My name is Sasha.
My name is Sasha, I am a brown fox.
Try and understand my situation, I'm a fox. A brown fox. Foxes are known to have high sex drive, and many are very sexually active. Sure, I've got the drive, nothing new there, but my problem is I just can't get laid. For most foxes finding someone to pork is not too terribly hard, I mean if all foxes want to get laid, then all foxes are gonna be looking.
My situation is mildly different though. I'm queer, and I have no idea where to meet other gay foxes.
And to be frank, it's not for lack of trying, and getting rejected by straight guys gets a little more embarrassing and humiliating every time. It's not that I try to hide the fact that I'm gay from the guys I meet, but that doesn't necessarily mean I tell them either... It's not always the easiest thing to bring up when you're showering at the gym with a raging boner, and a dozen or so other guys showering around you.
"Hey! Lookit! My wiener is big! Someone touch it!"
Or maybe relaxing on a beach.
"Hey, a tent! Lets play in it!" To which a horrified mother would respond "Nnooooo!!!"
Like, there was this one time, and I thought for sure I had met someone who might let me suck them off. Let me explain what happened, maybe I was being naïve. I dunno.
So I was relaxing at home, not doing too much aside from watching a little TV. It wasn't all that late, but I was feeling pretty hungry, so I picked up the phone to order some food. Roughly 45 minutes later the delivery guy was at the door, holding one gigantic pizza, and with a big smile on his face. He said I owed him a blow job (he later tried to insist he had said "Please don't tell my boss I was late, I'll lose my job"), but I'm pretty sure he wanted a blow job. So anyway, I asked if he might like to come in a minute and take a short break from his deliveries. I was winking a lot during this time, trying to let him know I knew he was hot for me. He basically said he needed to go, but I quickly grabbed a sharp object and told him to come in anyway.
So he sat on the couch, commented on some of the art on my walls (mostly pics from rotten.com! I eat babies!), and got up to go real quickly. As a responsible host, I couldn't let him leave until he had properly rested, had something to drink, and had a proper blow job courtesy of my fuzzy muzzle. You might be interested to know my body is basically entirely shaved, save for a large patch of hair on my back which I allowed to grow and read "666, THE DEVIL IS ME." And my face, my face still has all it's original hair. I don't look like most furries.
I put a few shots of rye in his drink to loosen his attitude. He asked me if I had put liquor in this drink. I told him no.
I don't know if I came on too strong or what, but he started yelling for help and asking me what I wanted from him and all this crap. I tried to explain that I was going to give him head like he asked at the door (and this is where he explained that he had NOT asked for head), and he ran out of the house yelling something like "You freak! You freak!" I couldn't really tell, I think he was crying.
Obviously, the subtle approach was not going to work if I wanted to meet someone.
I didn't leave the house for about 2 weeks (didn't shower even once!), and during that time I thought about the most effective way to attract other gay foxes.
The furry population is generally civilized, rarely revisiting the old days where we walked on 4 feet and sniffed each others asses (I do like sniffing ass though!). In many respects the old system worked very well, you could be very straight forward and simply sniff someone's ass if you liked them. And if they weren't interested, all they had to do was walk away. If they were interested, they'd let you sniff as long as you wanted, and they might even give you a sniff as well.
Surely such behavior would not be acceptable in today's society, so I tried to think of some way that allowed me to be very direct, yet still socially acceptable. There's nothing quite as direct as sniffing someone in the ass, but the next best thing is definitely licking, and last time I asked someone they said licking a stranger was socially acceptable.
The house was pretty low on food after not leaving for two weeks, and the first place I intended to visit was the grocery store for a bit of sustenance.
I don't have a car, but I do have two sorta capable legs, so getting to the store wasn't a big problem. Never quite sure what I might feel like eating later in the week, I asked the nice lady at customer service what the store might sell for, should someone want to buy it. She told me the price would likely be several million dollars, and because I had only several dollars, I did not make an offer on the store.
People everywhere in the store seemed to be quietly complaining about some terrible smell, I didn't notice anything foul though, so I tried to ignore their constant comments. The frozen aisles often contain the most convenient foods available, requiring the operator of the package to simply warm the contents, and then simply eat the contents. But I have no fur! It's very cold down there! I began to ask,
"Will you go down there and get me some frozen pizzas?" to which the greater majority of people would respond either "No" or "Don't talk to me, you stinky, stinky fox."
Naturally, the stinking smell could NOT have been me, as people around the entire store were smelling it. Apparently that never occurred to these customers though. Some people just don't think. And the people who said no were just assholes.
But thankfully, my undying faith in the good of furries was not crushed, one gentle fox heard me out and helped me with the pizzas. He also offered me a handful of spare change and a place to sleep that night, what a silly old fur!
Even though the kind fox was, at the VERY least, 4 times my age, I felt something inside me say "He's the one." This decrepit old fox and myself were destined to spend eternity together, living and screwing blissfully until one of us met our untimely demise. I actually suspected he might succumb to a heart attack or stroke at any given second, but it's better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. I stuck out my tongue, and he shot an odd look my way. I licked his face a few times, and he seemed quite taken back. The people around us looked somewhat taken back as well. Consumed by the passion of the moment, I tore away at the pants of the old gent and began to lick, starting with the toes, and working my way up his leg. I stopped at the kneecaps to give them extra attention, I once heard that the kneecaps of the elderly are especially sensitive. At this time he was staggering backwards and making weird gasping noises, but he sure as hell wasn't fighting my advances, so I carried on. Up through the inner thigh, making extra sure to get the old, dry, wrinkly spots, until I reached his scrotum.
The penis was far too old to be of any practical sexual use, and hidden in the sheath I was unable to pleasure that portion of my lover. I focused all my sexual energy on the wrinkly scrotum, grey with age, and covered in coarse, patchy hair. That gasping noise had increased in intensity during this time, and we had drawn quite the crowd. Furs of all ages were puking out of pure joy and admiration!
However, to my dismay, and in the middle of our passion, the old man suffered a heart attack and died with his nuts in my mouth. Puking turned into shrieks of terror, and people began to suggest in loud and frantic voices that an ambulance be called, and that I be arrested for some crime that I clearly never did. The man was obviously on the verge of death before I sexed him up, so I fail to understand how I might be responsible for his death.
I ran out of the store, torn by the loss of my first true love. Chased by God knows how many furs, all trying to catch me so the police could deliver proper justice for my act of public affection.
I did manage to get away though, so I guess I'll be trying my luck again tomorrow.
RIP kind old fox, I will never forget your scrotum.