind him. A large, calloused hand came to rest on the small of Felix's back, the touch surprisingly gentle.

"You're prepared, I hope," the horse's deep voice rumbled from directly above him.

"Always," Felix breathed into the worn fabric of the sofa cushion. In his bag, tucked away, was a small bottle of lube and a selection of condoms. Professionalism.

There was a soft click of a cap being opened, and then the cool, slick sensation of lube being drizzled over his entrance. Felix shivered, the sudden cold a shock against his heated skin. Then a thick finger was probing him, circling the tight ring of muscle before slowly pushing inside. It was a massive finger, and it stretched him deliciously. He let out a soft moan, pushing back against the intrusion. The finger withdrew, then returned with more lube, a second finger joining the first, scissoring gently, opening him up.

Silas was thorough, patient in a way that Felix hadn't expected from the initial gruffness. He worked Felix open with a methodical intensity, his other hand resting on Felix's hip, holding him steady. By the time he withdrew his fingers, Felix was panting, his hole slick and quivering, ready.

He felt the blunt, heavy head of the horse's cock press against him. The size was daunting, even more so than it had been in his mouth. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. "Go on," he urged, his voice tight with need.

Silas pushed forward, slowly, inexorably. The flared head popped past Felix's tight ring of muscle, sending a jolt of pure, unadulterated pleasure-pain through him. He cried out, his fingers digging into the sofa cushion. The horse paused, letting him adjust, a silent consideration that was almost touching.

"More," Felix gasped. "Please."

Silas obeyed, sinking deeper into him, inch by thick, glorious inch. The stretch was immense, a feeling of being completely and utterly filled. It was a sensation Felix craved, a feeling of being used, of being a vessel for another's pleasure. He was built for this, his body a perfect conduit for the horse's raw power.

Finally, he felt the coarse hair of the horse's sheath press against his ass. He was fully sheathed. Silas stayed still for a moment, letting them both savor the sensation. Then, he began to move. He started with slow, shallow thrusts, letting Felix get used to the rhythm. His large hands gripped Felix's hips, holding him in place, the grip possessive, absolute.

Felix was in heaven. The feeling of the huge cock moving inside him, the friction, the heat, the sheer primal power of the horse taking him... it was overwhelming. He found himself pushing back, meeting each thrust, urging him on. "Harder," he moaned. "Fuck me harder."

Silas complied. His thrusts became longer, deeper, more powerful. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, a raw, primal rhythm. The old sofa creaked in protest, threatening to collapse under the force of their coupling. Felix's own cock was trapped between his body and the sofa, the friction of each thrust sending jolts of pleasure through him. He was leaking steadily, a slick pool of pre-cum darkening the worn fabric beneath him.

Silas was grunting now, a deep, guttural sound with each thrust. He was lost in the sensation, a primal beast claiming his mate. His grip on Felix's hips tightened, the pressure sure to leave bruises in the morning. Felix didn't care. He welcomed it, a physical reminder of this encounter, a mark of the horse's possession.

The room was a blur of sensation. The scent of hay and sweat and sex. The sound of their bodies coming together. The feeling of being so completely, utterly filled. Felix felt his own orgasm building, a hot, tight coil in his belly. He reached back with one hand, trying to touch the horse, to feel the powerful body that was fucking him so thoroughly.

His fingers brushed against the hard, tensed muscle of Silas's thigh. The contact was electric. It was all it took. With a cry, Felix came, his cock pulsing, spurting hot cum onto the sofa cushions. His whole body shuddered, his ass clenching around the horse's cock, milking him for all he was worth.

The sensation of Felix's orgasm, the tight clenching of his ass, sent Silas over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside the wallaby and came, a flood of hot, copious seed filling him. The horse let out a deep, triumphant whinny, a sound of pure, unadulterated release.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, joined together, panting, their bodies slick with sweat. Then, slowly, carefully, Silas withdrew. The feeling of emptiness was sudden, almost jarring. Felix felt a stream of cum run down the inside of his thigh.

He pushed himself up, his arms trembling slightly. He turned to see Silas leaning against the back of the sofa, his chest heaving, a look of profound satisfaction on his long equine face. The horse's cock, now softening, glistened in the lamplight, slick with their combined fluids.

"You are... exceptional," Silas rumbled, his voice hoarse.

"Thank you," Felix said, a small, tired smile playing on his lips. He felt boneless, thoroughly used, and deeply satisfied. This was the feeling he chased, the feeling of a job well done.

Silas pushed himself away from the sofa and lumbered towards a small, cluttered desk in the corner of the room. He returned a moment later with a thick envelope. "As agreed," he said, holding it out to Felix.

Felix took it, the paper crisp in his hand. He didn't need to count it. He knew it would be there, in full. He tucked it safely into his discarded messenger bag. "Always a pleasure, Mr. Davenport."

"Silas," the horse corrected, a hint of a smile in his dark eyes. "And... the pleasure was all mine."

Felix gathered his clothes, the simple act of dressing feeling almost surreal after the intensity of their encounter. He pulled on his shorts, then his t-shirt, the fabric feeling rough against his sensitive skin. He left the soiled briefs where they lay, a small, personal tip for the horse to remember him by. He shouldered his bag, the weight of the money a comforting, solid presence.

At the door, he turned. "Have a good night, Silas."

"You too, Felix," the horse replied. He was already pulling up his jeans, the moment of intimacy passing, replaced once more by the quiet, introverted scholar surrounded by his towers of books.

Felix stepped out into the hallway, closing the door gently behind him. The air was cool and smelled of dust and disinfectant, a stark contrast to the heady, masculine scent of the apartment. He took a deep breath, the spring returning to his step. He walked towards the exit, the weight of the envelope in his bag a promise of a good week ahead. He had rent to pay, groceries to buy, and maybe, just maybe, he'd even splurge on that new rugby jersey he'd been eyeing. As he pushed open the heavy front door and stepped out into the cool night air, he couldn't help but smile.