FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

I heard you stop back there a couple minutes ago, so I can only assume you're staring at my ass. You new around here? That's OK. We have a system down here at Praia das Dunas. Let me tell you about it.

Sluts... such as myself if I may do a little advertising... lay face-down on our beach towels as the Cape Verde sun beats down on our backs. If you see a tin cup in the sand, you've found yourself a genuine Praia das Dunas whore. That's right my friend, guys like me make a great living just by getting fucked in a tropical paradise.

Would you like to know more? Of _course_ you would.

So here's how it works: Guys walk up the beach, scoping out the wares. If the slut has a beach blanket tucked up over their ass, then they're not available. Maybe they need a rest, or maybe the last dick was a little too big for them. Who knows. However, if that beach blanket is down by their thighs and you see a fuzzy butt wriggling in the sea breeze, you've got a live one. They're primed, and lubed, and ready for a good dicking.

You put 40 Euro in that tin cup. Your little whore will check it, but tradition says they won't look back at you. This is an anonymous service, you see. If everything is Kosher, you screw them senseless. You have a minute to rest when you finish, but that's it... so no knot or anything. These are businessmen after all, they have other customers to service.

Let me tell you about my morning, you'll get the idea. I keep all my stuff in a picnic basket. It makes me look more innocent, or so I'm told. I set out my _beautiful_ rainbow towel around 8 meters from the ocean. Personally, I like to hear the tide going out when I fuck. If you get there early enough, you'll see me raise my rudder tail nice and high, and slowly work a couple of well oiled digits into my otter-hole. Why not? Everyone knows what we're here for, and I've got nothing to hide. I like to take my time actually, you can sometimes catch your first client of the day by finger-fucking yourself right in front of them. Create the need, service the need, savvy?

So I'm stretched a bit, well lubed, and open for business. The tin cup get twisted into the sand a foot from my hip, and my white beach blanket is pulled up to mid thigh. My brown lutrine ass is bare as the day I was born. Then I get out a book and read. This one is _50 Shades of Tan_. It's trash, I love it.

I hear someone coming close, soon after I'm all set up. I raise my rudder to expose my oil-slick little hole... you know, just in case I'm being too subtle. Sure enough, something goes into the cup. I take out the bills and examine them. Yup, 40 Euro, legit. It goes into my picnic basket, and I spread my legs a bit wider, in silent invitation.

Now _this_ is the best part, as far as I'm concerned. What kind of dick is about to be stuck into me? Will it be the scratch of feline barbs? Or maybe the spike of a canine? The corkscrew of a boar? Or am I about to get taken for a ride by a big equine of some sort? The thought almost makes me jizz into my beach towel right then and there.

In this case, my morning client is none of the above. The first sensation is like a pair of lips on my ass, and for a shocking moment I think my John is about to rim me. But then that faint lip-like protrusion is pushed _inside_ my asshole, quickly followed by a feverishly hot shaft. I sigh happily. That's the sensation of a mouse dick. Or a rat. Beautiful creatures in my book, and a good fuck first thing in the morning. I settle in to read my book as he gets to work.

Our rat... just a guess, but an educated one... our rat is around 7 inches long downstairs. By the time his balls are brushing against mine, I already know that I'm going to enjoy this. He's taking his time. He's hugging my thick tail to his chest. What a perfect gentleman! I moan and coo for him, flexing my experienced tailhole around the root of his penis. This spurs the rattie on. Soon his murine shaft is dragging over my prostate on every single in-stroke.

Call me a romantic, but my first thought was: I'm going to spray my fucking otter-batter all over myself on the first fuck of the day.

Alas, sometimes I'm a little _too_ good at my job. I'm panting hard and twerking my hips back at him like a fucking pop star. Five minutes of being helplessly rutted by this rodent, and I can't concentrate on my book any more. I'm close. The rub of my faggy rainbow blanket against my precum drenched hardon is about to make me pop. Suddenly my rat snarls and grabs my hips. He gasps, and I feel his fuzzy balls tighten and twitch against my own churning sac. With a slightly frustrated groan, I pulse my well stretched tailstar over the root of my John's tool, helping him drain his little swimmers into my bowels.

A gentleman to the end, my morning rodent strokes my tail and flanks as he pants and twitches his way back to sanity. Two minutes later, he's gone. Nice. Frustrating for me, but nice all around, if I'm honest. I clean myself up and apply more lube for the next buyer. That was like, 10 minutes ago, just before you failed to strike up a conversation.

Now cumming is a risk in this business. If you squirt all over yourself and you get your next John too quick, you won't really be into it. But if you never cum, you'll be frustrated as fuck by noon. I know what you're thinking... did I paw myself off and risk supreme frustration with my next client? Or am I still rock hard, just waiting for the next dick to push me over the edge?

Would you like to spend 40 Euros to find out?