FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Paws, Slow down, Stop

I knew it was a bad idea to wear a kilt.

A fox in a dress? How cliché! I mean, what the fuck was I thinking?! I really wasn’t sure about having my tail so exposed, and I usually wear at least a polo. But hoo no! My friends, being my friends, were intent on getting me well and truly laid; or in a world o’ hurt, either or both were very possible the way they were talking me up and pulling my shorts down. You heard correctly! Very forthright and pretty effeminate even with the way they teased me about the same thing; but they also fancied themselves as knowing everything about every god damn thing!

“Brits huh? They wear girly shit! Hey Scott, you’re as close as we’re gonna’ get. What do you think about wearin’ a skirt to that thing on Friday?”

“Or better still, load ‘im with Mich ultra and stick ‘im in the sun! They love warm beer. Someone’ll finally tap that tail o’ yours Scotty boy!”

Haha! Bunch o’ smart asses! I tried to ignore it. I didn’t really want to go, but they teased me to the point where I was practically manhandled into this dark green tartan kilt, and paraded in front of the bathroom mirror.

I felt at that moment like turning round to my Dad and saying check this out. He’d put me in an all-fox campus to be away from bad influences. Fancy us vulpines being as crazy and fucked up as this, huh?! He’s so deluded. I still think he expects me to come home one semester with a vixen on my left paw, an engagement ribbon on her tail and a cub-bump up front! Dream on, old man!

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I hate the teasing and the way my flatmates find ever more ingenious ways to make me horny. I’m not fuckin’ with ya’! They’ll actually parade around barefurred when they know I’m in, leave sexed scent marks across my bedroom door and pin polaroids of themselves, tail-high on the fridge. I guess it’s their coping mechanism. It’s never really bothered me, although I suppose it should. I don’t like to make a fuss, and I guess that’s why my father sent me here, to get my slyness back at the school of hard cocks!

_ _

Well anyway, back to my skimpy outfit, something which I would no doubt later regret; or not, I didn’t know. Emotional blackmail aside, I kinda liked the pleated look and I can safely say it made me feel more of a fox wearing something so outwardly come-hither!

Come Friday I was thankful for that cool air on my tail, across my backside and down onto my bare footpaws. It was fuckin’ bliss! Must’ve been ninety-five in the shade that day, and there was everyone else in shirts and union jack shorts with red, white and blue ribbons wrapped around their tails. I was the only one there in hardly anything at all. If I’d wanted to make an impression in my freshman year, I sure as hell had just made it! Kal dropped me off on his way to class, and I was sure to get out the car carefully. I wasn’t gonna wear anything underneath; and that wasn’t because I’m a slut. S’just that I like people to know me, my scent without a cover; I’ve always thought it made for the best introduction.

“That’s a uh… quite a get-up, young fox!” Professor Calan was the first to actually open his mouth about my choice of attire, “just uh…. just keep yourself to yourself, OK?”

And there was I thinking he was a relatively liberal vulp. I turned noses and eyes as I padded around, the bustling get-together set out all rather neatly on the enclosed grass area sandwiched between the arts and the science blocks. It was some kind of city-twinning committee coming to chat to faculty and students; but I was just interested in hovering by the drinks table, and kinda wishing I was elsewhere. I’d heard that there were gonna’ be connections to make, and being in my first year, I thought it best I make as many friends in the right places as possible.

Besides, I really wanted to visit England some day. I mean, who can resist that accent?! Makes me shiver from tail to ears just to think about it. Sure their royal family isn’t all that, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to just be around some real English tail. I guess you could call me an aural whore! Hearing it, smelling that exotic European scent, thinking about their fuckin’ cool, uninhibited fashion; screw boxer shorts and those god damn y-fronts that squeeze your tail in and halt your scent like your some sheath-less, rickety old fuck.

I wanted to see it and smell it all, free my tail in their unique blend of vulpinity and society; and I was desperate to get my paws on something that would make me feel like a dirty, feral little fox that… that… well I guess that was my dream. Couldn’t deny that that was what I wanted; control, possession and love. I guess I felt that I didn’t deserve any of it. I needed someone to bring me out of my shell, as opposed to standing under the rainbow umbrellas and altered scents of a closeted vulpic community.

So there I am, my first drink still in paw – it was empty by now – and too nervous to mingle. So nervous in fact, that with my tail turned to the table, I accidentally knocked over a couple of wine glasses. Fuck, I felt so awkward.

Someone shoot me now! It was all that was in my head, spliced only by the anger at the sarcastic looks I was getting from the faculty. I swore, if I heard tail lifter just once I was gonna make a bolt for it. Maybe I’m too judgmental; just felt so left out, ya’ know?!

Still with absolutely fuck all courage to turn round and ask for a top up – and at this point I was regretting turning down the offer of being tanked up with cheap beer, ready to overflow – I just sighed and started feeling sorry for myself. Tail down between me and my paws fidgeting and twizzling the ribbons with which I had festooned my special collar.

Don’t know why I fuckin’ bother! I had this tendency to mutter to myself; and I say had cos’ what happened next, blew my mind!

“You ever been?”

I swear to you, hearing that single phrase made me hard. My train of thought jumped down my own throat, and I swallowed or rather gulped as I turned; and there was this handsome twenty-something Doberman stood smiling at me. He was wearing these real nifty, long navy shorts and a tight sleeveless top that magnified all that rippling black-furred muscle. Must’ve been six foot three and more! Nothin’ like lookin’ up into two pure hazel brown eyes and feeling so beautifully small.

“I… I… uh…” That’s all I could conjure up; slick huh?!

“Scotland? I… I meant have you ever visited?” He was pointing at my kilt, and I felt my muzzle go bright red.

It was the smoothest, deepest British accent I’d ever heard; completely region-less and pure hot diction action!

“Um… I… no, I’ve never been.” The glass in my paw is now drenched in sweat, gripped like I’m gonna fuckin’ die and my tail… well, it shot upward, clouting someone behind me in a blurry swathe of scented fox fur. At least my body knew what it wanted. I’m such a sucker for a tall, dark dog from mysterious old England.

“I’m Klaus” And out came that broad, black and truffle paw, accompanied by another smile.

“Uh… Scott. Or Scotty which… whichever. I’m good.” I nervously returned the pawshake, probably far too limply but I was still trying to wire my jaw shut and pick myself up from the floor; he was so gorgeous!

“S’good to meet ya’ mate!”

So, cue the awkwardness! I’m so taken aback by him, I can hardly stop my hard-on from tenting my kilt let alone make small talk. He turned side-on to me, a beautiful profile that just shone in the summer sun. He took a sip from his drink and sighed. I think I probably pretended to do the same and felt like such an idiot.

“You keep yourself to yourself huh?”

“Um… well, I guess” I felt my ears fold back as I admitted something I shouldn’t. Stupid stupid stupid!

“That’s a pity. But hey, each to their own I say.” He turned and smiled at me, like an understanding parent smiling to a nervous cub.

I wished the earth would open up at that very moment and swallow me. I screw things up so many times. There he was looking at me, and I could read his mind. I’m not the every-fox that guys like that want, paws damn it!

“What you drinkin’? I was just gonna’ get a refill.” He shook his empty at me and I blushed again. It was like every single word that came from that handsome muzzle was hot buttered and came with a side of fuck me hard!

“Uh… cherry soda please” Fuck I was like a goddamn cub! I’d melted like the ice cubes in my previous drink, and found myself stuck to the spot. I’d sweated through my footpaw pads so much, I had grass clippings and soil stuck to them all afternoon long.

Klaus was back a moment of two later, sidling his way through the crowd and handing me a full glass, the fizziness sprinkling across my wrist.

“Cherry pop huh?!” He nudged me; and I don’t know whether it was just because my tail was already head over paws for this hunk of dog, but my brain just froze.

Duh! A blank look is all he got, and I was just kickin’ myself.

“Cherry? You know wh… never mind!” The Doberman shook his head with a giggle. My being so slow on the uptake was not putting me in the best of lights. In my defense, I had never done this kinda thing before, so I guess the virgin jokes were justified, not that he was to know that.

“What do you make of the designs?” He pointed out towards the main tent where little, ultra-modern building models were on display.

“They’re really neat. I can’t imagine what it took to come up with them.” I sipped my drink to stifle myself. I could feel my muzzle heat up in shyness. Every time I heard him, or had a nose full of that delicious cologne, it made me tingle. It was this business casual fragrance caught in every inch of his fur, across those strong padded paws and oh fuck, that nubby little tail! I had a job to resist panting after it as he padded away to get our drinks; a delicious knop of bi-colored furred flesh, ticking back and forth and just the perfect apex to that tight ass!

“Well that’s what these are for.” Klaus put out his paws again, withdrawing only to pat the left pocket of his shorts; there were some kind of pens in there or somethin’.

“So… they’re your designs? That’s so awesome!” I remember my eyes just lingering at his, my head tilted like a smitten schoolcub.

“I’m… I’m pretty handy with the tools God gave me!”

His voice had lowered as he said it and, as I was mid-sip on my drink, I inhaled instead of swallowed, spluttering a shower of half-drunk soda all over his shirt.

“Oh fuck… I am so sorry. I… oh fuck!”

But he just smiled, dabbing at his shirt as I scrambled to get him some cloth or some shit. I felt so fuckin’ stupid!

“Scotty, mate. Relax! It’s absolutely fine.”

“I’m real sorry.”

Wow, I just summed up what I was in that instant; sorry! A sorry-ass excuse of a fox who was about to make a run for it. I just get demoralized real fast, and in the end I was on the brink of tears. I couldn’t verbalize how desperately I wanted someone like Klaus.

And the look on his muzzle as I made my fumbled excuses to leave was just heartbreaking. I disappointed him and myself; but as I padded home to face my flat mates, it was just another notch on the wall of desperation, a missed opportunity and a sure-fire paw-book on How not to get laid.

That’s where I thought it would end. A less than wonderful intro, an awkward to and fro, and just echoes of his voice and scent laying on my conscience.

Sometimes, I love being wrong!

Now, I don’t usually parade around like I did at that garden party thing. I don’t wear rainbows in my fur or around my tail or any shit like that. I am and never was a very sporty fox either, as much as my Dad wanted me to be. To be honest, I’ve got as much chance playing soccer professionally for… oh I dunno, whoever England’s main team is, than flying to the moon. What was it now?! Mancaster or Lester United? I don’t know!

I stick to computers and that’s that. Not really much of anything exciting really, and it was through my college work that I was trying desperately to forget about Klaus; but every time I watched BBC America, it reminded me of him. And then my brain wanted to think of some clever chat up line that didn’t make me come across as some ignorant hick fox! And after I was done with that, my body wanted me to paw-off like it was goin’ outta’ style!

That voice, the smell of his fur, the thought of him naked and in my room showing me how they do it on the Discovery Channel! It was all too much to just lie there on my bed and not clamp my teeth over my own tail to stifle my moans as I came everywhere.

I was lucky enough to cross paths with him again later that month, although it wasn’t exactly in the way I’d planned. In fact, I’m so glad we did cos’ otherwise I think those douchebags would’ve put me in the ER.

I was making my way down to the IT block and, as usual, I was super early. To get there, I have to go through the arts block down a long corridor, dotted on both sides with lecture halls; and therein lay the problem! My heart sank as I entered the hallway, cos’ at the very end was a group of scrawny lookin’ vulps just hangin’ about. There was a hint of weed on the air too; so, head down and quick pace, I padded my way towards them, both paws on the straps of my rucksack and eyes straight ahead.

“Yo check it out! Starfox is off to play with his joystick again!” There was a few nudged shoulders, and the group evolved out of their corner and came right at me, smirking and laughing, coughing their way through the fug of skunk, “why dontcha’ play with my joystick, red boy!”

“ Cos’ the controls are stuck on single player, and I’m not touching any of your boost buttons!”

Wow, how fuckin’ idiotic am I?! I was really askin’ for it now! And don’t ask me where that sudden bout of bravery came from, cos’ I have no idea. There was a snarl on the muzzle of my cubbish questioner, before he lunged for me and picked me up by my collar; and now the others were pulling at my bag, working it off my shoulders and throwing it against the wall.

“You’re a fuckin’ smart tail, huh?! Got a fucking big muzzle on ya’ too! Ripe for swallowing cock I should think, dirty faggot!”

This was a problem, in no small part because I was alone and classes were still in; and now they were kicking my rucksack until it split whilst joystick-boy held me up against the wall. They’d found what they suspected all along; my magazines.

“Hey! What the bloody hell do you think you’re doing!?” That voice, that singularly perfect voice came out of nowhere to ride into the melee and save me; it was Klaus!

“Mess it up, kick ‘em around.” It’s all I heard, along with the rustle of paper pages being disturbed and roundly distributed across the hallway floor; and then my footpaws contacted the floor once again, before the cannabis breath of my captor was skulking off towards the exit. They’d taken one look at this hulk of canine dashing down the corridor at them and shat themselves!

But Klaus wasn’t done. He ran past me and out to the doors where he yelled at the top of his voice; oh God, he was sexy even when he was angry!

“You better run, bloody hooligans! Fucking ridiculous!”

He turned and padded back to me. I think I was scrambling around on the floor, gathering the contents of my bag back into… well, what was left of it anyway!

“Oh my gosh, Scotty, are you OK? Can I help you with any of this?” He’d squatted down, rushing those big paws across the fanned papers, and gathering in my pens that had behaved as though a grenade had gone off.

“You… you remember my name?” I was happier than ever just to hear that he hadn’t forgotten me.

“Well sure I do. I’m just happy I was able to help you out.”

Oh fuck, there it goes again! That lyrical accent ticked my tail northward, and my already tender footpaws felt weak. I blushed again, so red as to match the rest of me. Being here with him, even in this moment of total embarrassment, was heavenly. By now classes on both sides of the corridor were emptying and I was left to withstand the jibes of the guys and the giggles of the girls; I guessed it was seeing the couple of editions of Male Tail and Sheath2Sheath lain on the carpet that got everyone so interested. Takin’ a fuckin’ picture would’ve lasted longer!

My paw hurriedly went for them to stop the pain, and it was met by Klaus who was doing the exact same.

“Sorry I… please.” He allowed me to gather them in, his own muzzle tinting pink as we both shied from one another.

“I… I’m real grateful for you steppin’ in, Klaus. I… I don’t know how to repay you.” I clutched a hold of my torn rucksack, ears pinning back in shyness as I… oh man, I just couldn’t look at him! If I did, I’d melt all over again. It was only then that I felt and smelled his paw sooth under my jaw and tilt my head upwards.

“You’re most welcome my dear fox. And you’re sure you’re alright?”

I remembered looking up into those eyes and just whimpering an upward inflected yes, like my dreams had just come true. I did manage to shake myself out of whatever position I had fantasized about him having me in, just enough to ask him something before he was out of earshot.

“Would you like to come over to my place for a while? I mean like, just to chill or somethin’?”

The bustle of the crowd had long gone and it was just him, me and that answer.

“I’d like that. I’d like that a lot”

Fuckin’ score! I was so fuckin’ stoked to hear him say that. I was doing cartwheels in my head, and in my crotch too. The smile he adorned those wonderful words with was out of this world. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy and helpless all at once. There was nothing more I wanted to do than have the time with him that afternoon to find out more about the real Klaus; and I’d even have some inspirational thoughts to keep me going all day long with what he came out with next.

“I’m at the gym ‘til four, but I’d love to get together. About six?”

“Great! Sex is perf… I mean, six! Six is cool!” Man I can be such a fox sometimes! “Fulvus Building. You… you can just press the buzzer for number five.”

If I was done tripping over my own tongue, my body zeroed-in on that single wonderful word; gym! An English guy who was tall, dark and handsome; and he loved working up a sweat? It was too good to be true. Klaus smiled slyly at my Freudian slip and slunk away with a wagging tail, leaving me with a conveniently placed rucksack if you know what I mean!

Couldn’t think straight for the rest of the day, not that that I’m that way inclined any other time. Even if I couldn’t get inside his pants, I wanted the chance to at least be close to him, smell the wild freedom of something other than goddamn fox tail!

My prayers for the afternoon?

Water shortage.

Sudden allergy to water.

Plumbing problem.

Call me a sly, underpawed little slut, but there was something about a male in the heat of exertion that drove me nuts. It had always made me present my rump for inspection like no other. I think I wrote an early letter to Santa that day. Paws above, please send me an unshowered hunk of English doberman!