FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The headless horses pull the skeletal coach down the deathly lane, off towards some inscrutable destination. None living knows precisely the destination of the Death's Coach, its goal unknown, its stops equally as mysterious. The only sure thing is its tumultuous journey, with its lowest cold and dreary depressions and the highest highs of experience.

Such a high breaks the night's silence and denies the grave's chill as it rises from the throat of the squirming and screaming kobold, her voice echoing through the pitch-blackness of the loneliness of the road. Though her lover has no head with which to express his appreciation of her, he instead uses his hands to play her as an instrument. In this way, the voiceless horseman can express himself, and Tik Tik can enjoy the darkness of the night without fear of its uncertainty.

A thumb presses against the sensitive nub, rubbing and rolling around. The tough flesh of the spectral rider adds a layer of texture to the ordinarily smooth skin of a humanoid, sending microscopic ripples of delight up the kobold's sensitive body.

She grips the skeletal construction of the coach, panting higher and faster with the more attention that the muscular man gives her. But she can only endure watching him for so long. Letting go of her support and trusting the ride to continue to be safe for her, the kobold latches onto the headless man's chest, griping over his solid and rigid pecs.

"Oh... oh fucking..." she starts, finger tracing the deep and well-defined contours of muscle. "You must work out lots. At least when not spirit," she muses.

The horseman does not react to her touch. Would he have gasped or nodded or fluttered his eyes? So many questions go through Tik Tik. So many mysteries flutter past this creature and his skeletal carriage.

"Ah... that thing," Tik Tik says, wrapping the tip of her tail around his arm, pulling him in toward her love while also taking the opportunity to trace the tip over the bulging definition. "Tik Tik can't ask too much of you. Tik Tik can never learn everything about you. You seem to like everything Tik Tik, ah, love. Sexy... mysterious... never can, mmm, learn everything!"

His fingers play with her, curling, swirling, splitting, pushing. She hisses and tightens the grip on his arm. "W... wait...!" she huffs. "Pull out."

He hesitates, and for a moment, the only sound that fills the void of the night is the clopping of hooves upon the old and lonely road.

But he relents, pulling his fingers away from her, sitting up, and letting her tail and hands slip off him.

Tik Tik takes this moment to hop up, sitting on the driver's lap, facing him, wrapping herself around his impressive bulk, nuzzling her cheek against his sternum, gripping his shredded sides, and giggling. "Eee hehehe.... Tik Tik need hug big strong guys more!" she says, her tail stroking up and down his pant leg. She turns her snout, bopping her nose against him and indulging a moment to take a breath, expecting perhaps the scent of the earth or the strange sweetness that follows the undead. Or, more hopefully, the distinct muskiness that comes from the hard-working body of one who indulges their physical perfection.

But alas, there is no scent. And when she presses her snout against him, lingering for a time, there is a fuzziness to his very being, like he isn't entirely there. Tik Tik wrinkles her nose and turns away.

"CHOO!"

He reaches into his pants pocket, pulls out a handkerchief, and places it on her nose.

Tik Tik giggles, wiping her snout. "Aw, thankie, thankie," she says. "But you strange. No ectoplasm. But no flesh, either. Very nice. Very elemental. Is that it? You are the element of death?"

He puts his handkerchief back in his pocket, hands now on the reins, embracing the kobold. He whips the reins, urging the lead horse on, who gallops, thus increasing the speed and the nearly imperceptible bouncing of the coach to that of a wild ride.

Tik Tik clings to his body, her hips pressing against his lap, and it is there that she senses for real that mound in his leggings. She licks her lips, her forehead pressing against him, staring down, grinding her dripping desire on his trousers. "Oooh, wow. Muscles not only thing you have!" she says. "Such a bouncy ride, but Tik Tik want bounce on something else!

Her tail hooks on the hem of his pants, her hands fumbling at the button and the belt, her head pressed to him for support as the rough rocking and springing of the coach through a speedy and uneven road only increases the rubbing and the grinding and the bouncing. She soon tugs the thing down far enough, showing off the patch of curly hair and the faintest hint of the base of his shaft, so thick, with a bulging vein.

"Hehe... Tik Tik wonder, if no have blood, then what makes boner?" She says, pressing her snout to his body, rolling out her tongue, and licking. With a final little tug, she pulls the pants down far enough for the girthy length to spring up, his balls resting just on the hem of his pants.

He shifts slightly, tightening his grip on the reins.

"Oh, must be uncomfortable, be squeezed like this. "Tik Tik teases, fluttering her eyes. "But Tik Tik glad you have at least one head," she says this, pressing her palm to the hood of that magnificent cock. She squeezes it, biting her lip, sharp teeth slipping back and forth. "You can enjoy some things like other men can, and that means Tik Tik can enjoy you, too."

He wraps his arms around her, squeezing her sides while guiding the horses.

"You drive, coach," Tik Tik muses, "While Tik Tik ride you. My headless steed," she giggles, squeezing the head.

He tenses up.

"Oh, yes... yess..."