FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

"What about our favorite restaurant in the Art district?" asked a distant voice, low but articulate.

"Overbooked, too. They won't have any seatings until next month," continued a second voice, lower and almost husky, each of its words followed by a huff. "Plus, we got something better."

"We do?" a question, a step back, and wide-open blue eyes fixated on the presented box.

"What do you think? It brings back memories, heh. Let's order something tonight."

It did bring back memories to the sooth-feathered Bird of an older and simpler time. His vest undone, his French cuffs thrown away, and even his shirt half-open, Marisbury felt the muscle memory rush to his brain as he held the white controller, pushing and using the buttons.

"You still have that driving game?" he asked, sitting cross-legged on the massive sofa adapted to their size, without a hint of shame or respect for his position.

"Who do you think I am?" answered the Bearded vulture with a beaming expression, his sandy fingers dancing over the boxed collection of old games until he pulled out the example of Bird Dash 3. In a snap, the game was set, and they sat together.

What would people say of Gosskett, a respectable mogul whose hand dipped in any industry within the country, sitting on a Sofa with only a black top and white briefs over his hulking frame? What would they say of the Emperor of Fashion, as they tended to call him?

And what about Marisbury? Diminutive, missing another quarter to near his partner's height and volume, yet important through his political pull within the left wing?

Both were known, both were important... And yet, both were sitting like two old teenagers in a massive but empty villa, surrounded by beer cans as Marisbury explored the game's options: from the story mode, too long, to the races and the duels.

"Do you remember the hours we spent on the Moon track? What was that shortcut you found?" started Marisbury, his dignified composure begone to replace it with interest as they selected their characters: slow and hulking monster versus hat-wearing pizza delivery bird.

"A good player never reveals his secrets!" answered Gosskett, mirthful and stroking that tufty chest through the tank top. "Plus, we haven't waged anything yet?"

"What? Again? We're no longer teenagers. Plus, it's stupid to wage cheap change!"

"We could make it more interesting, you know?"

Marisbury raised an eyebrow, reaching for one of those beer bottles to take a sip. "I won't-"

"Strip-races, simple as that, 'Bury. One piece off when you lose."

"You are almost naked; it's not fair!" retorted the shorter bird, putting away his bottle.

"Oh. But you'll need that handicap, 'bury. Remember, you rarely won against me."

"That's not true. Plus, it's been years. You've lost your touch!"

Well... He didn't.

Perhaps Gosskett's old console had gathered dust over the years, but the thirteen-foot-sized vulture hadn't lost his touch. Landslide was a euphemism to describe how Marisbury got crushed as run after run led him into second place. Even the arrival of cheap pizzas didn't stop the Mogul from using his tricks and shortcuts and for the layers to be peeled off. Vest, shirt, shoes, socks, pants... The Ministry ended with nothing but white briefs over him, while Gosskett had kept his tank top and his underwear on.

"That's not fair! What's the chances to get that item?" groaned the Bearded Vulture as they were shoulder to shoulder in the last lap. Marisbury had to keep pressing a button to win.

"It's not my fault if luck is with- Fuck!"

The screen froze, turned black, and then returned to the console's logo. Cutting off the course and...

"Fuck! I was so close!" groaned the Ministry, about to throw his controller while he heard some rummaging on his right. His friend was there, moving and pulling down his underwear, letting loose of that massive bulbous cock, round testicles, and... Yeah, that natural musk.

"What? It's a tie. We both lose something," chuckled Gosskett as he threw the white but sweaty underwear between them.

"But-. I only have my brief to lose while you still have your shirt! I have nothing else to wager!" retorted Marisbury, red in the face and yet, his thumb slipping under the band.

"Are you sure? What about favors? Or you're too chicken?"

Gosskett's tone was suave, perverse... But more than that, he patted his lap to beckon Marisbury.

"Here's another handicap for me: you can move around and block my vision, and I can't do anything. Sweeter?" he explained, patting his large thighs... Although Marisbury's blue eyes were riveted on his reddish junk. It... Throbbed, was half-mast. And its scent... Was heady.

"Fine. But you're about to lose!"

Again, Marisbury's ego was his downfall. Even sitting on Gosskett's lap, his bare cheeks on the orange thighs, he couldn't stop his friend from winning. Moving, obtruding the view, poking his friend's controller. Not only did the Vulture take it in strides, but it barely hindered him. Again, the same screen appeared despite the change of posture.

"Another win for me. Should I cash in my favor?"

"Uff! Another run! I'll win this time!"

Without waiting, Marisbury pressed the selection and restarted the race, leaning back to stop his friend from seeing the screen. The starting line appeared, and their vehicles too. But.

"HRMPHH!" he said, feeling some damp cloth wrapped around his face. White, damp, and... Odorous. It had a harsh, funk, almost head-numbing. He instantly reached for it to pull it out. But no, Gosskett grabbed his hand.

"No-no. This is my favor. You'll keep my underwear on until you win. Got it?"

Marisbury glanced over his shoulder, watching his friend's grin. But spoke, his voice muffled: "Fine. But I won't lose!"

He leaned back, ready to stop Gosskett and stoop low, ready to use any tricks. But it all seemed more difficult. His movements were sluggish, the lights on the screen kept flickering, and even his pulse beneath the bleeding-heart feathers on his sternum quickened.

"What is it? You can't take it? 'Bury? Popping a boner like a good slut?" asked Gosskett as he suddenly stopped at the finish line, way ahead of Marisbury.

The sandy hands pushed the controller aside to grip the underwear and press on it, rubbing it against the Minister's nose. It... it reeked, but at the same time... It smelled good.

"Gosskett, ha- hands off!" he mumbled, unable to focus on the race so much that he drove into a ditch. Again... And again.

"What? I'm only touching my stinky underwear. You like it, don't you? Your dick tells me," chuckled the Vulture, pointing down.

Down, right between Marisbury's legs. His pinkish dick was erect and dripping with precum, pointing up like a spear. There... There was no way to ignore it, especially as all that precum dripped on his feathered testicles and then on the sofa.

"Goss-" started Marisbury, only to cry when the controller was pulled from his hand... And another was put there.

"What do you think about pushing my car to the end? You've been losing all that night, but you can win.. Once," cooed the vulture, using his claw to cram a few folds within Marisbury's nostrils. "You can get back your controller... But you only have to push a button and..."

Before the Mogul could continue, his vehicle dashed forward and passed the finish line. It surprised him, of course. But a dastard grin formed on his beak as he gripped Marisbury's head, utterly covering that beak with his hand while another ran on the lither bird's belly.

"I knew you were a musk slut, but that?" gloated Gosskett as he slipped his hands beneath Marisbury's legs to lift them... And position his ass right against his erect and dripping dick.

"Hhh...Gosskett... I-"

"For once, you win something. Maybe I'll teach you how to play," chuckled the Vulture.

He chuckled more as he pushed his drippy and veiny dick against the smaller's bird ass, feeling the orifice clench, wink... But it didn't resist. Marisbury was too high from huffing his underwear. The poor smaller bird was sniffing, moaning, slurping even the sweat-soaked cloth like a degenerate or an addict.

"Fuck... Aren't you a size queen?" laughed the Bearded Vulture, his mouth tensing a bit while he pushed his wide cockhead through the orifice. The inner walls were supple, soft, moist even. He merely had to sink in for Marisbury's ass to swallow and slurp on his dick. Resistance? Pain? Slowing down? There were none from that orifice.

"Fuck... That's not an asshole you have; that's a crater, slut!" he laughed, passing a hand over his friend's belly to feel the bulge formed by his throbbing dick within. One... He had to share as he grabbed Marisbury's hands and led them on it.

"What do you feel, slut?"

"Hhh... Y- Your dick."

"Your dick, who?"

"Your dick... Sir?"

"That's right!" laughed the Vulture, his beak split in a grin as he removed his hands from Marisbury's belly to grab those sweet thighs... And lift them. He moved them away, erasing the bulging guts... Solely to thrust them back, making that slutty bird squeal and moan.

But again, he repeated, forcing, lifting, then throwing that open hole on his dick. Like the pretty bird he was, Marisbury began to chirp, singing and crying all he wanted as his poor, battered prostate forced an orgasm out of him.

But it didn't stop Gosskett from continuing to hammer and ruin that hole.

"Here- We go!" he hissed through his beak, his husky voice right by the bird's earhole as he came.

Deeply nestled within Marisbury, he emptied his clenching balls right into his friend's belly. He stroked it, feeling all that nut-batter fill up and start to distend the poor Minister's belly, too lost in another orgasm to care. Round, filled, stuffed, he looked closer to a turkey for the celebration when all that good cum began to drip from Marisbury's open beak in front of the screen.

"A- Another race... Sir," moaned Marisbury, coughing globs of cum. His belly was round, his hard dick pressing below, and that asshole gaping and outstretched by the Vulture's cock. Far from being disgusted, he looked eager. Just as eager as Gosskett, his balls still churning.

"Fine, musk slut. But I won't pull out..." he said, watching Marisbury set up the duel once more. "You know what? If I win... You're becoming my dedicated cumdump. Deal?"

"Deal," answered Marisbury, still using Gosskett's controller.