FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The warbling drone of cicadas echoed through the quiet streets of the summer suburbs, the sound of it seeming as if it were the song of the shimmering heat rising from the blacktop streets. Rows of copypasted houses stood behind powerwashed sidewalks, green plastic municipal trash bins standing guard before each one. It was the late afternoon, and the heat of the day was at its peak before the soothing cool of twilight.

Tomorrow was trash day, and as the hours of the day ticked by a husband from each house would make the pilgrimage down their respective driveway, bulging black plastic bag in hand, and add it to the pile of refuse already stuffing their trashcan. Occasionally, the rumbling growl of treaded plastic wheels on concrete would signal someone setting out their bin a little late, the clap of the heavy hinged lid slamming shut echoing off the pastel painted homes.

As the sun's glow began to grow orange as it dipped lower in the sky, a lone figure jogged out from her garage. A bright pink sweatband snugged just below her black-fuzzed ears, her modest breasts contained in a black sports bra beneath a light, revealing crop top, white fur showing at her exposed belly. Keeping up a half-run, she made her way in a circuit around the neighborhood, toned legs working, firm rear bouncing inside a tight pair of nearly legless shorts with a hole cut in them for her long, hairless tail. Her bright running shoes clopped lightly against the sidewalk, sweat dripping off her pink nose as her pointed muzzle parted, panting breaths passing through her lips.

At each house she passed, a male face would turn towards the window, the very same husbands as before sneaking glances at her body. Eyes hungrily staring at her firm form, taking in the bare fur of her midriff, the cleavage peeking from her low neckline, they would wish they had taken the trash out a little later, just to get a closer look. Yet in all their staring, none of them noticed their own lustful expressions mirrored on her own face. In the same way they were enraptured by the swell of her breasts and curve of her ass, her own gaze couldn't help but stray toward the fat bags of trash peeking out from the overloaded bins, the lids left down or unable to fully close over all the garbage stuffed inside. Each time she passed one as she jogged down the sidewalk, she interrupted the regular rhythm of her breathing to take a deep sniff through her twitching pink nose, letting out a whimper as her body flushed warm from the putrid scent of trash fermenting on a hot summer day.

Oblivious to this, none of the oglers thought to question why they only ever saw her running on trash day. They didn't look for the slight stain at the crotch of her shorts, or the trickle of juices running down the inside of her thigh. They didn't know just how good a chance they stood, if they would have only taken out the trash in time to meet her and offer her some.

As she came around her block and turned back onto her own street, she began to slow her pace, relaxing into a walk as she came within sight of her house. Breathing hard, her gaze was unfocused as she fantasized, pausing for a brief rest beside her neighbor's garbage bin. Standing still as she was, the rotting scents of it were stronger than the other trash fumes she'd sniffed in passing, and soon she felt lightheaded, turning towards the open bin to get a better whiff of it. She looked down at the stuffed bags of refuse, supporting herself with two hands on the plastic rim.

An idea occurred to her, and she felt a sudden rush of excitement and lust. Glancing down the street in both directions, she saw no one. Looking towards her neighbor's house, she saw no lights on, no car in the driveway. Limbs trembling slightly, she slowly reached in, paw gripping at the top plastic bag, feeling the filth within...

Caressing the soft garbage through the thin layer, she began to rub her thighs together, biting her lip in indecision. There was nothing she wanted more than to take it and rip it open, dump it over her body and stuff it into her clothes. Sometimes she played with her own garbage, but she knew it just wasn't the same as having someone else's. No one was looking... She could just take it home. No one would know, and it wouldn't be like stealing, would it? It was just trash. So, after a moment's pause, she slowly started to pull the bag out of the bin, feeling its weight and relishing the idea of what it might contain.

The door of her neighbor's house swung open, and she snatched her hand away in startlement as she tried to feign innocent nonchalance. Running a hand through his bedraggled mane, a large male lion stepped out onto the front patio, frowning slightly as he looked across his yard at her. Apparently, he'd stayed home from work today, not to mention parked in the garage.

"Everything alright Pamela?" he asked, a slight tone of concern in his accented voice. He looked her up and down, not immune to the same hunger as the other men in the neighborhood, but good-hearted enough to put it aside when his neighbor seemed in distress. One large paw held the screen door open as he stood, a flickering television screen visible through the doorway.

Fighting down a blush, Pamela nodded quickly, waving a hand in a sharp dismissal. "Fine, Daud," she said, taking a step away from the trash can. "Just taking a breather after my run, that's all... needed to lean on something." He must've seen her bent over the bin, trembling and looking flushed. Despite her best attempt at self control, her eyes flicked back to the garbage, frustration mixing with her lust in the pit of her stomach. So close...

Narrowing his golden eyes slightly, the lion glanced from Pamela to the trash, the trash to Pamela, then back again. A slight smirk curved his naturally self-satisfied feline face. Though he couldn't help it, it looked completely condescending.

"You can take it, if you want," he said, speaking as softly as he could to be heard across the ten feet of lawn between them. "Really, I don't care. No judgment."

Feeling her face go hot beneath her fur, Pamela fumed, her eyes going wide in shock, outrage, and anxiety. Her mouth opened, but for a moment, no words came out. Finally, she snapped at him, barely managing to keep her voice low, "What's THAT supposed to mean? Oh, just cause I'm an opossum I have to want your trash, is that it? I can't just stand next to it for two seconds without you getting some sick speciesist idea in your head!?"

Despite the anger in her voice, she couldn't keep her blush from showing, turning her white fur a light pink and darkening the shade of her nose. Her breasts jiggled as she stomped her foot in overacted anger, and though the smile disappeared from Daud's face, it was clear he wasn't convinced.

"No, sorry, sorry," he said soothingly. "Just thought I'd put it out there in case, I wouldn't dare to presume. Only pointing out that it's trash and free for the taking. Maybe you want it for composting or something, doesn't matter to me." He shrugged as only a cat can, with complete and convincing nonchalance, smooth and utterly uncaring. "Didn't mean anything by it."

Huffing in embarrassment and anger, Pamela looked away, stomping back to her house without another word. The lion watched her retreat, fixedly observing her rear as her stiff steps exaggerated its bouncing, her naked tail flicking angrily from side to side until she slammed her garage door down, cutting her body off from his view. Reaching down to finger his wedding ring, he rumbled in mild discontent, then went back inside his house and shut the door behind him.

Many hours later, when the sun had long set and darkness stretched out beyond the reach of the widely spaced streetlights, the back door of Pamela's house quietly, slowly swung open. Something pale with a long pink tail scurried out on all fours, silently and quickly moving along the fence dividing Daud's property with hers.

The lions next door both slept peacefully, soft fuzzy muffs covering their ears to drown out each other's growling snores. As such, they did not hear the rumbling rattle of plastic wheels as their garbage bin was rolled down the sidewalk. Shortly after, the sound cut off suddenly as the garbage can was pulled onto the soft grass of Pamela's lawn. Minutes passed, then the rattling briefly returned, sounding hollower as the much lighter bin was replaced in front of the lions' home. No one saw. No one noticed.

Yet when Pamela shut her back door behind her, her chest was heaving with sharp, shallow breaths, heart thudding from anxiety and arousal. Completely naked, her body shuddered, breasts wet with the dew that had been on the grass when she'd crawled along the ground. Her back hallway was piled with black bags of garbage, and she still felt the flush of arousal that had filled her when she'd held each bag in her arms as she'd hastily shoveled them out of the can and into her house.

Panting, she grabbed up two bags, hurrying up the stairs to her bathroom, the bulging black plastic bumping against the walls of the stairwell as she maneuvered the trash safely to her bathtub.

Her toned thighs trembled from the thrill of adrenaline and arousal as she tore the plastic open with her teeth, tasting the first bitter tang of filth on her lips. Dumping one of the bags into her tub, she searched through its contents with greedy eyes, lustily taking in the coffee grinds, old cold food, used paper towels, greasy plastic, and other assorted refuse. Then, the smell reached her sensitive nose, and a light squirt of clear juices sprayed from her slit onto her bathroom tiles as she suddenly felt a powerful heat run through her. The reeking melange of odors filled the little room, and she clumsily closed the bathroom door to better contain it, eagerly tearing open the second bag to further fill her tub.

Upending it, she tossed the empty plastic aside, kneeling against the cool porcelain and leaning over the glistening garbage. Warmth rose from it, the insulated heat of the summer day making it almost body temperature even after the sun had been down for hours. A shiver ran down Pamela's spine, her tail going stiff and straight as she moaned. She felt like she was melting as all concerns and thoughts disappeared from her mind. Only her need remained, the blissful ecstasy of arousal about to be satiated.

Crawling into her tub, she took deep breaths through her nose as her face came close to the greasy trash, almost snorting in her effort to take in as much of the stink as possible. Rotting food and assorted messes made a musky, sharp odor, each inhalation bringing fresh and exciting foulness through her nostrils. Pressing her face into the soft mess, she squeaked in happiness, burrowing her muzzle into the warmth.

Huffing the fumes of the garbage, she dazedly dug her hands into the pile she'd made, picking up random refuse and smearing it over her chest, rubbing her breasts with a handful of lukewarm spaghetti and paper wrappers with a bit of chocolate still on them. A used tissue clung to her hard nipple, and the sensation of it sticking there filled her with tingling pleasure, the disgust transmuted into ecstasy. Slowly, she lowered her torso down into the trash, whimpering as she felt her fur become matted with warm filth. Trickling wetness dripped down her slit, beading at the tip of her large, hard clit, then dribbling down into the trash to mix with the other various fluids.

Rubbing her chest back and forth through the garbage, she felt her breasts push against assorted substances, a grimy old dishtowel and greasy tinfoil rubbing against her, the light pain of occasional hard or sharp things scraping across her skin feeling just as sweet as all the rest. Almost choking, eyes watering from the powerful smells of the sun-ripened garbage, Pamela opened her mouth and tasted some of it. Not even able to see what she licked, she gagged at the taste of bitterness, of rot and dank. Body shuddering, she tasted again, whimpering as she lapped some of whatever it was into her mouth, swallowing it. It felt hot all the way down her throat, and the gagging redoubled as she forced it down. Her pussy felt like it was burning from how hot she felt, her mind barely able to form a coherent thought, only able to focus on the filth.

Rolling onto her back, she looked down at herself as she lay on a warm bed of garbage. stains of various colors coating her fur, the tissue still stuck to the tip of her breast, a paper towel soaked with something black conforming to the shape of her navel. Her stomach fluttered, starting to reject what she'd swallowed. The sensation of nausea only added to the experience, and she started to shovel trash over herself, exploring the contents of her treasure as she covered her body with it, wriggling into the filth. Old yogurt smeared across her thighs, an overripe banana burst into soft mush between her asscheeks, and an earwax covered q-tip stuck teasingly to her crotch, dangling against her twitching clit.

"Ohhh fuck," Pamela groaned, feeling utterly revolting, completely aware of every bit of filth stuck to her body. The sensation of dirtiness filled her up from her trash-juice stained lips to the tip of her tail, a hot happy blush on her face as she felt her stomach churn. Her fingers explored her treasure of trash, staying away from her slit to find greater pleasures in the sensation of new garbage in her hands, on her body. She felt the climax approaching, relishing the buildup of nausea as much as the increasing heat and electricity of her quivering cunt.

Then, before the moment arrived, her questing fingers found something truly special. Beneath a bed of used tissues, mixed with a soggy tampon and a used pregnancy test, the soft slickness of stretchy latex brushed against her fingers. Eyes opening in surprise and delight, she searched more, blindly moving her hand as she kept her gaze locked on the bathroom ceiling, breath coming in quick pants and moans of excitement. Finally, she found all there was to find, and lifted before her face three used condoms, heavy with gooey semen.

"Fucking jackpot, holy shit, holy shit holy shit..." Pamela rubbed the soft latex sacs against her face, feeling the leftover lubricant coat her fur, as well as some of Daud's wife's juices as well. Popping one into her mouth, she held it on her tongue, sucking it slightly without breaking it open. The gorge rose in her throat, and she kept it down with a bare effort of will, not ready to finish just yet. Not while she had such a delight as this to enjoy.

Keeping one used condom primed between her teeth, she tongued the opening of it, tasting what chalky, salty cum there was there to taste. With her other hand, she reached down, spreading her grimy thighs and holding apart her soaking pussy lips, whimpering in her throat at the stimulation of even this little touch. It made her shake, but she kept enough control to do what she so desperately wanted.

Tearing the two condoms with her nails, she felt the semen spill over her red, aroused labia, trickling warm over her clit and lips. Moaning in a long, low animal sound, she shoved the torn condoms into her pussy, fingering herself roughly and deeply as she pushed them into herself. As she did, she thought about what diseases her neighbor might have, about how disgusting she found cum, about how disgusting she found him and his attitude toward her species. It turned her on more than she could bear. Saliva flooded her mouth as her body prepared to vomit, and she broke the condom in her teeth, tasting the salty, revolting flavor of semen.

Right before her body surpassed its final thresholds, she had a final, utterly lovely thought. The condoms might not even be filled with Daud's cum. Maybe his wife had had someone else fill these up. It could be anybody's cum. Three different people's cum, even.

Holding that idea in her mind with sudden beatific conviction, her back arched, and she swallowed down the broken condom latex and all as she pressed her fingertips hard against her g-spot. The white noise of pure dopamine blanked out her mind as her trembling thighs were coated in piss and pussy juice, everything coming out of her at once. Electric pleasure ran circuits through her insides, her pussy a lightning rod of pure ecstasy, clenching and quivering around her fingers, clit hard and throbbing, nipples hot and hard. She was coated in trash, in filth, in garbage. Her fur was matted and greasy and there was not an inch of her that felt clean or beautiful.

Still cumming, she vomited, spilling bile and some unidentifiable lump of food down her chin and onto her cleavage and throat, cum mixed with it all from the condom she'd just swallowed. It was hotter than the rest of the garbage as it flowed down and soaked in with the mess, chunks of it sticking to her fur while the liquid portion of it made her even filthier. Her legs were soaked with her own squirting piss, wet toes curled with a used coffee filter and dark grinds clasped between them. The air was filled with the scents of sex, of urine and vomit, and of the ever present and potent filth.

Finally, after a long minute, Pamela relaxed. The contented warmth of afterglow filled her, making her feel perfectly comfortable lying in her tub among a warm mess of her own bodily fluids and her neighbor's trash. Her pussy felt wonderfully sore from the abuse she'd put it through during her orgasm, her fingers having gone beyond her conscious control. Slowly, her heartbeat began to level out from the spike of climax, slowly slanting down into a calmer rhythm.

She wasn't done, of course. This was only the first step of her filthiness, having added her own disgusting garnish atop what her neighbor had so generously offered. Not until the filth was in her every hole, until she felt so soaked with trash that she felt like a piece of it herself, only then would she be able to cum and not desire more. But that would take hours. All night, she hoped.

Smiling, she writhed and settled herself better among the wet, warm refuse, slowly starting to finger herself again.

Months later, on another garbage day, a lone opossum in a bright pink sweatband jogged out from her garage. Like the day she'd bathed in garbage, she wore the same teasing outfit, shorts that hugged her rear, a sports bra that exposed her cleavage, and a crop top over that that left her belly bare.

Unlike that day however, her belly was not flat, with perfectly toned abs sloping towards her pubic mound. As of late, it had grown swollen and round, a noticeable bump adding another curve to her already shapely figure.

The husbands of the neighborhood still watched her as she past, just as interested as before, if not moreso. Only now, instead of the same old hungry thoughts, they felt a faint envy at whoever had finally gotten to what they so guiltily wanted.

Inhaling the fumes of trash as she jogged past each loaded green bin, Pamela smiled with every step, a constant warmth in her belly and slit while she ran. Even she didn't know whose baby she carried, and that made being pregnant such a daily turn on that it was all she could do not to masturbate every time she was out of public view.

Still, she found the time to run on trash day, and had even snuck a few more baths in the days since that first time. Daud had moved out of his wife's house, unable to bear to live with her after having caught her cheating two months back. Ever since then, there had been a fresh crop of used condoms with every week's garbage.

Feeling her breasts bounce, her full belly firm beneath her stomach muscles, Pamela breathed the ripe smell of suburban garbage and stretched her legs in a run beneath the perfect autumn sun.

There was nothing in the world that could have made her more happy than she was.