FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Sally steps forward, placing the potted plant carefully upon her nightstand as she approaches him with the seductive swaying of her hips and the fluttering of her eyes as she stands before him.

He breaks the silence even though her body casts a spell against him. "My princess," he whispers. "We cannot do this. It has never been your desire, and I know you never wished to follow arranged marriages or anything, and I, ep!"

She places a finger upon her lips and silences the general. I don't care about politics, and I don't care about customs or logic. Do you want to know what I care for?

He takes a deep breath. Was he purposefully inhaling the flower's fragrance, or was he so tied to the scent of Sally's pheromones Or, even more oddly, did he have a higher-level want to remember her smell? He cannot tell, but he can respond. "Oh, oui...!"

Sally places a hand upon his chest, slipping fingers down over his fur, tracing the hidden contours of his well-sculpted form underneath. She lowers herself down as she keeps her eyes locked upon his own. The coyote whimpers, grasping his gifts for her even as she gets down onto her knees, her hands resting on his hips. "I want you," she says finally, "to realize something. That day in the cave," she says, her hands moving away from him, resting upon her knees, squishing her breasts together as her lips turn up into a genuine smile, "that you claimed me as your mate."

"Mon Dieu..." he whispers to himself. Is that the answer to the puzzles that had vexed his mind the whole time? The ancient and nearly forgotten practices of Mobiankind of matehood had folded into marriage ceremonies and the auspicious of the law. They had sealed something far more primal in that cave. The flowers had, and still do, provide the true union of flesh.

Sally leans in, her nose brushing up against the head of Antoine's now-erect cock.

The coyote yelps, taking a step back, dropping the gifts right by her, and clattering to the floor. When did his manhood emerge? How did he not realize how much he throbbed in desire for her?

"You're too tied to your propriety," Sally says, lifting a hand up, letting the head of his cock rest upon her wrist. She watches it, breathing in open-mouthed astonishment and letting the hot air moisten his member. "You worry too much about a sword of steel when your greatest tool has been with you all of your life."

Antoine licks his lips as he watches, his fingers twitching, his breath quickening.

Sally leans in, closing her mouth and pressing her lips upon the tip of his cock. She does this a few more times, letting the smacking sound fill the room as no more words seem to be coming between the two. After such quick little teases, she flicks the tip of her tongue against the head, swirling over the opening, flicking down along the hood to the sensitive section under the tip.

He sighs, his legs shaking, but he quickly remembers his strength and training. He stands resolute, holding his hands behind his back, letting her have his dick for her inspection, his head held high.

Sally giggles at this, letting the thing run up along her snout as she kisses the underside. She rolls her tongue out, pressing it under the tip, letting that muscle tickle up along his shaft, and flick at the head.

His eyes flutter slightly, his nostrils flare, and his breath becomes somewhat strained, but he does not let his voice go too high.

"What's the matter, mate?" she asks, wrapping her fingers around the shaft, stroking it with slow, methodical movements. "Don't you enjoy this?" Her words are more moans than speech. "Groan for me, please. I need to hear you."

"Aaahn... haa..." he finally lets go, his arms dangling to his sides.

"Mmm, that's it," she says, shuddering from shoulders to knees, and with that confirmation that he loves her actions, she renews her efforts.

That cock practically disappears into her mouth. The warm cavern of Sally's maw is a beauty he has no words for, but he can feel kindred to his ancestors at that moment. And as her tongue rides up along the bottom of his shaft and her lips suck gently upon a ring of delight, a shock rises up through Antoine's body--one that compels him to let go. But this goes counter to his desire to let her continue, to allow Sally to paint his penis with her spit and to moan from the reactions she gives him.

By the Walkers, Sally is perfect. Dare he breaks that perfection to take her and use her?

Antoine watches Sally as she works on his shaft, taking more of his long coyote cock into her mouth. He places a hand upon her head, running a gloved hand over her hair, and sighs. "Oo la la," he says, taking a deep breath. "I suppose it is true what they say about the squirrels and their nuts, non?"

Sally narrows her gaze, opening her mouth wide. She slides her hands around his thigh and squeezes that firm soldier tush before she slams her face against his hips. Her nose presses against his pubic mound, and her jaw opens wide, lips pulling in the dangling sacs, tongue rolling the two inside her warm and now stuffed mouth.

"Z... zut alors!" he gasps, leaning forward over her, his once attentive legs buckling now at the sheer force of Sally's attack upon his cock. "This... this is the flower, but no, is it... it is you. It's always been you." He grips her head with his other hand, gritting his teeth. He pants through it, growling. "Just as this... has always... been me!"

With all of his determination, he pulls her away from his dick and pulls himself away from her mouth.