FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

A big thanks to jhwgh1968 for all his help preparing this to see the light of day.

Daniel gripped the key with a faint smile and slid it into the lock, the tumblers crunching and shifting. He jiggled when it lodged, then twisted it, turned the handle. The door squealed as it opened, and the dog stepped onto the threshold, still holding the storm door with his other paw. He looked back.

I was standing on the porch, tail flicking anxiously, feeling distinctly out of place. His backward glance caught me looking at the ancient white coupé we had just left, sitting in his driveway and creaking as its radiator cooled. When I looked toward him, his green eyes caught mine effortlessly.

"Come in, silly," he said, simply. A moment of dumb inaction; I took a step, reaching out to hold the door.

He grinned. "That's right. I'm not gonna hurt you, so stop lashin' your tail like that."

He was halfway up the stairs when I followed, and disappeared into his room as I reached the second floor. I watched his black-and-white tail and expensive running shoes rounding the corner. At the top of the stairs, I stopped.

Tension settled on my skin, clamminess under thick fur. I wasn't sure what would happen when I entered that room.

Certain parts of me, however, intended to find out. The last doorframe neared.

Daniel was standing just inside, grinning. His paw shot out and grabbed mine, and my chest surged painfully. "C'mere," Daniel said, slowly, his voice soft. He tugged me gently into the room, and I stumbled after willingly.

He pushed the door closed. After hesitating a moment, he twisted the lock. His parents weren't home; his little brother was still at school. The house was empty. But still, he locked the door. The finality of that gesture set my heart to pounding, and my pants, which were already uncomfortably tight, suddenly seemed a prison.

"So, uh..." He drew a little nearer, and I was surprised when he dropped his gaze shyly. "How's this going to work?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but I didn't have one. To be fair, I had no idea how anything was working right now, least of all the antecedent of that weighty pronoun 'this'. If he'd asked me that question thirty seconds ago, I might have turned and left.

Now I was in his room, the door was locked, and he was standing much closer to me than any boy should stand to another. His chest was six inches from mine at most; slightly lower, and not as broad. Daniel was two months my elder, but I was eight inches taller and seventy pounds heavier.

His other paw met my waist. A tingling feeling raced up my torso; I shivered. The dalmatian smiled a little. "Are you scared?" he asked.

I didn't feel like I had to answer that question. Not with the way I was shaking, the way my fur was standing up in tufts, on the outer edges of my arms and all down my back. My tail was still flicking, slow and low.

I felt his next exhale hit my face. The hot, moist puff of air made me swallow. I turned my head.

"You don't have to be..." he whispered, paw coming up to touch my face. I shied away.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to..." he murmured, stroking my cheek. I shivered once again.

My own paw tentatively met his chest, trembling awfully. At first, it was a weak push, as though to separate us. Then it became a caress, over his pectoral muscle and onto his side.

A smile spread across the dalmatian's face. "Do you want to, then?"

I didn't feel like I had to answer that question, either. I tried, but his paw covered my mouth. "Let's just... start with what we did last week. Okay?"

Relief washed over me. Something I'd already felt anxious about, already accepted that I enjoyed. His paws both moved to my chest, his claws caught in my polo, and he pressed his wet, soft nose against mine, slow and predictable. The way he moved, you'd think I was a flighty feral, prone to startle and bolt. Though, I supposed... that characterization wasn't very far off.

He kissed me the way he had six days before, dry and tender, and I liked it as much as I did then. I kissed back less hesitantly; six days of thought, and I was more confident that this was all right.

I smiled just a little bit. Just because it was him, and he made me feel...

He caught that expression and broke the kiss, giggling a bit. He knew what it meant. I blushed and ducked my head; he licked the side of my muzzle tenderly. "D'you wanna say it this time?"

No. And yes. I struggled to force the words out. "You're..."

"Yeaaaahhh?" He drew it out, dipping his head and fixing me with an intent look. That crooked smile, the white gleam of fur and fangs. His ears twitched up; his emerald eyes glittered and made me blink.

"You're... pretty..." I mumbled, ears dropped back shyly.

His arms slid slowly around my neck, while mine hung stupidly at my sides. His body shifted against mine, chests touching, stomachs touching, knees touching. "What?" he asked, deliberately. He'd heard me perfectly. Still, he gave me that smile and licked my face once more, encouraging me to say it again.

I managed a little louder, voice rough. "You're really pretty."

His eyes softened, and his mouth met mine the instant I finished speaking. I lost myself in the sensation of his smooth lips, his silky fur and rich, subtle, musky canine scent. We kissed, again and again.

Too soon, he halted, and my eyes came open and locked on his. Whatever he saw there made him giggle once again. "Don't worry, I'm not going to stop. You don't have to look so disappointed." He took my paw and tugged it.

I blushed, following him across the room. He gave me a gentle push, and I sat down on the side of his bed, gulping.

That devious grin again. He leaned in, standing between my splayed knees. "How about we try something a bit more..."

I waited. His nose was less than an inch from mine, and it was hard to think. "...A-a bit more what?"

He hiked one leg up onto the bed, and suddenly there was a dalmatian in my lap, kneeling astride me. His paws ran up my back as he drew closer, and he answered me just as our lips made contact.

"...exciting!"

There wasn't really a way to prepare; his tongue was abruptly in my mouth, warm and wet and tasting like he smelled. There was nothing I could do to prevent it, to take it back. Very quickly, I wasn't sure I wanted to. So be it that my first real kiss was with another guy. I was glad it was him.

I copied the dalmatian as best I could, but it was difficult. He'd obviously had a lot more practice than I had, and something told me he wasn't new to kissing other boys. On top of that, I could barely draw up the courage to poke my tongue into his mouth in return. The feel of his sharp teeth, the taste of his saliva, struck me numb. I moved my lips weakly, but he ended up doing most of the work.

He didn't mind. He liked being the one to take things one step further. To tug on my polo until it came out of my shorts. To run one paw under it, then the other, stroking the fur on my sides and feeling me quake. Again, I tried to copy him; my trembling paws hiked his t-shirt up just enough to meet fluff. But I was no good at it. Once I felt his fur, I couldn't move; I was frozen. I couldn't make him feel the same shock and quivering amazement that his caresses roused in me. Disbelief at the fact that another's paws were touching my body.

He was all soft fur and sleek slimness, not a pound out of place. He wasn't quite as muscular as I was, but I rather liked that. He helped me get his shirt off, mostly because I was too shy to do it on my own. He tried to show me it was all right to touch him. To want to touch him.

Damn, did I want to touch him.

I grew braver, slowly, but before I could dare go further, he halted the encounter with a soft peck on my nose. The dalmatian slid off the bed once more, and whispered, "Just a minute," with that small smile. He stood, eyes still peering at me from under his brows, and unzipped his jeans with a slow, sensuous gesture. I caught glimpses of gray elastic and teal cotton, and held my breath.

Daniel was taking his pants off in front of me. I'd seen guys in the locker room, disrobed there hundreds of times myself. But he knew I was watching; he was taking his clothes off for me, because I wanted to see it. I was salivating; I had to swallow twice. My cock was so hard I was afraid it would burst right out of my shorts.

He pulled his jeans down to his knees, tugged them off one leg at a time. I stared and stared. A canine my age was standing before me, in a pair of knit boxers that concealed enough to be decent, and yet revealed enough to make me blush. Faint bulges, and that tenting in the front... making the fly poke out just so, held closed by a single button. If that wasn't there...

I didn't think I'd ever been this hard in my life. My cock was all the way out of my sheath, throbbing mercilessly. It strained to break free of the fabric holding it in check, ready to surge out, ready to...

To do what? To fuck him? How could my subconscious have any idea what it wanted from this canine male? Surely it understood that Daniel wasn't able to bear me children; it was nonsensical, biologically, to... to do what? If it weren't for the things I'd heard, how would my body even know what was possible? Shouldn't my cock be as confused as my brain?

I swallowed hard. Yeah. My body wanted me to fuck him. I wanted to fuck him. I badly wanted to fuck him.

He came at me again, and I leaned back. Quickly, he was atop of me, we were kissing once more. I dared to touch his torso, stroke his back, hold him against me... and then I grew bolder and squeezed his ass, played with his tail. My eyes went to that thick bulge in his boxers whenever we parted for breath. I wanted to wrap my paw around it, but I wasn't that brave. Pulling his boxers off was entirely beyond my capacity, so much so that I couldn't even consider it.

I felt his paws reaching for my stomach, felt the sudden release as he undid the button of my shorts. A moment, and they were down at my ankles; he drew back. I looked up at him and watched his mouth move; he was asking me if I was sure I wanted this. I have no idea if I gave a coherent answer. But my mind was screaming... Yes. Yes!

There was a shock of cold, and that sensation helped clear my head. My eyes processed the image of his wrist, disappearing under the hem of my boxer-briefs. Gray cotton, now stretched over a long ridge and the shape of his paw. He grinned at my expression, tugging a little. "Big fella, aren't you?"

I blushed a little, breathing heavily; he pulled my dick out. It stuck up, throbbing, holding the waistband down easily. The end was slick, and matched a damp spot on the cloth. "It's not... not too big, is it?" I asked, a little scared; what if, just after I'd decided I wanted to, Daniel wouldn't let me fuck him?

Daniel shook his head earnestly, fervently. He lowered his head, murmuring in a sultry, quiet voice. "I love guys with great big thick cocks..." The last four words were abrupt, disjoint; sharp syllables with breathy pauses between. I could feel his exhale, following the last word. The warm breeze flowed around my shaft and made it twitch, oozing a little more precum.

I didn't realize he was kneeling until his head was between my legs, cold nose pressing up against my balls. He nuzzled a little, inhaling, and then dealt me a sharp lap with his tongue. I jumped slightly and my legs spread reflexively. He began to chuckle, and looked up at me... then returned to give another, softer lick, this one on the base of my rigid length. This one was more deliberate, enough so to make me moan. Loudly.

A couple more soft licks on the underside of my shaft. I struggled not to buck my hips into his face. My teeth were clenched. My cock pulsed hard, straining upwards as he verged onto the upper half. A couple slow, languid strokes just under the head drew another quiet moan from me, and my shaft began to twitch, weak jerks that I didn't recognize for what they were. Then, he gave me one gentle lap right on the tip, and my length stiffened. My eyes squinted as I inhaled, and I yelled something fierce, jerking my hips toward him. Pleasure surged through me, and I blew my load all over his face. My paws gripped the side of the bed as thick blasts of cum drizzled down over his muzzle and chest; he shut one eye as semen oozed over it.

After what felt like an eternity, I found myself watching my own half-hard penis dripping a steady trickle of cum onto the carpet. I was still gasping for breath, and making weak grunting noises each time the muscles between my legs clenched. I looked up at Daniel slowly, found the dalmatian regarding me with a wry grin. There were globs of cum in his headfur and streaked across his face. He wiped the goo out of his eye and opened it. My face was burning.

"...Sorry..." I muttered.

He tilted his head a little. "What for?"

"I... I know that was... awful quick."

He giggled a little, but it wasn't in a mean fashion. "A little, yeah. Took me by surprise."

"I don't... paw off... very much..." I said, in broken segments. I rubbed at the back of my neck, and mumbled, "And... and you're really hot, and it... it just happened..."

"It's okay," he replied, sitting up. "We've got all the time in the world." It wasn't strictly true; his little brother would be home in forty-five minutes. But, it was a sweet thing for him to say, and it made me feel somewhat better.

He crawled up onto the bed, running a paw through his sticky headfur. "You sure cum a lot."

I lay down beside him. It felt... nice. Lying like this, in just a shirt, and him in just his underwear, the remnants of the best orgasm I'd ever had still echoing powerfully in my stomach and crotch. I smiled hesitantly, and he returned the look in kind. His arms wrapped around me in a gentle hold.

He was ready to let me relax in the afterglow. It did feel nice, being held like that. But...

Shyly, I pawed at his hips, grabbed his boxers and gave them a little tug. "C-can I..."

A warm, wet feeling as his tongue met my face. "Course you can."

My fingers trembled as I tugged harder. The dalmatian boy kicked his underwear off. He gave me a little grin, rolling over onto his back and spreading his legs, tail flicking slowly between them. "You're so cute when you let your mouth hang open like that."

I closed it, blushing, but I couldn't stop myself from staring. "You're... the most beautiful thing I've ever seen..." I said, quietly, shyly. It wasn't hyperbole. He was like a statue, one of those classical pieces from before clothing was a necessary component of art. The sort of work that glorifies and worships the perfection of the body. It seemed almost wrong, to be aroused by such a sight. Surely no emotion as lewd and base as sexual desire could be applied to such a majestic display of beauty. And yet, despite the afterglow, I felt my cock twitch, stiffen halfheartedly. Satisfied a moment before, it seemed almost ready to reconsider, ready to make another valiant attempt at fucking this magnificent male.

Between his lean, muscled thighs, his sheath was thick and roughly furred, white except for one black fleck on the left side. I knew he wouldn't mind, but I couldn't keep myself from asking, "Can I..."

He nodded, giggling a little, as my paw brushed over his abdomen timidly. I touched him. Took a moment to curl my paw around his thick sheath. Let it sink in that I was holding another guy's junk. Let it sink in how good it felt. As soon as I cupped his balls in one paw, I could tell they were larger and heavier than mine. He shifted and moaned a little as I tugged on his sheath. He was poking out, just a little, small pink tip rising from fluffy white fur. I pulled and tugged and rubbed at him, and watched as he got harder.

"I want to make you cum..." I said. His cock twitched. He guided my paw to his sheath and squeezed gently, then pressed down, directing me to tug back. I pulled, and his knot slipped out, sheath caught up behind it. His shaft was shorter than mine, and a little thinner as well (excepting the knot); I liked the way it looked, the way it fit against his body. I curled my paw around his shaft and started to jack him off.

He groaned and put a paw on my wrist, stopping me. "Hold on..." he panted. "Not like that. You gotta use lube."

"Oh..." I said, embarrassed. I wasn't familiar with lube in the slightest, had never used anything but my own paws and a towel. "Should I, uh..."

He grinned, in a devious manner I recognized. "I got an idea." He ran his digits through his headfur again; thick strings of my cum stuck to them. It was a little embarrassing to see; I didn't think I'd blown quite that much. Still, I scooped it off his paw and smeared it onto his throbbing shaft, and it was more than enough to make him slick. He quivered as I rubbed it around, and then grunted as I started to pump my fist slowly.

"Is that better?" I asked, awkwardly.

He nodded firmly, and I curled my tongue in concentration. He felt so strange in my paw... mostly shorter than what I was used to holding, but smoother, too. More curves, and that pointy head. And, of course, his knot, pressing against my fist when it came down. After a while, he began to hump slightly into my paw, oozing precum over it.

"A-am I doing it right?" I asked nervously, slowing my strokes a little.

"Yeah... You're doing it beautifully..." he moaned, voice soft. "Here, lube me up again... And go a little faster..."

I gulped and scooped some precum off of my digits. Slid my slick paw back over his penis and began whacking him off more quickly. He moaned loudly and synced his thrusts to mine, so that his knot collided with my fist with each stroke. I loosened my lower digits a little so that it could force its way into my palm. Oh boy, did he like that. His precum was squirting out weakly, and his balls were pulling up close to his body.

"Still... wanna... make me cum?" he grunted.

"Y-yeah..." I stammered, looking at his face earnestly.

"I think... you're gonna..." His paw grabbed my free one and pressed it against his swollen knot. "Squeeze here... tight... And go fast..."

I squeezed gingerly, afraid of hurting him. And then a little harder. And harder. I watched his face as I tightened my grip.

It began to screw up, eyes squinting and mouth forming a grimace. "A-ahh-ah... Cripes..." he grunted, and then yelped, loudly, squirting precum. Abruptly, the fluid became creamy white and thick, and Daniel let out a long, quiet whimper.

It was a low noise, one that made the back of my neck prickle; a noise I wanted to listen to over and over. It would echo in my mind before I fell asleep, tonight and every night, a reminder of something fundamentally right with the world. Something as beautiful as him... simply ought to have cause to make a noise as beautiful as that.

I wanted to be that cause.

I watched him cum, kept stroking gently until he was finished. He lay there gasping, spread-eagled, and I curled up beside him and held him the way he had begun to hold me earlier. I was hard again. He snuggled against me, smiling, seeming to enjoy the feeling of it jabbing him in the diaphragm.

"That was... amazing..." he mumbled at me, exhausted. "That was really, really good. I haven't felt that good since..." he trailed off, shook his head slightly. "Can't remember..."

I found myself shy again, holding a naked boy in my arms. "Good... Um... Daniel?"

He slitted his eyes open, and gave me a gentle lick on the nose. It was an affectionate gesture, as was the look in his eyes. That bolstered my confidence enough to murmur, "Does this... does this mean we're... boyfriends?"

He considered me for a long moment. "Do you want to be?" he asked at last, with a little nuzzle.

I nodded, rather harder than I meant to. "Un... unless... you'd rather be just friends..."

His paws came up and curled around my ears. My mind went blank; I simply breathed, and we kissed.

When he drew back, he replied, "I'd rather not be just friends..."

I smiled and licked his nose tentatively.

"I've wanted to be with you... for a very long time, James..." he breathed.

"So have I," I replied quietly. "I'm just... glad you showed me... That it was okay, to want that."

He smiled, and we held each other for what felt like a short time. The sun faded in and out behind the clouds, sending orange-yellow glints flickering through his fur.

Far too soon, we were disturbed by the sound of the front door. Daniel sighed.

"That'll be the brat," he grumbled.

I watched him pull his boxers back on. How a figure so gorgeous could hide beneath jeans and a t-shirt, as the days of high school come and go, was a mystery to me.

"Hey, brat! I'm up here, kay? Leave me alone, I'm hangin' out with a friend."

"Why're you hangin' out wif no pants on?" came a whining voice.

Daniel sighed, and I snickered behind him. "You'll understand when you're older."

And then he shut the door, locked it once again, and came back to me. He lay beside me and let me hold him. And I felt like I'd done something right.

This is one of the most heavily-polished pieces of writing I've ever produced. It began life as a Group spinoff, for one reason and one reason only: I like dalmatians. Group draws a spiritual inspiration from Teiran's epic (in both length and quality) High School Days, and my favorite character by a hair in that saga has always been Kevin. Unfortunately, I keep a very tight leash on Group in terms of what I can emulate from HSD, and how strongly, and as much as I'd like it, an adorable, affectionate, emotionally-damaged dalmatian is far too risky to stick into Group, unless I want to start calling it HSD Ctrl-V.

So, this is a standalone, though you may presume it happens in the same world as Group, possibly in a different city. I have rewritten and revised this more times than anything else I have ever done - It began as a dreamy, loquacious experiment in present tense. I then rewrote it in past, and combined it with another unfinished fragment that I had lying around, but I lost some of the lovely prose and dreamy feeling, so I had to go back and revise it thoroughly again. Then, my good friend jhwgh1968 (who I have now linked twice) bravely embarked on a journey to help me rein in my verbose tendencies, to make my writing concise and powerful, and cruelly ordered me to cut a 5000+ word story down to 3500 words. It took five full revisions, but I succeeded! Then did another five revisions integrating the changes I had made over the course of the reduction, putting back in sentences I missed, cutting out ones that were unnecessary. Finally, I did one last full revision to fix some of the choppy feeling that came from all that cutting and pasting. Phew!

It was worth it, though. Goes to show that the longer you spend hacking and slaving at a manuscript, the better it will turn out.