FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"On my way back. Got something for you. See you soon~"

_ _

Ever since receiving the text from Ryan about half an hour ago, I'd been unable to keep myself from alternating between sitting down in front of my computer, pacing around the living room, and searching needlessly through the refrigerator in the kitchen, just to give myself something to do. I wanted to be on my feet when he arrived so that I could go right up and greet him. It had been two weeks since we'd last seen each other, with him gone on some tournament of sorts for the regional small-name football teams. "Regional" meaning within a hundred-mile radius, with our city right at the edge of that radius from the stadium itself, so he had had to head out and stay in a hotel with the rest of the team.

Yet again I looked up over the refrigerator door at the entrance of the apartment, keeping my little ears perked for any sign of heavy footsteps outside. He'd be tired, and worn out, and glad to be back, and probably a little disappointed, too: I'd mostly kept up with the bracket changes on the TV channel he'd directed me to before he left, but since I hardly knew anything about the sport itself I just paid attention to what _he_was doing. Of the seven in the region our team had made it to the fifth round, though still had to stay for the rest of the tournament and whatever followed.

Ryan had, of course, kept me updated every day with the new happenings and occurrences, and also sent a picture every morning with a progress update on... well, a certain something of his. This was also part of why I so eagerly awaited him coming through the door. I wanted to see that progress up close, for myself.

"Day 16 of not showering," had been the message attached to the last progress picture. That picture showed his paw squeezing around the base of his sheath, the lip crusted with sticky yellowish-white brimming around the warm reddish-pink of his tip, glistening as though dipped in oil. "Been taking special care not to mess things up for you down here. There's only one way I like to clean my sheath out, and it's via skillfully applied otter tongue. ;)"

It had become a bit of a ritual and bonding experience between the two of us, ever since our first move-in day when he had just _happened_to be a little grimy. I'd been reluctant at first and unsure, but he had pushed me into it and reassured me and I found out that... well, that I _loved_it. Nearly every day for a week in the time between when I came home from work and he did, I'd look up pictures and videos related to the subject, in the process only further developing my interest and appreciation for the mess. Then he'd come home and I'd transfer my attention to his sheath instead, digging my tongue deep and suckling against the warm, wet flesh, wanting the rich, sharp stink to cling to my nose and the back of my throat, but those daily ministrations never allowed anything to develop.

Then he left for a weekend to visit his brother, came back, and in those two days had already formed a noticeable buildup, soft and moist and strong. That time he hadn't needed to urge or coax me on. I gladly, eagerly cleaned it off, curling it up on my tongue, pressing it between my lips, and swallowing it down, and with that big predator's grin on his face he pulled me up to him and kissed me deeply with his tongue wrapping around mine, as if wanting to taste himself as well.

So lost in my thoughts as well as using the shield of the refrigerator door to hide me rubbing at my sudden erection through my pants in case he did walk through the front door, I almost didn't notice when the wolf actually did. It was the sound of it closing that caught my attention, and then my boyfriend instincts overtook anything else: I skirted around the fridge, tossed the door shut, and ambled up to him, throwing my arms around his shoulder and drawing him into a hug nearly before his bag had hit the floor.

"My God, Cole," he breathed, returning the hug. "You're like a goddamn dog missing his owner."

"Kind of right," I rumbled back into his shoulder. After two weeks apart his natural scent was the most inviting aroma in the world to me. "But you're the dog here."

He scoffed and ran his paws down my sides, briefly leaning out of the hug. I reflexively shivered beneath his touch, his blunted claws - the league he played for required all players keep them like that - drawing lines in my fur through my shirt. "You smell enough like dog. Well, wolf."

"Not after two weeks of you gone, I... ooh..." Those large paws of his wandered down to the small of my back, lifting up under my shirt to rub at the base of my tail. The sensation made me lean forward against his body, my legs suddenly shaking. "I don't..."

"You'd be surprised, actually. I thought I'd come back to find the apartment smelling entirely of otter, but no. It still smells like... us." In that moment he smiled down at me, showing his warm, appreciative boyfriend's smile. One of the ones that had made me fall so deeply in love with him so early on. Another smile that had helped that was of course the same bright, wide, hungry grin, like when he had clamped my muzzle shut in one paw and pushed up under my tail on a bench in a public park... "Although. I could _make_you smell like wolf."

I chuckled and lifted up on my tiptoes, putting my muzzle almost even with his. I kept one paw on his hip and placed the other against his chest. "Oh, is that what you got me? A full bladder? A thorough marking?"

"God." He scoffed again and slid past me into the kitchen. "I thought I could feel something when you hugged me."

I turned to watch him, then started following when he continued through into the living room. "I missed you! I've been going two weeks without my daily dose of wolf."

He glanced over his shoulder at me, still wearing that smile. "I know, hon. I missed you too. You were pretty close about the thing I got you, though."

"Yeah? What was it?"

He motioned to the couch in front of him. Immediately I thought about when we had first gotten that couch in place there... "Sit down and close your eyes."

Of course I obeyed. Sometimes it was fun to go against his orders, to coax a little bit of extra force out of him... in the past he had gotten out my collar and leash and wrapped it tightly around his paw, yanking my head back and hardly giving me space to breathe while he pounded me back into my place underneath him. Over time Ryan had figured out how to consistently squeeze hands-free orgasms out of me, easier in that position.

As I said, sometimes it was fun. I hadn't seen him for two weeks and was already bursting with eagerness and anticipation, so this time I just obeyed without a second thought. The soft cushion sank beneath my weight; after looking up at him, each of us wearing a smile, I straightened up, rested my paws on my knees, and closed my eyes, fully aware of the twitching visible in the front of my own pants. Part of me wondered if he would pad back over to his bag and actually get something out from there, but as I kept my ears perked and forward I found out... well, that my expectation and hope were right.

There was the soft rustle of him lifting his shirt up, then the jingle of his belt... and then the pop and zip of his pants fly, followed by more rustling as he dropped them partially down his thighs. Instinctively I leaned in, whiskers forward, and licked my lips again; above and ahead of me the wolf breathed a soft sigh - I squeezed my eyes more firmly shut and let my mouth hang open, half-expecting a sudden stream of hot warmth to empty out across my muzzle and shoulders, though another part of me knew he wouldn't do that after how much we had spent on this damn couch - and I heard him scratch at his pubic fur.

I could smell it before I could see it. The same bright, sharp, acrid odor that I had come so familiar with over the months, chiseled to a sour, bitter point from the two weeks without a shower. Still it made my nose and muzzle wrinkle, a natural reflex, and tickled at the back of my throat to breathe too deeply of it, but at the same time it just tightened my pants further and started my mouth watering.

I wanted to open my eyes, to look forward and see just what he had built up for me, but before I could Ryan's paw settled on the back of my head, his fingers pressed into my fur, and he pulled me forward, right into the unkempt and untrimmed bush of thicker fur there. Those two weeks without a shower, spent playing football out in the sun, had definitely taken their toll on him: even just to my nose the fur felt stringy and greasy, as though dipped in warm musky oil. I nuzzled in and breathed his powerful scent in, strongly masculine and even more so canid. Beneath that familiar scent still bubbled the sting of uncleanliness, up and to my left; I nosed in through his fur, feeling it pull along my lips and whiskers, and touched my nose to the side of his sheath.

"Do you like your gift?" he asked, a faint chuckle on his voice.

"Mhmm..."

"Open your eyes."

Didn't have to tell me twice. I did so and almost instantly found the tip of his sheath, seeming to emanate a thick, wet heat, a humidity dripping down over the bridge of my nose and nearly making my eyes water. Ryan guided me down to settle my nose between his balls, his sack similarly greasy with long-gathered sweat and musk, and I nuzzled in there as well. Above my head, over the smooth line of his sheath and bulge of his knot beneath, the end of his sheath where thin fur gave way to skin, was crusted over with bits of yellowish-white flaking off as my attention began to stir him to attention. The wolf breathed another sigh, reached down with his other paw, slid his sheath down a bit... and my ears perked at the wet, sticky sound that that little motion brought, the crusts of gathered buildup popping free and the gunk inside squeezing out around his tip.

Showing a bit of pink, but mostly grimy off-white. I smirked, then shivered as another wave of sick pleasure vibrated through me.

"Jesus." Even with my nose buried between his balls, with my breath wafting out between his thighs and back around me, I could still pick up the sharp bite of his sheath's stink. Old piss like ammonia, a bittersweet stench nearly turning my stomach, the brighter touch of Ryan's own musk... I so, so_wanted to come up and flake the rest of that crust off with my tongue, wanted to close my lips around his tip and have him squeeze his grime onto my tongue as though his sheath were a tube of toothpaste. I worked against his paw and started to come up a bit, and he actually let me. "You fuckin' - _stink..."

"All for you, hon." He smirked, scritching behind my ears as I came close to the end of his sheath. The tip of his shaft in particular looked greasy, slimy, wet, the red flesh streaked and specked with fresh bits of the grime. I couldn't keep my nose from wrinkling against the almost physical force the odor carried. "You like it?"

I licked my lips, making sure to catch the lip of his sheath in the process. A little bit of it chipped off and landed on my tongue, immediately flooding my muzzle with sharp, acrid saltiness. "I love it."

"Good. Close your eyes again."

Yet again I did so without questioning it. Immediately my mind raced through all the different scenarios of what could come next: him rolling that contained slime off onto my lip from squeezing his sheath like a packet of mayonnaise; him sliding up between my lips and emptying his bladder into my maw, commanding me to drink every last drop; or maybe him slipping his thumbpad into that sheath, almost lumpy with the volume of stuff inside of it, and digging it out to wipe it off across my muzzle. Onto my lips, under my nose, on my cheeks, on my neck. Enough to keep me constantly in that hazy, steamy headspace, wrapped in his stench, unable to escape.

Not that I'd want to.

My ears flicked at the sound of him shifting again - and then I jumped with sudden gentle contact against my face. Gentle, yet firm at the same time, and definitely growing in pressure: warm solidity with a bit of softness over the surface, and a notable, distinguishing scent quite different from the one radiating out of his sheath. Eyes still closed, I leaned over and nuzzled against the warmth and scent: mostly-smooth skin ridged and stiff in places with callouses, little wrinkles of use, a slight tickling twitch from my whiskers brushing against him. My nose slid up over the surface of one of those ridges, earning a playful squeeze from the wolf above.

"It's been two weeks," he repeated, squeezing again. Pillowlike pawpads, so long as the pillow had been soaked and left out in the sun, pressed against the side of my muzzle. "My sheath isn't the only thing that needs attention. We'll save that for last."

"Oh..." I couldn't help but throb in my pants again, this time bringing my paws up to caress his footpaw against my face. This was a sharp and sour scent, still wrinkling my nose but in a different way from the weight of his sheath's grime; I ran my thumbs in along the underside of his footpaw and angled it closer to my muzzle, then pursed my lips up against the sensitive flesh. Ryan twitched again and squeezed his toes down over my nose, the pads resting lightly against my closed eyes. I shivered, swallowed, breathed in the slight stink between his toes, and then let my tongue come out to drag up over the calloused surface.

Doing so quickly dried my tongue out, slick hungry saliva left across his footpaw, so again and again I had to slip it back into my mouth, swallow down his taste and whatever dirt and grime had come off under the lick, and then get back to it. I still had my eyes shut and as such had to use my nose and paws to guide myself, holding him in place both for his sake as well as my own while I worked my way up, from ankle to ball, along each toe. Those I wrapped my tongue around and suckled gently, letting his short, blunted claws scrape along the fur of my cheek.

All of those scents wrapped together into the taste, the salt of sweat, the sourness of so much time without a shower, the stinging bitterness of the dirt itself. It all filled my maw, strengthening and growing as I moved from one toe to the next, slipping my tongue into the spaces between and curling up over the claw itself, careful not to get nicked; once I had finished with that paw, panting softly, I leaned back and, eyes still closed, waited for him to bring me to his other. Ryan did the opposite, instead just dragging his sole down over my waiting tongue, and spreading the stench more thoroughly against my nose.

I gave this footpaw the same treatment as the other, though I had to swallow more often from the dryness of cleaning both one after the other. By now I could feel him squirming and twitching with the attention, too, and when I finally did open my eyes, tongue slipping between the last two toes on that footpaw, I could see a good inch and a half of his yellow-streaked length poking out from his sheath, the brim of gathered grime having thickened as he grew.

"Good boy," the wolf rumbled, arms crossed in front of his chest. His revealed cock gave a throb; even above the stench of grimy footpaw so thoroughly ground into my nose and the fur of my muzzle, I could still quite easily pick up the heavy, sour scent of his sheath's slime, dripping down towards me. "You're not done yet."

I smirked, reaching up to wipe the drool off of my lips. My other paw drifted down between my own legs - I was still throbbing hard, of course, the cleaning only making me even more eager. Ryan watched as I pressed it up between my legs and squeezed against it, the sensation sending a sweet shiver up my back. "What's next?"

The wolf actually leaned down - my eyes still followed that sheath, moving back away from my muzzle - and trailed a claw up my chin. "Up."

"Alright." I shifted to stand up, having sat on my footpaws in kneeling down. So focused on doing that I didn't notice how he had shifted, too, until my nose and muzzle bumped directly into the unkempt, greasy fur beneath one raised arm. "Oh-"

If I had thought his footpaws had smelled sour...

Ryan's other paw settled on the back of my head, holding me in. "Here next. Don't you miss a spot. I wanna be dripping with drool instead of sweat."

And he certainly was sweaty. I had picked some of that up between his toes and along his soles, but here... the longer, stringy strands of fur indeed felt greasy, slick with gathered and lingering sweat, crusty at the ends. I swallowed, pulled in a slow, steady breath of that stink, undeniably Ryan with a powerful overtone of pure exertion and odor. It was actually a little bit difficult for me to get started, not from reluctance or hesitation but rather since I just loved that scent, that stink, so much. Again and again I pushed my nose up through the bush of fur, breathing deep and wiping that grease onto the skin of my nose, urged on by his tightening paw. The wolf pushed his body against my muzzle, too, practically using my fur as a towel to wipe himself off.

Again, not that I minded. Before long I was indeed sucking at that revealed armpit, careful not to be too free with my tongue and tickle him: I pursed my lips against the skin through the fur and dragged through, slurping off the salty sweat and, if I focused, the slight cool, artificial tang of whenever he had last worn deodorant. That had been quite a while ago, if I had to guess; after a while Ryan lowered that arm down, grinned down at me, and turned to the other side for me to do the same to his other armpit, and yet again I gladly obliged. By now I was almost painfully hard in my own pants, and while I slurped and suckled and worked, I unbuttoned and unzipped my pants just to give myself some relief.

Ryan was still grinning by the time I came back from that pit and flumped back onto the couch, hard shaft twitching between my legs and dripping eager pre. He had also gotten a little further worked up from the attention, a good half of his delicious length standing out against the dark fur of his lower belly. The entire thing was streaked with gathered grime, further down becoming wetter, stickier, slimier. I so wanted to taste it from the source.

"I think that's good," he said. The wolf ran one paw through the thick fur of his chest while the other slid down his belly, fingers spreading around the back of his sheath and making the heavy flesh and supple skin jiggle. A small squeeze and stroke pulled the skin back a bit, the lip sticking along the surface of his shaft, and then rolled it forward again - which of course squeezed out more of that yellow-white slime. "For now. We're not done, yet. Take those pants the rest of the way off and stand back up. Did I tell you you could sit down?"

I rose smoothly back up, in the same motion wiggling my hips so that my pants and underwear dropped down to my ankles. Once in front of him again, I stood up on my tiptoes and planted a kiss against his nose, grinning at the way his wrinkled with the stench of my breath. "You never complain when it's your lap I sit on."

"Uh huh." He returned the kiss, or rather just bumped my muzzle with his, and leaned in around me. My shaft bumped against his and I gave a thrust forward, grinding up into his still-greasy pubic fur; the wolf settled his paws against my rump, forefingers coming up beneath the base of my wide rudder and firmly, roughly, spreading me. "We'll get to this later today. I've been thinking about unloading into you for all of those two weeks... there's still something else to get to first, though."

I shivered, having to brace my paws on his waist for balance. One of his fingerpads circled in along my tailhole, the dry skin of his finger catching and gently pulling each ridge. "Y-yeah? What's - what's that?"

The paw teasing at my rump and poking at my tailhole remained in place while the other slid forward, claws dragging through thick fur. First his thumb grazed along the base of my shaft, and then it wrapped around; then his fingers followed and he squeezed, stroked, angled me down. I felt the wet heat of his shaft against mine, the wolf's fingers reaching to wrap his in his grip right up against mine. I shivered with the sensation, leaning more fully against him, and bent forward - but Ryan didn't stop. He pushed forward along my shaft, wiping that sticky slickness off against me, and with his paw on my rump pulled me forward against him until my tip poked against the grimy rim of his sheath.

His breath puffed out warm and humid against my face, just as his musk had done. It took all my willpower to keep from sliding forward and slipping that greasiness over myself. "Because," he went on, releasing my rump to bring that other paw in; I looked down to watch it, unable to resist a twitch and throb at the sight of him carefully slipping a finger into the supple skin of his sheath and pulling it up and forward, just far enough to cover my tip. "We gotta make it messier before you can clean it out." Then Ryan squeezed, pushed... and wrapped his sheath forward around my length, his kept close by.

I actually had to reach out and grip his sides to keep from crumpling against him. It was such a tight fit, hot and wet and sticky with both his hard cock and my own brought further and further in: he kept that paw wrapped around both of us, making sure that the slick skin of his sheath slid forward as he pushed and drew me in. I could definitely feel the two weeks of buildup squish and slide around deeper inside his sheath, wiping across the flesh of my shaft and rolling out from between the two of us at the pressure.

"Oh..." I swallowed and leaned against the wolf, hips reflexively thrusting forward. "Oh, God..."

"You like that, huh?" He rolled his fingers back and forth, the natural lubrication spreading out over me. The scent hit my nose and stayed there, strong and acrid with a strange depth to it, curdled and sour yet still so delicious. "Like the way that feels?"

Another shiver racked my body, and he squeezed again in response to my throb. I could feel my own pre dribble out into the pouch of his sheath and push back against myself. "Y-yeah..."

Ryan started to stroke slowly, still keeping a grip on the lip of his sheath: he drew it forward and back, forward and back over his length and my own, each time spreading more of his messy buildup across me. When I looked down I saw that now my shaft had become as speckled and crusted as his own.

"Show me just how much."

That wouldn't take me long. The taste and stink of his unwashed footpaws still on my tongue, the slimy, greasy sting of his armpits clinging to my throat and burning my nose, and now the heavier stench of his nasty sheath squeezing and pressing and slipping around me... I shivered again and swallowed, pressing my muzzle into his shoulder and then slipping down to breathe from beneath his arm again. Ryan couldn't bring me much further than halfway into his sheath what with himself growing harder and harder alongside me, but over the two years or so we had been dating, we'd made his sheath much roomier. It had started with fingers, and then a tongue, and then my nose too, and then my tip, and then further and further down... I pressed my nose firmly under his arm, willingly and gladly digging into the mixed sweat and saliva there.

As he stroked Ryan twitched and throbbed against me as well, the extra tightness bringing me closer and closer to my peak until I just couldn't hold myself back. I gripped onto his sides, I gritted my teeth, I let out a sharp sigh into his puffy underarm fur, pulled in a gasp, bucked, bucked again... and nearly lost my balance all over again with him tightly, _tightly_clamping his sheath shut around my length as it jumped with the spurts of my load, emptying directly out into his sheath along the hidden base of his cock and knot. With the third spurt the pressure pulled the skin of that sheath away from the flesh of his cock, the two sticking together from the heavy glue of the grime. The more I dumped into his sheath, the tighter his grip became, until I could tell what of my length was buried inside his sheath was completely surrounded by the hot, sticky slime of mixed cum and mess, ballooning out the skin of his sheath until it looked like his knot had doubled in size there.

Ryan waited until I had at least somewhat caught my breath and lifted my head from under his arm. "There we go," he murmured, tilting my head up with a nuzzle under my chin. "That's better. You ready, hon?"

I swallowed again. "Give me... a second..." and I started to pull my hips back. I expected him to release his sheath, to let it all pour out, but instead he just tightened his grip again so that nothing escaped when I finally pulled free. Nothing except for a wet roll of yellowish-white suspended in a dripping ooze, hanging down from the underside of his sheath towards his balls. From there I flopped back onto the couch directly behind me, again putting me level with that delicious sight. "You want me... to...?"

"You know." Ryan jiggled his sheath like a plump water balloon, the end pinched between his forefinger and thumb. The bare skin of the lip had grown a bit red, as it usually did whenever he brought me inside of it, and a good amount of the encrusting mess had rolled down into the fur surrounding it. "You made a mess. Clean it up."

I didn't even have to lean in for his scent, his stink, his reek, to overcome me. Immediately following my peak it nearly made me gag with the intensity of it, the sharp weight of it now mixing with the headier, familiar scent of my own load, dripping lazily down his balls. I licked my lips, swallowed, and leaned in, mouth open and tongue out - and then jumped when he finally released his grip on his sheath, that load of mine immediately spurting back out of his swollen sheath around his shaft and spraying across my waiting maw, bringing with it several loose chunks and bits of the gathered grime. That actually did make me gag but I gladly swallowed it down, pressing the warm squishiness against the roof of my mouth and filling my head with the richness right from the source. It had a certain sliminess when I swallowed it down, the little bits carried along the stickiness of my cum, and then the same when I had to swallow again to get the rest; then I closed the distance to his sheath and set my lips against it, dragging my tongue against the damp fur of his underside before curling it in.

There was definitely a lot more space there than there would have been, had he pushed me to my knees and had me clean him out right at the door. The slick supple skin yielded easily to my intruding tongue even with his cock twitching right against my cheek, each pulse sending another wave of his rich, tainted musk over me. Inside and around in his sheath I dug my tongue, slurping and suckling out the last of the sticky drips and anything else that had gotten caught in there, until I could practically feel the weight of the stink on each breath and in my stomach; each curl of my tongue brought another little forward buck and twitch out of him, and each inhalation made my nose wrinkle further until my whiskers tickled and my eyes stung, but still I worked at him.

Before long I slipped my tongue back out of his sheath, swallowed one more time - I had to scrape the surface against the roof of my mouth to rub off some of the buildup there - and then nuzzled down beneath his shaft to get to the other side of his sheath too, just finishing up on that side. From here I moved down and cupped my tongue beneath his balls as well, catching and slurping up everything that had leaked and rolled down during our greeting, with a good amount of the salty sting of sweat joining his musk as well. By the time I finished, sitting back on the couch with my jaw hanging open and tongue out, he had grown fully hard: the wolf kept his arms crossed in front of his chest and glanced down, and only then did I see the considerable cushion of sticky wet buildup concentrated behind the bulge of his knot.

So I leaned back in and took care of that, too, first pursing my lips against his sheath to push it back, then dragging my nose up through the moisture. Sharp and sour, everything that I had already smelled and tasted and swallowed, but so much thicker and richer here... I almost couldn't go through with it, with bringing my tongue up along the back to peel it off, so that it rolled into my mouth in a thick, soft layer. Rich, dark red of his flesh, twitching and throbbing and glistening with sweat and musk, coated and crusted with this wet light yellowish-white, a delicious, enticing sight... while I worked at cleaning him off I ran my fingers up and down his twitching length, coaxing out the little spurts and drips of pre as I went.

Finally it looked like I had finished, though, so again I sat back and swallowed, then had to do so another two times what with the wet stickiness of the stuff clinging to my tongue and throat. I grinned up at Ryan, fully aware that some of the grime might have been stuck to my teeth; panting softly, he rolled his eyes, shook his head, and then leaned down to kiss me, his tongue briefly wrapping into my mouth and swirling around before coming free, and leaving a thick rope of saliva dripping down my chin.

"I really missed that," he said, reaching down to rub at a spot on his sheath. "And it's just reminding me that there's no need for me to clean my sheath myself when I have you. I do need a shower, though, and so do you."

"That works." I stood back up and leaned in to nuzzle at him again; his nose wrinkled and he turned his head away from me, amusement glittering on his face. "Besides, I'm not done saying hello to you."

"Mhmm. I know." He wrapped his arms around me in a hug, then dropped one paw back down to my bare rump. His hard cock brushed against my thigh. "Neither am I. Come on. You were right, though."

"About what?"

The wolf's paw intertwined with mine as we split apart, each of us following the other down the hall towards the bedroom, and bathroom past that. His tail brushed against me. "About my gift for you. Part of it _is_a full bladder."

"Oh yeah?" While we walked I reached down and pressed in at his lower abdomen. He chuckled and batted my paw away. "Is that the shower you had in mind for me?"

Ryan just grinned that bright predator's smile at me. "Why don't you wait and see?"