FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The Floridian town of Bushville had an open secret. No one--and I mean absolutely no one--talked about what the adults did every Friday night, at the last house on Clairmont Street.

Not in public, not in front of their cubs, their teenagers, during parent-teacher association meetings, during local events such as the county fair or a Christmas pageant, or even to outsiders. Only could you and the Almighty talk about what happened on Friday nights, in the privacy of your prayers during the Sunday service at the town's lone church. Even the minister himself partook in the weekly parties, then spent the weekend praying away his sinful acts until the week began again.

Everyone did call it one thing: Heathen's Night, when every respectable adult resident in our small town came to the last house on Clairmont Street. The one with cars inconspicuously parked far apart and with the window drapes drawn completely shut. There, so long as the other gave their verbal consent, an orgy commenced throughout the house.

The largest gathering occurred in the living room, where any stranger would find themselves lost in a sea of writhing, throbbing, moaning and quivering furry bodies. Married men, married women, single men, single women, a couple widows and a few divorcees that loved something called 'hate sex'. Often, a willing female would be the recipient of multiple erect penises, in her vulva, between her breasts, inside her slutty maw or all three at once. If they didn't find a hole to place their cocks in, every male present would find themselves jacking off to the sights around them.

Some had their preferred routines. Our town's fox postman loved having anal sex with any one of the willing housewives, usually in one of the guest bedrooms. The gym teacher, a muscular and burly Rottweiler, loved having his rod sucked by either Mrs. Applegate, the town's librarian or by her meek husband, a substitute teacher who also loved to watch her be roughly spit roasted on the table, the family room's couch, it did not matter. There was even a certain fox twink who loved sucking off every straight guy he could seduce.

Me? I worked at the local power plant as a supervisor. Had a loving wife, an incredibly smart daughter off to university down in Cape Fiesta, a devoted churchgoer and the owner of a 401k plan in desperate need to be used. Until about the time our cub started kindergarten though, the wife and I had been drifting apart, to the point we may have even considered the idea of divorce until one of my drinking buddies broke the one rule of Heathen's Night.

Luckily for both of us, the broken rule was forgiven. I still remembered that night when Natasha and I first entered the house, a two-story Victorian with three bedrooms, a jacuzzi in the backyard alongside a vegetable garden, and a large living room. A truly beautiful home now drenched over the years in debauchery, now about to have been on full display for us. For as long as anybody could remember, it belonged to an aging lion couple named the Phillips who refused to move on from the 1960s. On any other day, they were treated as the town's weird, liberal residents. On every Friday night though, it turned out they were just another eager face or hole or cock in the sea of furs fucking each other, free from the judging eyes of the town.

Natasha and I were immediately flustered at first and almost left for home. However, we paused our departure for a moment when one of our neighbors, a friendly buck named Mark and his wife Marcia, emerged from the living room to welcome us. They recognized how embarrassed we were, then asked if we wanted to get a cup of coffee in the kitchen ("Coffee helps with everything, Jason! Heh, even other things, if ya know what I mean, right?").

By the time we calmed down from the initial shock, mainly on Natasha's part, she slowly became open to the idea of Heathen's Night. In fact, during the small talk we had with Mark and Marcia in the otherwise empty kitchen, I saw her ogling eyes drift between me and a muscular Great Dane we knew worked as one of Bushville's volunteer firemen, joining in on a sloppy, naked spit roast in the other room with the town's Baptist minister and one of the countless housewives present. A contradiction of values to us, a married couple who tried their best in maintaining a wholesome, conservative nuclear family in like with the American dream.

See, Bushville existed on the weird precipice bordering between our sweltering, mosquito-infested state and the conservative, humid climate of Georgia. A border checkpoint and four hours of driving north led to downtown Atalanta while a drive southwest along the Atlantic coast gave way to a direct path all the way to the amusement parks that dominated Park Beach. It was supposed to be a safe, conservative-leaning place to raise cubs away from the crime of the cities and the boredom of the countryside.

And here, everyone had an image to maintain. If one of us ever decided to spill one secret about a resident, then the entire façade would fall like a house of playing cards. Everyone knew each other's kinks and deviant preferences, but everyone didn't care, so long as we all played along with the open secret.

"Heathen's Night is the only time of the week we can sin our hearts out," Marcia told me and Natasha, giggling as I blushed at the sight of her pert breasts naked under the kitchen lights. Meanwhile, Mark had been grinning as Natasha held her paw back from his erect penis. "It is a night where we can fulfil our deepest, most deviant desires...with no strings attached."

After some convincing, we decided to try it out for one night. After undressing and shyly taking some poppers and some condoms from a large bowl placed on the countertop, Mark and I fucked not just each other's wives, but the wives of other town residents throughout the rest of the night.

With Marcia, I fucked the teasing doe's pussy over the side of one recliner so hard I thought her gasps were from pain, only to be followed by whines from her begging me to keep fucking her. So, I did until I climaxed well all over her back after pulling out of her. I honestly thought I'd be exhausted afterward, only to have my assumptions tarnished minutes later when my libido suddenly returned, and I could go for round two with another housewife.

The party went on well into the night. The bodies around us became a blur as I fucked whoever had a ready, willing hole. Through my lust-fueled haze, I believed I even fucked an entire load into one feminine-looking fox twink who was a college graduate, then fucked another load inside him as I watched Natasha get her pussy stretched by a farmer stallion and his equally muscular twin brother. Or were they father and son? I didn't recall that night but didn't care.

The only downside of Heathen's Night was that the house had only two bathrooms, and the married couples who arrived needed to wait in line for the showers before finally returning home to their unsuspecting cubs. Luckily, all of them would either be long asleep or distracted by a TV to notice their parents returning.

For Natasha and I, we think it ended up saving our marriage, and we eventually started hiring a babysitter quite often for the Friday nights we could attend and become lost in our lustful desires. Earlier that day, I'd be cordial and professional with my employees at the power plant, only to find myself thrusting my cock in and out of one of them later that same evening. Then, we'd return to silent professionalism the following week afterward. Rinse and repeat.

Safe to say, Natasha and I grew to absolutely love Heathen's Night.