FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The air in and around the truck stop was still. Flamey was thankful for that. He guessed it was forty degrees that night, and the grimy thermometer bolted beside the window supported that guess. When the wind blew, it icily cut through his fishnet and boyshorts, stinging him like frozen fingers. The plush coat of gray fur on his young, gay body helped, but only so much. Flamey fancied himself a creature of breeding and decadence, and slumming it in a frigid truck stop parking lot was far removed from the circumstances he preferred to see himself in.

Flamey rubbed his biceps, breathed into his palms, rubbed his biceps again. It had been forty-five minutes since his last trick, and his friend wouldn't be by to collect him for another two hours. The small wad of bills in his pocket was encouraging, but it didn't keep him warm, and the fact that his three tricks so far had only wanted no-nonsense blowjobs left little opportunity to warm up in their cozy truck cabs. Flamey appreciated the opportunities to handle the thick and greasy cocks of a horse, skunk, and bear, respectively, but he lamented not being able to savor the masculine stink fermenting in their crotches and asses and armpits. Scent was as important to the young fox as physicality; a lack of scent appreciation was like eating without tasting his food.

He took his phone from his pocket and checked the time. It was quarter past ten, and it seemed the truck stop was dead for the night. As he slid his phone back into his pocket, he watched a few truckers leave the restaurant. A lion with a graying mane and a pretty, but similarly aged lioness left one after the other before walking side-by-side to a shiny blue truck in the lot. Not long after, a bull whose horns nearly touched the door frame strode out, and Flamey thought about offering his services. He also thought about how easily a seven-foot-tall bull could murder a young queer and ultimately decided not to take his chances.

But then he saw a fourth trucker exit the building, this one a tall but tubby creature, a solid black wolf who looked distinctly soft to the fox. It was not unlike a sixth sense in that Flamey could tell that this one was safe. He slipped out of the shadows and sidled up to the wolf, smiling as he did so. "Hey, hello there," he said, managing not to chatter his teeth. He was nervous as well as freezing.

The wolf glanced at Flamey with defensive orange eyes. He quickly saw that the fox was no threat, and he smiled in a manner which was far too wide to be simply friendly. "He-e-ey there, kiddo. There some rave around here I don't know about?"

Flamey blinked, then thought of what he was wearing. He giggled. "Oh-! No, uh, nah. I'm just... uh, shit. I'm not very good at this."

They passed by the bull as he climbed into his truck. He gave Flamey a half-interested look before he shut the door.

"Not very good at what?" asked the wolf slyly. "No, wait... let me guess."

Here we go, Flamey thought miserably.

Still walking, the wolf murmured, "You want to sell me something. You're selling, let's see here," he wisely rubbed his chin, producing a noise like sandpaper, "Amway?"

"Nnno," Flamey said, and chuckled. "Uh, mister, maybe I should just go-."

"Nah, you can stick with me," the wolf said brightly. They passed under one of the lot's street lamps, and Flamey saw that the wolf was considerably gray in the face. "You don't look like you belong here. You hooking, kiddo?"

Flamey was so shocked by the bluntness that he sputtered, "N-no!" He fluttered his eyelids, growing red in the cheeks. "I mean, yes. Kind of. I'm not-."

"Not very good at this?" the wolf suggested, grinning. "It's okay, kid. Can't win 'em all." He turned off the path sharply enough that Flamey walked into him, but it hardly fazed the stout, chubby wolf. He grabbed the fox gingerly and unhanded him after standing him up straight. "You wanna do me, kid?"

"I mean-, well," Flamey followed the wolf into the parking lot uncertainly, "you're pretty... pretty handsome, yeah." Dammit, you're supposed to be the cool one, not the customer!

"Nice of you to say, kiddo." The wolf glanced over his shoulder, smiling. "My truck's over this way. Unless you wanna go do this in the john or somethin'."

Flamey grunted. "Oh, god no. You been in there?"

The wolf laughed. It cut through the still air like a gunshot. "No way, kid, you think I'm crazy? That's what the back alley is for, anyhow." He let Flamey catch up, then threw an arm around his shoulders. "What's your name, kid? I'm Ryan."

"Flamey," he said amicably. He pressed into Ryan's warm body and said unnecessarily, "I'm freezing."

"Non-indicative name, huh?" Ryan squeezed Flamey close, and the boy felt Ryan's armpit sweat ooze through his fishnet. "Don't worry, cutie. We'll getcha all warmed up."

Ryan unlocked the driver's side door of his tired, black truck and climbed up inside. Flamey started to walk around the nose of the truck but Ryan called him back. "Where you goin', kid? Just climb up this side."

Flamey stepped up on the running board and Ryan pulled him inside with surprising strength. The boy gasped, finding himself sprawled across Ryan's lap as if he were about to be spanked. Ryan had the same thought; he gave Flamey's bottom a firm pat and then nudged him toward the passenger's seat. "Go on, y'little streetwalker," he said, snickering. "Lemme just get the truck started up, get us some heat in here, and we'll get down to business."

The fox settled into the passenger's seat, timidly putting his feet down in the carpet of crumpled fast food bags. Ryan keyed the ignition and the truck shuddered, its engine ticking and grumbling irately before it turned over, and over, and over, finally engaging. Almost immediately, cool air blew out of the vents and Flamey instinctively recoiled.

"Relax," Ryan said. "She just needs to warm up."

"Sorry," the fox self-consciously said, smiling at the wolf in the dark of the cab. Ryan's graying face glowed in the light of the instrument panel with a blue pallor. "So, uh, hey... tell me what gets you going, big guy."

Ryan laughed. "Big guy? Cheezus Christ, kiddo, that kinda talk doesn't suit you. How's about you just call me Ryan, or daddy, and we'll make that work?"

The fox scooted across the seats, taking care to avoid the gear shifter. "Sorry, Ryan. This is my first night."

Ryan squeezed him close and smooched his cheek. Although the wolf's breath was indicative of a bad tooth, the sweetness of the gesture made Flamey coo. He tentatively kissed back on Ryan's cracked nose. "No big deal, kid," Ryan murmured, wrapping a meaty paw around the boy's groin. The tight denim boyshorts left little to the imagination, but he loved the feeling of the boy's swelling penis under his palm. "Hey, feel free to correct me here, but you pretty much just take it in the pooper, right?"

The choice of terms made Flamey snicker and grin. "Yeah, that's about it. I don't top unless you sit on my dick."

"Don't gimme any ideas," the trucker slyly said. He licked Flamey's cheek, leaving a wide stripe of drool in his fur. "What're your prices, kiddo? Hm?"

Flamey finally felt warm air from the vents, but by then he wasn't sure he needed it. He closed his eyes, resting dreamily in Ryan's arms, and greedily fondled the trucker's thick package in one grubby paw. "Mm, well... fucking me in the butt is fifty, but I'll take ten off of that if you rim me."

Ryan laughed. "A hooker with discounts? Never heard of that before." He squeezed down suddenly and so roughly that Flamey whined, but it was a sound of ecstasy. His cock tried to tent the shorts but there wasn't enough room for that, so it made a stiff lump in the fabric instead. "You're a cute little slut, kid... how much for you to lick my asshole?"

"Oh, god, I don't-, I don't know," Flamey said, blushing crimson. He played all across Ryan's groin with almost trembling fingers. "Uh, ten? Ten dollars?"

"So-o-o, forty to lick-and-stick that ass of yours, ten to sit on your face," he ignored the quiet, overwhelmed groan the boy made, "fifty bucks total? Let's call that sixty. All papa's got is twenties. Sound good, kiddo?"

The boy knew then and there he was completely out of his league with Ryan. He kissed the wolf's chin and mumbled his affirmative reply.

"That's just swell," Ryan said amicably, slipping his fat fingers under the flap of the boy's fly. His claw dragged along the zipper teeth. "Y'know, kid, I wouldn't blame ya' if you thought I can't see my dick for my gut. You think that's how it is?"

"No. No, sir," Flamey said, knowing full well that was exactly what he thought, except now there was some uncertainty. Even if Ryan did happen to be deficient in that area, Flamey knew he wouldn't mind it. Ryan stank like a real man, and he acted like one, gayness notwithstanding. There was that business of the imminent rimming to be thankful for too. "I bet you're huge. Just-, you know, so big."

"God damn," Ryan said, laughing in near disbelief. "You're so fucking bad at the dirty talk stuff, kid. It's actually real cute." He gripped the lead of Flamey's zipper and tugged it down slowly. A glimpse of cyan fabric showed through the gap. "Bein' cute is a good way into my pants, by the by."

"I'm new at thi-i-is," the boy muttered, blushing. "I feel like I'm supposed to be undressing you right now. Am I being unprofessional?"

"No wrong way to fuck a trucker so far as I'm concerned," said Ryan, a verbal shrug. He slid his fingers into the opened split of Flamey's fly, closing warm, plump digits around the boy's clothed cock. "Feels like a nice dick you got down here, kiddo. You ever fuck a nasty old man like me?"

Flamey smiled tersely. He nuzzled near the wolf's armpit and loved the stink of the musk. "Oh, uh, I don't fuck much of anything," Flamey admitted shamefully. "I'm sorry."

"Don't gotta be sorry, kid. Some guys don't do the fucking." He gave Flamey a lick across the bridge of his muzzle, making it purposefully slobbery and sloppy. The boy went cross-eyed before he winced his eyes shut. "Just means I gotta ride your snout a little harder, cutie."

Ignoring the drool as best he could even though it clung to his fur like syrup, Flamey said, "Let's do that now. My, uh, face is kinda cold still."

Ryan snickered. He pulled aside the blackout curtain behind the seats, unveiling a cramped compartment which seemed barely big enough for one, let alone two. A disgusting cot soaked with sweat and god-only-knew what else waited for Flamey, and the fox distinctly thought I'm gonna have fleas before I leave this truck. "After you," Ryan said pleasantly, breaking the boy out of his thoughts.

"Oh, a gentleman," Flamey heard himself saying. He pecked Ryan on the chin, finding the wolf impossible to resist. Ryan was handsome, charming, and mature in his age - three things which Flamey always found unbearably attractive in his men. "Guess I'll just-, um? Lay back? Back here?"

"That'll do it, kid," Ryan affirmed, and he began unbuckling his belt. Flamey wanted to hang back and see the unveiling of Ryan's dick, curious to see if the wolf was hung or not, but he thought how desperate he must look and pressed on into the sleeper compartment. He found it chilly back there, given that it was shielded from the cab by the thick curtain. Not to worry about that, he thought. Big ol' daddy wolf's about to warm me up real good, I'm sure. His tail swished in anticipation. His penis throbbed under the tight, breathable fabric of his g-string.

Ryan's scruffy, trucker capped head popped through the curtain and he surveyed the direction his rented boybitch was lying. He caught the fox's eyes and smiled devilishly. "'Bout to be a full moon in here," he said coyly. "Remember to put on your protective eye wear, kids."

Flamey grinned. "Hurry up and sit on me, why don't you? I've made peace with my fate, let's just get it over with."

"Oh, your fate, huh?" Ryan dryly replied, bringing his bottomless self through the curtain. The heavy truck shifted with his moving weight. "Yeah, poor Flamey. Hates being pinned under fat asses, s'why he comes to a truck stop to turn tricks."

Ryan moved ponderously. Feet in socks which had once been white but were now a mildly nauseating shade of yellow from sweat and grime and moved mercifully past Flamey's head. He smelled them only briefly, which he was thankful for, though he found himself momentarily wondering why he found Ryan's body odor acceptable but his sweaty feet nasty.

The boy didn't have long to think it over. Ryan's ass descended on him like a pair of black blimps with a seam of gray between them. As the wolf lowered his ass, he worked apart his legs, and the cheeks split just enough that Flamey could see even in this low light the winking, pink entrance to Ryan's ass. The wolf's ass crack bumped his nose, and all light vanished from the fox's world, replaced by a wonderful gamut of musky smells.

For even a dedicated ass-munching faggot like Flamey, Ryan's ass was an advanced flavor as complex as an aged wine or a fine cheese, and equally as rewarding to the discerning palate. It was Flamey's first instinct to wince and whine and try to shove away Ryan's ass. He took all three actions urgently, feeling smothered and offended, this feeling only worsening as his nose bumped the ring of the trucker's anus. He inhaled Ryan's masculine smell, and where he had once been pushing, he began pulling on the wolf. He drew another hit of powerful musk from the tap, and now he slopped his long tongue out across Ryan's taint, dragging it back in an exploratory manner. He felt around to the trucker's cock, finding it hard as stone and of wonderful proportions. Its greasy flesh barely fit in the boy's fingers.

"There ya' go, kiddo," Ryan purred in his difficult-to-place American drawl. He gyrated against Flamey's face, making his fat cheeks snuggle the vulpine snout wedged between them. "Just breathe your daddy wolf in, let that trucker stank work its magic." His cadence was warm and gentle, a complement to the way he caressed the boy's belly, which Flamey ticklishly sucked in. Down went Ryan's fingers, a claw dragging through the boy's navel, following the dip like a record needle. Still he traced further down, sliding his digits across the cyan satin of the g-string.

Ryan pulled down the boy's g-string, exposing a cock both fair in size and inferior to his own. It was no teeny-peen, standing a very proud six inches, and it was almost a handful for Ryan when he closed his fist around its pink, uncircumcised flesh. But the trucker was simply better-hung, and unlike Flamey, he had the will to use it as more than just a towel hook. He still warmly noted, "Cute dick, kid. I'd touch my toes if you were willin' to play ball like that."

Flamey snuffled Ryan's plump anus, thinking in his musk-drunk haze how nice it would be to bury it balls-deep in that trucker pucker. He felt almost like he could do it, and he lapped Ryan's asshole briskly, smearing thick slobber across the flesh with his indulgent strokes. His paws caressed Ryan, loping down the pudgy pear of his body. He felt across rolls of husky fat, through and then under the grease- and sweat-stained tee he wore on his body which bore the legend USE NOZZLE TO INFLATE on its breast, and below that was a downward-pointing arrow taking up much of the belly.

The wolf masturbated his slut-for-hire slowly, keeping his grip possessively firm. Flamey loved the roughness of Ryan's paw, the callouses from age and labor lending an aged texture to match his stink and size. Reverent of the papa wolf, Flamey stroked up under Ryan's lewd shirt, and his paws closed around the trucker's moobs hungrily. He was delighted, albeit unsurprised, to feel that Ryan's nipples were hard. Still lapping and snorting in flip-flopping takes, Flamey twiddled Ryan's nipples, spurring the wolf into an almost-giggling hitch of laughter.

"Ah, hey kid. There ya' go. Tune me in," cooed Ryan, grinning. "Seems like you know how to 'preciate a well-fed guy. Someone's gettin' a tip for that."

Flamey did tune the wolf's tits, and he did it eagerly, twiddling and twisting the perky nubs with grabby fingers. No matter how far he seemed to get into the act, Ryan never seemed to mind, always moaning and gyrating into and across the fox's hapless snout. Ryan was a sweaty beast even in this cold compartment of his idling truck, and his sweat was fast becoming a part of Flamey's complexion. It soaked through his fur, smearing in and marking his flesh with the unmistakable scent of an old, tubby wolf.

It was a hopeless situation for Flamey. Not because he was despondent about anything, but because he was going to cum and he knew it. Ryan's slow jerks were wonderful in their temperance, but it was the combination of smell, flavor, and tactile sensations - in that order - which drove the young whore wild. His paws slid around to Ryan's armpits and he groped into the grease and sweat, and it sluiced through his fingers like lotion. He whimpered, craving Ryan in the most despicable of ways. He pushed his tongue against the fat wolf's asshole, working it into the ring like a probing finger.

Catching on immediately, Ryan made it a point to relax his ass. He still gyrated, but he slowed it, giving the boy more slack to work with. "You gonna French with my old ass? Nasty kid..." Flamey couldn't see if Ryan was shaking his head like a disappointed dad, but he had the feeling the wolf was doing exactly that. "Lemme tell you what," Ryan said conspiratorially, and as he doubled his pudgy self over. His ass perked out into Flamey's face, the button of his anus presented clearly now. "Papa wolf's gonna take good care of you, kiddo. You just kiss my ass like you're already doing. I'll make it an even hundred if you make me pop."

Flamey, stuck and happy with himself, caressed Ryan's plush fur. The sweat in his palms smeared off quickly. He found that he appreciated the oily, unwashed texture of the wolf's coat, but even more than that, he adored the plushness of the fatty flesh underneath; Ryan was a handsome beast built for harsh winters. Flamey pushed his tongue lustfully against Ryan's anus, the pucker involuntarily winking as if being playful.

The wolf's slobbery maw closed around Flamey's cock in one huge gulp and Flamey crooned, briefly abandoning his attempts to make out with Ryan's fat old ass. He bucked his hips, accomplishing little but feeling good in the process.

Ryan proved surprisingly skilled at the art of sucking cock. His yellowed teeth grazed the flesh; his enormous tongue slathered the meat with eager doggy kisses. Runners of saliva oozed past his jowl-lips, closed loosely around the boy. He housed Flamey's eager penis in his mouth while he stroked and slurped it with his tongue, driving the under-dressed fox absolutely wild. He whimpered and moaned, pawing at the hemispheres of Ryan's cheeks with his desperate paws.

Ryan eased back and left Flamey's cock twitching eagerly. Saliva rolled down the shaft like melted candle wax. "C'mon, kid," he said with mild urgency. "French that ass."

I'm trying, oh good god I'm fucking trying, you big beautiful chunk of a man, thought Flamey madly, pushing his tongue single-mindedly against the wolf's asshole, that perfect pucker so ripe with musk and sweat funk. Flamey's nose ground just above the ring, and he was stricken in a moment of lucidity - just as Ryan gulped him in again, sucking a bit this time - by just how foul Ryan was. There were other, similar adjectives for it, but what sprang to mind was foul. Ryan was rank with sweat and probably hadn't showered in two weeks, a monster of musk and sweat and drool. His penis throbbed on the boy's breast, precum soaking easily through the fishnet to soak Flamey with rivulets of liquid musk. The old man's balls rested on his neck like part of a peculiar scarf, warming him but further marking him as a cum dumpster.

Ryan made a hard seal with his sticky, slobbery jowls. He sucked the boy without hesitation, making pink flesh flush red and veins pop angrily to its surface. The new tension in his cock left Flamey quivering beneath Ryan and his toes began to curl, the surest sign of pleasure in any case.

Flamey finally breached Ryan, plunging his thin, broad fox tongue into the wolf's asshole. He could taste the musk of the wolf from a fresher source than he ever thought possible. He tongued and slobbered viciously, mashing his sticky jowls to the pucker like Ryan did to his crotch. He sucked Ryan's asshole, making its pink flesh plump up, drawing more comparisons to his own tender penis.

Ryan wiggled against the boy, huffing out of his nostrils across Flamey's balls like a dragon about to snort fire. And the exhalation was indeed hot, warming Flamey with its humidity in the slow-to-warm fuck-chamber behind the seats, but the boy was past the point of worrying about cold fingers and toes. He found himself gulping on Ryan's ass, tonguing it more sordidly than he had ever kissed another man on the lips. His paws roamed the great black expanses of Ryan's body, worshiping fatty flesh and sebum-heavy fur, smearing oily tufts into swirls and smoothing others down into neat, contiguous flows. He was in love with his trick, enthralled by his musk, and it was in no small part due to his imminent climax. He was close and he knew it enhanced how he experienced Ryan.

Flamey wished to speak, but that was of course impossible. He would have moaned to Ryan about how he was going to pop, but the sucking and slobbering wolf - and oh how noisy Ryan was in his work - knew already. Flamey was throbbing in Ryan's hungry old mouth. He bucked into Ryan's face, accomplishing nothing just as before but feeling fantastic in spite of it. He was exulted from the flavors and smells and textures which Ryan had to offer and the sickeningly raw sex he gave. Flamey never wanted to leave that perfect moment, but he did. He came, shooting plump ropes of spunk into the wolf. All the tricks he'd turned that night had given no concern to his pleasure, and that had been fine and well to the sissy fox who was only concerned with the experience of being a hooker and the bills he was stuffing his pocket with. But now Ryan was taking care of him (papa wolf's gonna take good care of you kiddo) and that was so much better than just sucking and stroking and getting out into the cold night again. Flamey, in that brief moment as the wolf gulped down his cum and stroked down his thigh, loved Ryan.

The trucker sucked on Flamey into his afterglow. Certainly he noticed the semen even in so much goopy drool, but he held the seal and made Flamey squirm. Now not only did Flamey's toes curl, but his legs twisted inward with them. He whimpered, pushing uselessly against Ryan's tubby ass. It felt like he was making headway, but Ryan then pushed back; he was gyrating, frotting his ebony cock on the boy's fishnet-covered chest.

Immediately Flamey understood that he was being teased. There was no way Ryan couldn't know how sensitive a penis got after a climax and he was being played with, har-har kiddo, teased by an uncle or a grandpa, something along those lines. That, or his comfort was being ransomed until Flamey could make Ryan squirt too. So he doubled down on the wolf, gripping the cheeks with all his strength and stuffing his tongue as deep as it could go. He swabbed the flesh in Ryan's ass, slobbering with both indulgence and urgency, for Ryan was a hot piece even in such trying times.

Ryan gyrated harder and faster, mashing back into Flamey's snout and pulling forward almost like he might get off of the boy, introducing cruel hope to the equation. He kept the rhythm up, grinding and smearing himself on the boy. His cock was sandwiched between fishnet-dressed boymeat and his own generous gut, and the result was a fair masturbation of his chubby black penis. He breathed heavily around Flamey's cock, making his nostrils flare each time. He imagined the purples and reds the boy's dick was turning, and he smirked at the corners of his mouth.

Oh, god, I'm not gonna be able to touch my cock for a month after this, that almost fucking hurts and I gotta make him stop, it's gonna kill me, Flamey thought hysterically, eating Ryan like he had no other purpose in life. He tongued and smooched, groping and even clawing, making little ruts in the wolf's fat skin without bloodying him. He didn't know what else he could do but pleasure Ryan like he was already doing, and he did that as much and as well as he could.

But finally, the payoff came. He felt Ryan's anal walls clench down and his suckles let off in the same instant. Flamey's cock fell slack, flushed purple and fat with veins but slowly regaining its smoothness and normal hue as the seconds ticked by.

Ryan erupted across Flamey's breast, ruining the fishnet adding unmistakable stains to his own abused t-shirt. He grunted, arched his back, pushed his ass hard into Flamey's face. "Oh, shit," he murmured, grinning so wide it briefly became a grimace. "God, kid. Goddammit, you made me pop like a fuckin' water balloon. Good on you, kiddo, damn good on you..."

Flamey, almost smothered, withdrew his tongue from the wolf's puffed pucker. He gave Ryan a most delicate kiss there, then on the taint. His penis was sore, but in a weirdly pleasant way. His chest was sticky, but he knew and loved that feeling. He thought it a shame that mess wasn't up his ass or down his throat, but beggars could never be choosers in a truck stop parking lot.

Sluggishly, Ryan pulled himself off of Flamey and sat on the other end of the cot. He bumped his sweaty back on the cool metal wall and sighed. "Damn, kiddo," he said warmly, watching his own cock tiredly fall. "How'd my tonsils look to you?"

The fox erupted into a giggle as sudden and sharp as a hyena's yap. "Wh-what? Huh?"

"Well," Ryan folded his arms behind his head, letting body odor ooze from his armpits, "you were sure as hell digging deep enough. Surprised you didn't lick my fuckin' brain." He grinned and winked at the embarrassed fox. "Not that I'm saying I mind at all!"

Face covered in butt sweat, chest smeared with another man's spunk and his loins matted down with a carpet of drool, Flamey did not feel he was ready to go out into the cold night again. He sat up slowly and he shifted over to Ryan's side, sitting in the very cramped space with him without an ounce of claustrophobia. "Can I, um-? I mean, would it be all right if I chilled out-?"

"You can stay in here long as you want, kid," Ryan said, beginning to smile. He leaned over and smooched Flamey on the cheek. "By the way. If you're gonna be workin' this truck stop again, I'd like to know when..."