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Funbun's Cum Run

By DankeDonuts

https://dankedonuts.sofurry.com/

A capacity crowd was packed into the 3000-seat grandstand of the open-air racetrack. And more besides, in dozens of box-seats and VIP suites. Furry-folk of all kind waved at the snack venders and jostled for better views of the track before them. The 1500-foot course itself was composed of imported beach sand, fine and near-white. It wrapped around a center field which was dominated by a decorative pond. With short hedges nearer the curved stretches, pruned into a menagerie of erotic images. The remaining feature of this grassy circle, just the other side of the starting gate, was a small and brightly colored house with a pointed roof. A windsock on top rolled loosely with the soft northeasterly breeze. A jumbotron mounted behind the opposite straightaway was displaying a series of names and betting odds.

"Good afternoon, chase fans! And welcome to another beautiful day at Golden Paws Casino And Brothel Resort Race Track," boomed the amplified voice of a cobra-hooded announcer. "Tonight's sexhibition race is scheduled for 'One Catch, One Release.' The dogs are taking their places in the starter's gate now. Place your bets!"

Inside the little 'house,' another athlete awaited her que to step out onto the track. A copper and cream bunny. Her rust-brown ponytail bobbed to and fro as she stretched, jogged in place, psyched herself up for the flurry of motion and sweat to come. Her two-toned puff of a tail -- dark up top, light underneath -- bounced against her black and gold tracksuit, below a back-wide icon of two paws embossed on a coin. The signal-horn sounded, drawing a sleazy smile to her lips. "Here we, go!" She double-checked her cheek-mic and stepped outside.

She wasn't a competitor, though. She was the finishing line.

"And finally, your Lure for today's race... FUNBUUUUUUNNN!" Arms wide and waving wildly, she greeted the menagerie of onlookers. This never got old! She loved playing to the crowds and cameras, and she made a point of waving to her friend in the announcer's booth when she stepped through the opening in the side-rail that led onto the sandy track. Spotting a camera-drone flying past, she blew it a kiss. The kiss was caught by the jumbotron, and enhanced with animated heart graphics. To one side of the live-view, a pre-made card was now blazing her headshot, athletics stats, and shots from her nude pinup calendar. (Which was available at the gift stand.)

The rabbit turned her attention next to the starting gate and the six greyhounds stabled within. A motley collection of fur colors. Each in colored vests festooned with a number and the casino's icon. Long and lean, with an athlete's hunger for victory in their eyes. And hunger for something else; each was leering at the rabbit-girl through muzzles of black leather and gold wire. That classy touch of bondage was all part of the show. As were the pornographic stage names they were racing under.

Sir Bustanut had the first position, a spotted grey coat, and the naive vigor of a rookie. The Court Jizzter was an eyesore of beige and white blotches, but underneath that muzzle Funbun knew he had the sweetest smile. Red Rocket's coat was practically orange, but his handle didn't refer to his coat. Silver-toned Cock Of Gibraltar the brawniest one of the bunch, if a greyhound could ever be accused of being 'brawny.' Pure black Smell The Lovepump was the shortest, though he had one of the better records. Last but not least, Spooge Mountain, a wide-shouldered, rust-colored veteran.

The signal horn sounded for the second time. She leaned into the rail, resting on her forearms provocatively, fuzzy legs crossed. Music started pumping through the racetrack speakers. Heady and fast, full of bass and horns. Stripping music! Saxophones crashed together, queuing Funbun to leap up away from the rail, and flap her jacket open and closed in time with the beat. Flashing views of her tanktop to racers and spectators alike, stepping back and forth as well. Next a full-turn, arms snaking upwards, shake-shake-shaking that fantastic ass!

When those arms came down, they caressed her bosom and peeled that jacket away. Tossed it onto the green, where it collided with the sound of 6000 clapping paws. Her head rolled round and round, whipping her ears this way and that, as her hands crawled lower, down over her thighs. Rrriiip! There went the baggy tracksuit jeggings, tearing away at breakaway seams, sent flying off to join its friend and another round of applause.

In tanktop and short-shorts she hopped about a portion of the track. Stopping at the side closest the grandstand to put her hands on her knees and swing her head and ears round in a long circle. Coming upright, she slapped her ass then grabbed her top. Lifted it up to her breasts, put it back down, lifted it over her breasts, put it back down, lifted it to her neck, put it back down, then finally peeling it all the way off. All while skipping merrily back to the gate. Close enough to feel the wind from the pack pawing at her, not close enough to grab.

A spin, a step, a lusty wriggling bow, and she was facing the audience again. Fingers playing with the strap of her sports-bra, and the hem of her shorts. Which would she take off next? She let the screaming of the crowd decide. So there went the bra, to a chorus of applause! She was really bouncing now, and her dancing became for frenetic, more wild and free. The sultry music picked up time and pitch to match, so she danced faster still. Fast enough to get the momentum to leap up onto the side rail itself. Step. Kick! Step Kick! Perfectly balanced, she trotted through another stanza. The music shifted in tempo, a little lower and a little slower. Carefully but carefully, she went down on one knee, and then leaned backwards until she was lying upon on the rail, eyes to the sky. That's where she wriggled out of her shorts.

The jumbotron was by now switching from shots of her striptease to scenes from inside each dog's gate. The males were all naked from the waist down, and all their dicks were too long for their sheaths to contain. Getting longer still, and harder too. But when the dancer slithered off the rail, she kept her eyes off the screen and on their faces. On their transformations from determined athletes to desperate, lust-crazed beasts.

In nothing but a thong, she pranced ahead of the starting gate. The music picked up pace, and she flew into a final burst of turns, kicks, and crotches. At the last of these, she came up without her undies. Buck naked and leering right back at her dog pack, she licked a finger and tapped it to her (hot!) behind. The music stopped, but you wouldn't know it through the noise her audience was making. She held the pose a moment, recovering her breath from a panting chest.

Fully erect now, the dogs' knots were inflating. Each in turn getting their scene on the big screen. Skyward, some of the audience could no longer wait, and had started going groping or even going down on each other. The signal horn sounded again.

Funbun's mic was live. "You boys wanna chase me?" She asked with theatrical flair. Her words were met with to the baying of the hounds and cheers of her audience.

She wrapped her hands about her waist and wriggled about. "You wanna catch me?" The dogs pressed into the doors of their gates, barking madly.

Her hands reached up and squeezed her tits together, while she leaned her face towards them. "You wanna FUCK me?" Six racers howled affirmatives, their carnal fervor amplified by five hundred times as many mouths calling out from the stands.

Funbun turned back to the spectators. "Do you wanna watch one'a these fine-ass horndogs fuck meeeeee?" The crowd went absolutely nuts. Hoots, hollers, and catcalls followed Funbun as she turned and assumed the starting position; an angled crotch with right foot forward and both hands splayed before her, fingers pressing into the track. She wagged her dampening pussy at the athletes behind her. Knowing those super-sensitive canine noses could smell every last drop of nature's own lubricant.

Out the corner of one eye, the rabbit could see two skunks already going at it; a female leaning over an oblivious hippo's seat, her beau taking her from behind. She licked her lips while stealing a glance at them, but she didn't get to see the finish. The signal horn sounded one last time. A deep breath later, the gunshot. Funbun took off with all she had! A second later, the flip of the gate, the thundering of twelve paws.

A serpentine voice could she no longer hear gave the play-by-play. _"Out of the gate, Cock-Of-Gibraltar is up front! Red Rocket drafts into second! Coming up on the first curve it's Bustanut on the outside. Cock takes it back! Red Rocket from the inside, bolts out of Cock's shadow make his move! And Court Jizzter comes outta nowhere to take second!"

The 'finishing line' could hear the footfalls behind her. The steaming, determined breaths. Even with her long ears pinned back by the rushing air, she knew right where everyone was. The pretense of lanes was gone, the males were a clustered mob. Moving left when she did, moving right when she did. She kicked herself into another gear to keep ahead of it. Sure, she risked wearing herself down too soon, but where was the fun in making this easy on her perspective fucktoys?_

"Funbun's putting the spurs to 'em! But the Jizzter will not be denied! Jizz spurts ahead of the Rocket! He keeps on her right flank all through the back stretch!"

Funbun felt a paw grazed the hair of her tail. From the tiny bit of attached skin, an electric shot roared through her whole body. Charging her legs to even greater speed. THIS was why she played the lure! The thrill of the chase! What happened when she got caught!.

"Coming into the second curve, our Lure is moving faster than ever I've ever seen her go! And Jizzter's blown his wad! He slows down, letting Red Rocket get close on her left side! Mountain finds an opening on the outside! Lovepump bringing up the rear!

She jinked hard to the right, gaining distance from Red Rocket with a sideways leap. Putting her right of Jizzter, still and barely ahead of him. She heard a bark of surprise and legs stumbling away to the left.

"The Mountain crumbles! Can Smell The Lovepump the break away- NO! The Lovepump splatters himself all over Spooge Mountain! Down and away they go! They are outta the race, folks! Red Rocket keeps his lead, hedging toward center-track..."

The rolls and yelps of two competitors were distant memories in an instant. The spectator's loudly offered glee matched her own. But now she was on the outside of the track, coming out of the second curve. This... wasn't the best of positions. Cock and Nut were jostling for position right behind her. Red Rocket -- who she could see out the corner of her eye -- was keeping them from gaining any more distance and her from breaking loose.

"They've got her herded, ladies and gents! But who will take the rabbit 'home'?"

Capture was inevitable now - and the whole point of this race! - but professional pride egged her on to cross the finishing line. Complete just one circuit of the track. Time to do what rabbits do! She threw everything she had left into a two-footed leap. Only to see Rocket and Gibraltar fly past her, and the track rushing close. She threw out her hands to arrest the crash.

"Bustanut has her! Bustanut has her! That's it! It's all over folks!"

Funbun's ears were flooded with grit and applause. Realizing too late that she'd telegraphed her move, she shook the sand out of her face and looked upward. There to see her right leg in the grip of the proud victor. His spotted grey chest pumping like a bellows. A courteous winner, Sir Bustanut helped this catch up to her knees. The two spent athletes leaned into each other. The Lure's breasts were tender from all the slapping around they'd been doing. But pushing them into her victor felt oh so good! Somehow, it always did.

"Got you... before... a full circle," the purple-vested dog boasted cheerfully. His words obscured by the muzzle, and stuttered by his panting breaths.

"Sure did... big guy," she returned, with equally huffing lungs. The folks who had bet on the rabbit would surely be disappointed... For about all the time it would take for the pair to recover and make their way to the next and final stage of this sporting event.

"What a race! Don't go rushing off to collect your bets, though! The action's not over yet!"

No, no it was not! With one hand clutching an arm and the other wrapped around Funbun's waist, Bustanut escorted his catch to the Winner's Circle. A small clearing in the grassy field. Bordered with wreaths and ribbons. The other five racers were already seated near it by the time the soon-to-be-conjoined couple arrived. Spooge Mountain pinched her ass on the way up.

Behind them, the jumbotron was showing a close-up of his and her faces. Embellished with animated heart graphics and lewd emojis. Bustanut released her waist but took her hand. Together they raised their arms in victory, bathing in the crowd's thunderous approval. Funbun turned toward her partner, lust bubbling over in her green eyes. With her hands her own again she reached forth to feel up his chest.

Bustanut's own hands wandered all over Funbun as she worked to get his muzzle off. His mitts explored her hips, her waist, her underboobs, tracing every curve he could get hold of. "Won't you even do me the courtesy of undoing my ponytail?" she laughed, discarding the mouth guard.

The greyhound's answer was low growl, and the clamp of his jaws over her right breast. Pleasure and pain roared through her. "Ah-oooaaahhhhh!" her masochistic cry was drowned out by an eager audience demanding to see more. What strength she had left in her legs fled her in that moment. She leaned into the male who was about to take her. Her paws climbed up into and under his vest, dug deep into sweat-matted fur.

Drawing his hands up behind her back and over her shoulders, the victor took firm hold of his prize. He wasted no time in licking her spectacular breasts, her neck, her face. Pulling her down to the ground, gently but determinedly. There clearly wasn't going to be much in the way of foreplay, and that was fine by Funbun. The run itself had done its work. She couldn't get any hornier if she tried!

The grass was soft and he was hard. Taut pectoral muscles pressed into her yielding breasts. Firm hands spread her legs. A rock hard abdomen pressed into her stomach, followed by a rigid cock burying itself within her feminine folds. From the shuddering gasp of penetration, to the panting sighs she let out with every thrust, her mic carried the sounds of fornication to every ear in the area. Sighs became grunts. Grunts became moans. Moans became shouts.

Funbun found her second wind amid the tangle of flesh. She shoved him over to one side, rolled him onto his back, went at him from up top. Pawing herself and squeezing her tits for all they were worth. His hands played with her stomach, her ass, the spaces where legs met hips. A fervently wagging tail swept rustled the grass betwixt his legs. Swiff! Swiff! Swiff! His thumbs zeroed in on her clit, drawing the loudest, wildest screams yet out of her.

The happily humping rabbit's ears registered, barely, the buzzing of a camera-drone, but she was beyond caring about that. All she wanted was for this moment of sheer bliss to go on forever. But the pressure building up in her from all angles warned her that would not be. So too something in the way his movements changed. He was close. So close. Closer with every grimy, furious thrust. Firm steely-grey paws jerked outward to grasp her thighs and start pulling her down. Funbun gritted her teeth against the oncoming knot -

"Hrrrrff!"

"Aahhhhhhhh!" -

There it was! Pressing against her core, stretching it in all directions past the edge of ecstasy. She came loud and hard. "HUUUAAHHHHNNNNGGGG!" Her tunnel clenched and quivered, gripping the cock mercilessly, milking it for every last drop of his seed. Sir Bustanut bucked and howled beneath her, their four legs kicking up a dust-storm while they rode the wave of pure sensation. She rolled off him the moment her cunt was released. But there was no rest for them, yet, for pair was caught in yet another wave. One of cheers and applause from the audience, and wails of reckless abandon.

"It's pandemonium, ladies and gentlemen! Orgies in the stands! Everywhere I look, there's bare asses and tits and dicks and there's a dick going in between two tits! Is anyone even listening to this anymore? Who cares? I LOVE this job! There's a ferret out on the track now. Over the rail she goes, smooth and easy! She's making her way out to the duck pond! Trying to get anyone to follow. She's got her skirt off, waving it for attention. A lovely pair of otters have taken the bait. Go get 'er girls!"

Reed Rocket and Court Jizzter now chasing each other around the lure house. The skunks from before had found new partners. Others still leapt or climbed over the grandstand rail, and the remaining three racers disappeared under a pile of bodies and discarded clothes. Those that weren't actively engaged with a lover, or two or more, were performing a literal Wave.

Funbun's eyes gorged themselves the scene. She couldn't help but get frisky again. "Care to go a second round?" she asked her victor, whiskers twitching. She ran a finger along his chest, and down to his loins, to help him make his decision.

"The race was to one catch, one 'release'," the male reminded her. Through his eyes were on Funbun alone. A renewed vigor pulling was at the corner of his lips.

"Fuck that noise," she grinned. Straddling the hound once more, she started working another hard-on out of him.