FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Truthfully, Lane wasn’t sure whether Terry was a rat or a mouse. Sat on the other end of the sofa, his long and pink tail coiled around the leg of the seat. Across from them, the TV lit the dark room up in reds and yellows, two men on the screen arguing in the midst of a gun fight. It was a comedy that had just released, but that wasn’t first and foremost on Lane’s mind. “Just got this in,” he said, holding up the joint. “Indica blend. It’s called Triple Wizard Haze.” Trisha scoffed next to him, and a smile tweaked Lane’s lip. “Yeah, it’s silly shit. Don’t doubt the high though.” He dangled the joint between his index and ring finger with a certain alacrity as he let it hang in front of Trish before he brought it back to his mouth. Sucking in, the lit end flared bright and orange as the streetlights just out the window. He held the smoke in his lungs, felt the burn in his throat, and let his eyes drift shut. He could feel the thickness of the air in his chest, though maybe he was just imagining it, but it helped him imagine the tension he held alongside his breath. A second more, and he let it out in one steady stream, a fountain of smoke that billowed in the TV glow just to roll along the ceiling and fade. He glanced at Trisha and found her watching him. His smile returned. “Have a hit,” he said, bringing it to her lips next. She blinked, glancing at Terry, but the rodent was barely listening; bong between his thighs, eyes bloodshot, he was half-swallowed by the end of the sofa with his attention solely fixed on the explosions on screen. Amusement danced across Trisha’s face, the cat’s eyes narrowed even as her lip curled. She was a short-haired feline, her fur white and pristine save for a little black dot along the back of her left hand. Every time Lane came over he could see the way she tried to cover it almost like it was a reflex. One hand over the other and folded neat in his lap. Funny that a cat would hide something from a wolf, funnier still that she’d be hiding it from her dealer. He never commented on it though. “Better not disappoint,” Trish said, drawing him from his thoughts as she leaned in. Her breath was hot against the back of his hand, her shoulder leaning into his, yet all Lane could watch were those delicate pink lips as Trisha took the paper into her mouth. They were perfect against the white of her fur as she wrinkled her nose, closed her eyes. He watched her chest rise, the purple of her tee loosely draped— Terry had lucked out, pulling a girl with tits like that. Trish leaned back, held her breath. One second, two. Then she let it out through her nose, twin spouts of smoke steaming into her lap, sputtering as she coughed once and broke it with a laugh. “Fuck,” her hand cut through the haze as she waved it away, a giggle chasing the curls of smoke, “you weren’t fuckin’ kidding.” “I’m a serious man,” he said, shrugging as he shot her a grin. “I’ve got plenty if you’re lookin’ to stock up.” “Well, I am running a bit low, just kinda short on cash,” she said. She brought her shoulders up as she gave him a sheepish smile, then she glanced at her boyfriend. “Terry, you got anything for the weed?” “Wuh?” He looked over with the speed of a man moving through molasses. It was like his body was losing a war with gravity, or maybe a chain pulling him into the depths of the sofa.His head wobbled slightly, his nose twitching like a black ball balanced on a marble pillar. “Yeh, maybe… you tried the kitchen?” It wasn’t Lane’s first time hanging out with the two, it wasn’t even his first time at their place, but every time he watched Terry take a hit felt like he was watching the man push his limits. Sure he’d always been the kind of guy with a bowl in his bag, but half the time it felt like he was just trying to impress a wolf twice his size. And that always lead to this, the rat becoming more furniture than person. Still, at least the guy enjoyed the movie. “Why don’t you show me, Trish?” Lane said as Terry turned back to the screen. Trish couldn’t keep the look off her face, the little twist of her lips that mirrored the twist in her chest— Lane knew what she’d really wanted the moment her fingers had touched his. “What, don’t think I trust a wolf digging through our cabinets?” She said as she lifted her brow. “Guess you might get lost,” she waved her hand. “C’mere.” Lane watched as she stood, her shorts tugged up between her asscheeks like a black river between marble hills. The way he leered should have gotten him smacked, but Terry was too distracted by flashing lights and Trisha kept her tail lifted all the way to the kitchen. If there was a chance he’d misread her, the fear evaporated with every jiggle in her thigh and sway of her apple-bottom ass, let alone the glance she shot at him over her shoulder. “Fuckin’ hell…” Lane breathed out, pushing himself to his feet as he joined her. The kitchen wasn’t massive by any means, more an alcove tucked away just behind the living room. A yellowed ceiling light, beige walls, a black range and a few cabinets that bore the marks of previous tenants scuffs and dings like the rings of a tree. There was just enough space for him to stand in the doorway, Trisha opposite him. Secluded enough that Terry couldn’t see, but not much more than that. Trish looked at him with something beneath her lashes that hadn’t been there in the living room. It was soft and hot as sap beneath the sun, and the only thing that could fix it was better than any cash he might have snagged out of Terry’s wallet. “Got my money, kitty?” Lane said, his voice a low rumble, lower than the sound of the TV outside. “Fuck off,” Trish said with a purr, stepping up to him just to wrap her arms around the back of his neck. “I don’t think I’ve ever paid for your weed.” “Not with cash,” he said as he pushed his grin into the side of her neck and bit. Soft, but sharp enough that Trish couldn’t hide her gasp. “Maybe I should hold out til I get it.” “Please, Lane? Don’t make me beg, It’s been ages since I’ve had a good fuck. I just want it, I want…” She trailed off, looking up at him with pink in her fur. “You.” There was nothing Lane wanted to hear more. “Shorts off. Now.” Trisha burst into a grin, her tail flicking behind her. There wasn’t a trace of hesitation, not as she pulled her shorts down with the rustle of nylon and all the need of a girl starving. Down, down those long legs she pulled that black fabric, leaving nothing but the pristine white of her fur. Her thighs begged for his touch, doughy and round just beneath that perky little ass of hers. It was wasted on Terry, it really was. That’s why his fingers dug deep into them as he stole a gasp, lifting her up and onto the edge of the counter. “Good girl,” he huffed in her ear, “now mine.” This close, all he heard was her purr rumble like an engine, a deep and rolling rumble that paired perfect with the fingertips she pressed beneath his belt. The buckle jingled as she unthreaded leather, pushed the button of his jeans back through the denim. And all the while he kissed along her collarbone, dug his snout into her neck just to nibble and nip and pry those half-bitten sounds from her lips. “Ghh…” He let out a breath, her hand wrapping around his cock, sending a wave of warm need through his gut. She smiled, and he felt it against his ear. “Good boy,” Trish teased, her breath husky. Then she was fishing him free, little motes of delight flashing orange and pink up his spine every time her nails grazed his cock. Her purr only grew louder, his jeans splayed open like the leaves of a flower. Around his waist, her legs matched as the tapered tip of his cock finally kissed her pussy, letting him feel her shiver from the tips of her ears to the bottom of her soles. There was nothing Lane loved more than the look on her face, the low grin in her eyes, the hunger that rolled over her tongue with each breath. He could see it building in her, the desire for him, what he could give, what she hadn’t had in months. Her shoulders bunched as she braced herself on the countertop, nearly crammed in the corner where the counter met the wall. Just to her left was the hall. If Lane leaned over, he could see into the living room, the TV casting its glow across and into the kitchen. It glinted off the sink, the chandelier lights, the sound of cars crashing masking the jingle of his belt against the counter. “Just gonna tease?” His hand trailed up her side, and he watched as she closed her eyes with the shiver that lifted her fur. “Or are you going to beg?” “Seriously?” Trish opened an eye, glancing at the gap just beside her. “You want to play that game?” Lane leaned over, looked out into the living room. The pizza box half-open in front of him, Terry leaned into the couch with his mouth half-open, his eyes glazed as the movie glinted in them. Lane laughed, looking back at her. “Seriously. Your BF is in his own world.” “Tell me something I don’t know,” Trish rolled her eyes, but that smile stayed. “He’s a sweet guy, just doesn’t have it… all there.” She glanced down, shrugging. “Then you know what to do to get it.” Trisha bit her lip, her claws rasping like a breeze as she curled her fingers against the counter. There were few things more delicious than watching the war on her face, the weight she placed on risk against reward. That, and he could see that flicker of shame, that little betrayal as the scales tipped. What she wanted wasn’t the same as what a faithful girl did, what a stronger girl could hold out for. But who had the strength to hold up a relationship without reward? “Please?” She opened her eyes as she looked up, her lip quivering so perfect Lane thought it might have been rehearsed. “Lane, he… Terry doesn’t know about last time, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it.” Trisha shuddered as she confessed it, her thighs pinching around Lane’s waist. “That night with your hand in my hair, the way you made me squeal. He didn’t even ask when I came downstairs to the party, not even with your cum in my fur.” Her hips ground against him, letting his cock rub against that wet and eager need. “Guess it’s good my thighs are white, huh?” “And the rest of you, kitty,” Lane smiled, his hand gliding up her neck, thumb teasing shivers along her collar bone. “We’ll leave a few more marks, can’t help a wolf his nature.” She leaned her cheek into his palm as he cupped it, savouring the warmth with eyes closed. Lane left her like that a moment, a twisted tenderness as her boyfriend smoked himself stupid on the couch outside. Yet the throb between Lane’s thighs didn’t let the moment last, not as that heat gnawed in his gut. There wasn’t any denying the animal within. His hand found the corner of the kitchen wall, bracing himself above her. Denim rustled, his belt dragging against granite, his cock dragging against the wet of her pussy. Trish moaned and caught herself, pushed a knuckle past her lips just to quiet herself, her face pinched with pleasure. Pinched with anticipation. That tapered tip lingered a moment, trailing tenderly over her clit, only to kiss her entrance with a pearl of pre. A heartbeat. Another. With a glance, he pushed inside her. There was nothing in the world like it, the feeling of warm, waiting velvet wrapped around his cock, scattering sparks of deep, visceral delight through his gut. He felt the wet, waiting heat of her body part around him. No sight could match her, watching her brow furrow, her mouth open, her face that perfect mask of oversensitive pleasure. Trish did a beautiful job of holding back her moan, her little whine as he spread her, but those canine ears of his heard the need in her throat, the months of mediocrity he shattered. She kept her eyes on his, soft and wide and melting as he drove himself deeper. Inch by inch he took what wasn’t his, and watched the shudder roll through her shoulders, her palm slap once against the counter. The nails of her other hand dug into the wall as she arched her back, bit back the deep and ravening moan that curled in her throat. Blonde locks fell in a curtain, shivering with every steaming, panting breath. He let her sit like that, counter flattening the graceful curve of her ass. She was carved of stone, marble come to life, and every beat of his heart wanted to claim her there, take her like the wolf he was. It was a drumbeat, the sound pulsing in his chest, and his only desire was to make her hips clap against his in time to it. Trish stopped him with a hand against his chest, her fingers splayed against his shirt. “Hhhnf…” Her thighs quivered around him, a spasm that rolled down her spine. Yet her arm was a river of white as she snaked it over black granite, searching for the ashtray that sat atop it. Blind fingers found the blunt still smoldering there, fumbling it between them just to bring to her lips. She pulled it deep, the tip a candle between them. Yet Lane couldn’t help his groan, the soft sound of pleasure as he felt her tense with the breath, her walls squeezing around him just to relax as she exhaled. When he opened his eyes, Trish grinned from a haze of smoke. “Want some?” She offered it, the blunt dangling seductively between her fingers. Lane grinned. “What do you think?” That got a laugh from Trish, pushing herself up just to press the blunt to his lips. It was still wet from her mouth, warm from the breath she’d pulled, a connection that Terry would never have. Smoke flooded Lane’s mouth as he filled his lungs with it and let his eyes drift closed. Trish settled back, and he felt every shift of her body around his length, each squeeze of her muscles. Tight. Wet. Eager. It was all he could do not to dig gashes into the wall with his claws, the weed hot in his throat. Yet it settled over him like a blanket, building off the hit from before, and the one before that. Foggy. Comforting. A heat different from the one between his thighs, a heat that started in his bones and rolled through his muscles. Lane savoured it, lost himself in the subtle tide of Trish’s body, the way she ground her hips slow and easy. When he opened his eyes again, he saw the smirk on her face, the play of a cat with a mouse. She breathed smoke into his face, stirring that amused growl to life in his chest. Smoke curling within, he beckoned her closer, leaned in to meet the curious look on her face. With confidence, a firm and easy press of his lips, he met the softness of her mouth with his own, felt her yield to the kiss he stole. She didn’t tense, didn’t stiffen— she only closed her eyes as a shiver rolled through her, moaned soft as his tongue slipped along hers. Then, Lane breathed out. Trisha pulled him closer as she took his breath into her lungs, shotgunned the hit of smoke like it was her hundredth time. Maybe it was. The cat wasn’t a shrinking violet, she had the confidence of a hunter, a girl who knew what she wanted. That’s why she only smiled against his lips, only dug her claws in the slightest bit as her hips worked against his. They shared each other’s bodies, her boyfriend only feet away, oblivious to the violation of his relationship. Smoke trailed out of Trish’s nose as she let go of the breath in her lungs, the look on her face nothing short of ecstasy. The breath they shared was an intimacy richer than anything Terry had ever gotten, and Lane knew it. It was one of the reasons he kept agreeing to come over, hang out. The thrill of it, the taboo, the look in Trish’s eye as she broke the kiss… it was stronger than any drug. “Now you get to fuck me,” Trisha said. The smile on her face was incandescent. Lane laughed, leaning in til his breath rolled over her ear. “Little late for that, kitty.” Then, his fingers dug into her side. He pulled her in, pulled her tight as his hips slapped up and into hers to drive a perfect squeal from her lips! “Trish? Babe?” Terry drawled from out on the couch. “You two… alright?” “Yes, baby!” Trisha managed, eyes wide, her hand tight to her chest. “Lane dropped a beer on my foot.” They stood there, breath held for a long, long second. “Alright. Careful, don’t need any accidents…” They heard the couch shift, then the movie grew louder. Lane laughed, low and husky in Trish’s ear, the feline shaking as she joined him. “No accidents? Guess we need a rubber.” “As if he could tell,” Trisha said, grinning up. “I’ll just tell him there’s some longhair in my blood, skips a generation.” “Devil.” Lane kissed her on the nose, but he didn’t waste the opportunity. Instead, he pressed himself into her, ground his cock up between her thighs until he heard her mewl out those little delights. Only then did he draw back, letting her feel every last inch slip free. “God, Lane, just fill me, fucking fill me,” she panted, her voice hushed. “You’re so much bigger, I just… God, I need it.” There wasn’t any hesitation, not as he surged forward, his nuts clapping off of her ass cheeks. Her white fur rippled like cream as she bit back another squeal, the softness of her thighs locked around his waist. There wasn’t any waiting now, nothing to hold back that hunger. There was only the heat between them, the hazy musk of weed. Lane’s claws dug into the wall as he pushed himself into her, folded her into the corner until she was almost doubled up, his thrusts jingling his belt against the cabinets. It was lucky the blare of the TV drowned it out, some deafening crescendo of sound as the movie ramped up to its climax. Yet all Lane could think of was the feeling of Trish wrapped around him, Terry’s girlfriend squeezing tight around his cock, begging in his ear. “Please, Lane, please… I want your puppies, I want to make a mistake, I…” Trisha couldn’t help herself, burying her face in his shoulder. “I want you to breed me, I want to feel like a woman!” Lane grit his teeth as every word rolled over him, drove him into that frenzy. He was a wolf in rut, a man who needed to stake his claim. Who cared if she was another man’s girl, who cared about the cuck on the couch? She was begging for him, begging for his kids inside her, and there was nothing to get between them now. He felt her tense first as he pounded up and in so hard he heard glass shake. Trish squeaked out little sounds, her knuckle pinched between her fangs. Every thrust, every grind pushed that welling, canine knot against her lips. There was nothing to hold it back, not as he watched her eyelids flutter, felt her tense and squirm with each roll of his hips! “I need it, God… I need it,” she huffed into his fur, barely able to help herself. “I haven’t had a real man to fuck me in years and I just… I need to feel you inside me, Lane, I want a stronger man’s cum.” There was no holding back. Instead, Lane surged forward, his teeth digging into her shoulder as he pulled her face into his just so she could bury her squeal in his fur. All he felt was her tense, her pussy squeezing around his cock even as he pushed, ground, slammed his hips forward and sunk his knot into her! She squeezed tighter than any toy, a living, breathing vice-grip around his cock. Every breath ragged between them, only their bliss shared as rope after rope of thick, hot cum shot inside. It splattered over her walls, marked them. Stained them. Lane hadn’t any idea how long it took for them to come back to themselves, a shuddering mess breathing hard on the counter. Sweat slicked the granite, “Hold tight, little cat,” Lane grunted, wrapping his hand around her snout before she could pull away. Not without reason— he braced the other on her hip and pried, pushed her back as he wrenched his hips away. Pinched between his fingers, Trish’s squeal muffled itself against her lips as her eyes shot wide, that fat knot yanked right back out of her! The poor cat collapsed back against the wall as he let her go, chest heaving, her leg twitching once against his waist. Thick cum leaked out of her well-bred hole, pussy slick with another man’s claim. Just the sight of it threatened to stiffen him again, the way she half-lay there, utterly ruined beneath him. “Do wolves…” Trisha panted, her hair a veil across her face. “Always have to blow the house down?” “Only when little kitties don’t pay up,” he teased, gently cupping her chin in his fingers. “I have somethin’ for you to blow, though.” “Lane…” She protested, but the way she glanced at his throbbing, cum-slick cock was anything but chaste. Trish gave him a look but her smile undercut it like a river beneath a sandbank. She still leaking his cum, but that didn’t keep her from bending forward with a feline fluidity, a kind of grace that started in the arch of her back and ended in the pink of her lips as she wrapped them around his cock. Lane grunted, squeezed his eyes shut, but there was nothing he could do to keep himself from drooling pre over her tongue with every lick and suck. Even the way she purred against him only served to make her mouth vibrate softly, a barely-perceptible rhythm that did nothing to help him soften. Even that rough tongue of hers made for the perfect cumrag, slowly lapping up the mess she’d helped him make as a kind of smug satisfaction spread across her face. “Little bitch,” he half-grunted, half-chuckled. She didn’t answer, only worked more and more of his cock into her mouth just to swallow down the slick heat of cum and her own arousal. By the time she pulled away, he was hard again, his length slick with her spit. “Aww, puppy want to go again?” She asked, grinning up at him. “We take any longer and your boyfriend’s gonna ask questions,” he said, though his nails bit into the cabinet he was braced against. Everything in his body screamed to take her again then and there, plant his puppies so deep she couldn’t question it, hell, make it so that even Terry could tell the kids weren’t his. He only barely got a grip on himself. “Put it away for me.” “Yes, Sir,” she purred, slipping herself off of the counter. Her shoulder brushed his cock as she bent and pulled his pants up for him, Trish taking his cock in hand as she slowly pressed it back into his underwear. He shuddered out a breath, but the sound of the zipper and the jingle of his belt buckle kept him from changing his mind as Trisha cinched it tight around his waist. “Good girl,” he said, leaning in just to press the end of the joint back to her lips. “Here’s your treat.” “I already got mine,” she said as she pinched it in her mouth, though her purring didn’t stop for a moment. “Go keep Terry comfy, I’ll be out in a sec.” Lane gave her ass one last smack before he stepped back into the hall and slipped into the dark of the living room. Terry barely looked up, his eyes moving like the ice in a glacier as he looked up at the far taller wolf. “Find that cash?” “Trish paid up,” Lane said, and he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. Terry didn’t seem to notice, only nodded as Lane sat down opposite. “Good, hate to piss off our dealer.” “Oh, there isn’t a chance of that,” Trisha said as she stepped back into the living room, her voice as cheerful as the little bounce in her step. “Lane gave us something a little extra. Say ‘Thank you, Lane.’” Trisha pressed the still-smouldering end of the joint to Terry’s lips, the rat’s eyes widening slightly. Yet the surprise passed quick as Terry took a breath and pulled in the smoke, holding it for just a moment before he let it out again. Terry eased back as smoke drifted through the room, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Thank you, Lane,” he said. Trisha giggled as she kissed him. “Oh, you’re more than welcome,” Lane said with a laugh, his arm around the back of the couch as Trish settled in just beside him. She glanced at him, but didn’t say a word more as she let her hand rest on the wolf’s thigh. “More welcome than you’ll ever know.”