FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The smell of his leather was stifling, suffocating even as he pressed himself against me. My paws took to their own agenda, scoping out his bared chest and stomach, running along the grooves that had formed through sweat and hard work. He was intoxicating, and possessing as he took my mouth against his own. His tongue wrought around mine, teasing it and toying with my taste. It was a bitter but welcome flavour, and it lingered on in mouth as he broke off, breath heady and hot. It swirled into smoke as the cool night air coiled about us, and I was left trapped. I was pressed against a cold brick wall, unfeeling and rough, and then held there by his weight, his touch of opposite design. It was gentle, yet powerful, and took what it desired. He had me by my strings, and he played with me like any other puppet.

He drew his head back, just enough for me to look up at him with anxious eyes. Alistair McDermott, the school jock, the king of the bullies, gazed down upon me with a ravenous look sparkling just behind his pupils. The dark blue of his iris was unfathomable and almost disconcerting as he pressed the palm of his paw against the wall, over my right shoulder and inches from my head. It was domineering, I know, and by this point I was just putty in his paws to him. Who would have thought that a simple note passed to me in class demanding I meet him here after school behind the bike shed would lead to this? I might have groaned at the cliché were my voice under my own command and if I had my composure back. Until Alistair let up and decided to give me a break, I doubt I would even make a squeak of complaint. My shock of not being caught up in some childish brawl was only superseded by the fact that Alistair now had me planted firmly in a position I couldn't escape from, and was finally indulging me in my most sordid of fantasies. To be screwed by the toughest guy I knew.

He was an astounding specimen. By all biological terms, he would not just survive in the 'survival of the fittest' scheme, he would flourish. Tonight he had dressed for the occasion, in his torn denim jeans and with his crisp leather jacket, so he exposed as much muscle as he could. He was a prime stallion, a powerful looking Friesian with a rich sooty black coat. Being of the same species, I felt somewhat inadequate in his presence, being only a humble Morgan horse. I was more diminutive in stature, whilst Alistair came from a line of diligent draft horses. It certainly showed, and my thoughts often strayed to the notion of what else might be bigger about him down there.

I needn't have wondered longer. Without so much as breathing a word, he pushed down with a strong paw on the top of my head, making me buckle to my knees with the force. The concrete dug at my knee caps through the thin fabric of my trousers, but I ignored the discomfort and allowed myself to become as comfortable as was possible. It seemed like I was the perfect height, as the bridge of my muzzle fit snugly in between his legs, my nose running along where I assumed his ball sack would be. The smell now was beyond belief. It was stronger than just potent, and I forcibly had to hold myself back from inhaling too much in fear I'd deprive myself of oxygen. I soaked him in by the lungful, and that paw remained on my head, pushing and grinding his crotch into my face, washing me in leathery musk. His other paw eventually joined my cheek, stroking it and cupping my chin, making sure to get the angle just right before he prised out the zip to his fly. The sound rang in my ears as the teeth ground against each other; the sound sealed the deal. There would be no turning back now. I'd passed the event horizon and was now about to be faced with the object of my fantasies.

His jeans gave way, the tightness falling slack as the zip became undone. Each side peeled away to reveal the sweaty crotch beneath. Alistair was wearing a jockstrap; it smelt like he'd worn it for at least a few days now. My mind was oblivious to its actions as I leant forwards, encouraged by the stallion's paw, and lapped along the rough underwear. The taste was bitter, as much as I expected it to be, but I couldn't stop worshipping it, and continue I did with my licking. After minutes more of my tongue working against his musky jockstrap was I finally rewarded with what I yearned for. Alistair pulled down his underwear, letting his thick meat flop out and slap against my cheek with a heavy thump. I could feel its heat, the radiating warmth soaking my skin. I didn't want to look at it, not just yet. I wanted for now just to feel its power, its majestic size and strength just resting against my face, pressed so close. A tool that could make any women cower, to make any man moan, to stretch a hole unto its command... and here it was nuzzled against my cheek. Its blunt head tapped against my nape, the mere weight of the manhood forcing it to arch downward. It was mesmerizingly hot.

Slowly, breaking away from the kisses I was delivering to Alistair's crotch, I leant back to finally view this monster. It was a dark black colour, a wonderful obsidian shade that seemed to glint in the dulled light. Dribbles of pre were already smothered round that fat head, and it smeared down along his length to give it a mighty glistening look. But the size... The size was the most impressive. It was as thick as a can, and currently seemed to measure about a foot in length. He wasn't all that hard, but I doubted that to reach full hardness was a challenge for him. All that blood that had to pump into his organ, to make it swell... It must take great levels of arousal, and unsuppressed lust and wanton need.

"Suck it, faggot." He growled, pressing my lips against that head of his. The name was unnecessary, but it cemented my place. I was his. His faggot, and for now I would serve him when he wanted; I wouldn't deny him. Not unless I wanted to be exposed to everyone for my sexuality. That would be suicide. Whilst the words were supposed to be malicious, I knew there was no harshness behind them. He just didn't know what else to call me. I wasn't 'Chris' to him. We had never spoken really until today. I was off his radar - I was nobody to him, and I would remain on the edge of his radar for the entire time at school. He was the top dog, and I was the omega. He only wanted to keep me quiet, to stop me from telling anybody about his dirty little secret. The secret we shared, that we were both gay. He was only indulging in his dark side the only way he knew how; through bullying, and with force. I wasn't complaining. If this was what made him comfortable, then fine by me.

He tasted as I expected him to - earthy and rank. It drove me wild, though I couldn't understand why. Normally men with less than adequate hygiene made me retch, but here I was suckling on probably a cock that hadn't been washed for a week with an erection growing in my pants. Deeper it went into my mouth, the flesh feeling tender and firm to my tongue, and I let him slide himself further into me until his thick pubic fur mashed itself against my nose. I snuffled against him, breathing in that heady scent as his length throbbed down my throat. Resisting the urge to gag and choke, he held me there, grunting and moaning at the sensation of massaging ripples against his member. I feared he might just suffocate me, keep me trapped between his thighs as he choked me on his own cock, but just as my lungs were about to burn up he let me go, allowing me to catch my breath. I sucked in a lungful or two of the stale air between us, the chill of the evening crawling along my fur. Once more he pushed me down along his length when he'd deemed I'd had enough time to breathe. This time he fucked my mouth, his meat sliding in and out of my throat as if he were fucking any regular hole. He held my head between his paws, keeping his pace steady but slow so as to not rush anything and ruin the moment by making me cough and splutter. I could feel the gradual push and pull of his hips as the cock glided through my mouth, feeling it work itself along the walls of its confines and spurt pre along my gullet.

He was getting close. You could feel the strain building in his thighs, where he was drawing the strength from to stop himself from just letting loose on my muzzle and pounding my face into a pulp. He was staving off his orgasm, holding back to save himself. I knew he would want more. A blowjob can be given off anybody, male or female, and I had been waiting for the next step. Carefully, he pulled back his crotch, that fat cock slipping from my lips. It dribbled with my spit, that ebony length ready for another intrusion. He didn't say much. I guess there was no need for words as he manhandled me. I felt my face pushed against the bare brick, scratched by its coarseness as he held me there with his weight. A heavy paw fumbled with my zip before yanking down my trousers, and all I could to muster my protests was writhe back against him, moaning as he nibbled along my exposed neck. His fingers slipped into my boxers, pulling them down until my clothes were cast around my ankles, leaving me naked from the waist down. The warmth from his dick now pulsed into the crevice of my cheeks. He was so close, and so powerful.

With bated breath I waited, feeling his paw get a good grip of his cock, smearing the pre and spit along my hole with that blunt head of his. I was no stranger to anal; I had often spent many a night fingering myself, using what I could afford and keep well hidden to explore my body. A small butt plug or two, nothing quite as serious as the size of a prized stallion draft, but I had some experience thankfully. At least the pain barrier was diminished, and with a sharp hiss I felt that dulled burn as he began to push his member into me. Wincing, I felt my hole stretch, widening itself at too fast a rate to avoid damage from the entry. But Alistair was persistent, and he refused to let up, not until my ring popped over that large flare. I groaned, almost cried out in a peculiar mix of pleasure and agony, but his fingers found their way into my mouth, the index and the ring fingers pushing past the lips and keeping my free hole busy. His arm was snaked around my neck, and his other paw trailed down to tease and toy at my straining manhood. I hadn't touched myself all this time, wondering how long I might hold out until something inside me gave in. My hips jerked as those strangely delicate fingers wrapped around my head, encircling it between forefinger and thumb, twisting side to side and milking out long strands of pre that pooled onto the floor and my clothes.

My ass was still complaining with the too large object now filling me, and the sharp jolts continued to crawl up my spine as he began to push inwards, pressing in deeper as that cock found a home within my gut. His head bulged and stabbed at my prostate, making me buck my hips again into his waiting grasp. It wasn't fair; he was fucking me into masturbation, and he was holding me on the brink. His strong grasp made sure I couldn't fight back, or push back onto him. He made sure he was in control, to go at his pace and not mine. More and more was slid into my sore ass, pushed right up until his balls rode against mine. He had passed that sweet nut deep inside of me, and now the length of his shaft flattened it, rolling it around and making me moan quietly against his paw. Now came the fucking. He wasted no time in setting his speed. He drew out and rammed in quickly, driving into me like he would a well-used mare. The last virtues of my virginity weren't something he cared for, and I had to quickly get used to the size and strength for fear I might hurt a part of myself. Those thick inches slid in and out, and I could feel him encasing me, and filling me. His touch was all over, and as he fucked me I was pushed forward into his grip. He jacked me off slowly, purposefully keep me standing to attention with every nerve in my body focused on him. So focused I was on him, I swore I could sense every part of him that consumed me. The smell that enfolded me, the heat of his body against mine, the world and reality so far away from what he was doing to me; I could feel myself so close and ready to shoot, but I was forced to wait. Clearly he wanted to go first, to make sure he was satisfied above all else.

My oral work before had done its trick though, and once again his thighs were cramping up. He became savage with his thrusts, practically smashing his groin into my ass each time, riding me against the wall, my cock trapped between my shirt and the bricks. Three, four, five more times he slammed his full length into my, from head to base, before he came into me. He exploded like a dam bursting, and thick gushes of seed shot into my abused hole. For the final few spurts he pulled out, letting his cum pour down my inside leg and across my balls, shooting the last of his load over my cheeks to mark his territory. Pathetically, from having been denied the pleasure of a mutual orgasm, from being prolonged for too long, I stroked my dick furiously with one paw whilst the other fingered my cum-slick ass. I longed to retain the sensation, knowing he was watching me weak display with much enjoyment. I came within seconds, shooting my loads against the wall, smearing the red bricks with gloopy strands of off-white horse cum. I heard him smirk, then watched him zip himself away and leave me there knelt on the floor with cum dripping from my ass and cock.

He didn't even say thanks. Part of me demanded that I would never think to do such an act again, that being exposed as gay would allow me to keep my dignity. But part of me knew, that even deeper down, that if I got another note passed to me again then I would not fail to show up.