FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

*

After a quick shower, I wrapped a Velcro-edged towel around my waste into a kind of a loincloth and then walked over to the kitchen, where, I discovered, Kurt was preparing some coffee. I watched his tail swing for a moment, from the doorway, and felt my own flick the air more tensely as I wondered about him. I'd just told him about my past, and he hadn't really told me his full opinion on the topic, despite my best attempts back in the bed...and now we were here, and he was measuring some tofu coffee into my coffeemaker and gently rumbling to himself like he often did.

"I felt like a warm drink," he said by the way of explanation from behind the kitchen island, "I'm making enough for both of us."

"Thanks," I rumbled from the doorway.

He finished up with the little paper bags containing the coffee grounds and dropped them off to the counter before he closed the top and hit the power switch. Seemingly pleased, with his ears flicking about, he waited until the coffeemaker let out its first characteristic gurgle.

"Anything you'd like to eat with the coffee?" Kurt asked. "Do you have something sweet around? I could make do with some."

I scowled a little with puzzlement, but held on.

"I've got chocolate pudding in the fridge," I said.

"Great!" he smiled. "Do you have any biscuits or something? We could put some pudding in bowls and crumble some biscuits in to make it all nice and crunchy."

What the hell...

"Behind you, left cupboard," I said, "bowls are in the bigger cabinet over the sink, the right one."

His tailtip flipped the air somewhere behind his shoulderblades.

"Right!" he said. "Why don't you sit down and I'll mix some up."

Feeling puzzled and sidelined still, I stalked over to the table and sulked there while Kurt did his thing in the kitchen, taking out bowls, spooning out chocolate pudding from the big tub (so I do have my moments, too, can't always stick to the salad, lol!) and then crumbling in some of the oat biscuits and then mixing it into a kind of a makeshift desert that had him purring by the time he carried the bowls over and placed one in front of me.

"Coffee in a second," he said.

"Yeah," I said.

I'm a bit of a traditionalist when it comes to my coffee, and even though the colored version and the "natural" brands of tofu coffee taste the same, I preferred mine looking like the real deal, and hence I soon had a mug full of rather nice-smelling brew in front of me, next to the bowl of crumbling chocolate with a spoon sticking out of it. I couldn't help but feel my maw water a little, even as Kurt sat down opposite to me and began to stir his own coffee to let it cool down a little.

"Well, here we are," Kurt said as he brought up his spoon and lapped up some coffee from it...slowly...I might say... "In the porn kitchen."

My eyes practically bulged out of their sockets. I was glad I didn't have anything in my muzzle, otherwise I'd likely splattered it all over the table. Kurt's eyes appeared sharpish, and he wasn't exactly smiling, but the corners of his muzzle seemed to be twitching a little in what could've been the beginnings of one.

I growled, and my tail smacked against the floor.

"Kurt..."I groaned.

He put his spoon down and kept looking at me, serious now.

"How much porn does one have to make to be able to afford a place like this?" he said. "It doesn't pay that good does it now?"

What the fuck was this obsession with money all sudden? Did he think that I was a secret millionaire or something? I knew he didn't have a shoddy income himself...I'd seen his apartment and its gadgets, and how he always insisted on buying when we were going out...it's not like he'd need someone to support him or his lifestyle...but now he was...talking about money...weird.

I shook my head a little and felt my paws curl into fists, under the table, against my lap.

"It varied a lot," I said, "but I made enough to buy this place."

I might as well go all the way, I thought.

"It's all that's left," I said, "everything else is gone. It wasn't exactly a career or a lifestyle that encouraged one to spare too much for your...post-professional years."

I huffed.

"When I was on the top, I did make quite a lot," I said, "but it was hard work. Lots of filming and lots of public appearances and travelling and working out to keep in shape so that they'd still want me to work for them. It wasn't just having fun on camera, you know."

His ears flipped back and forth.

"I know it's a performance, yes," he said, "it must be. Nobody has sex like they show it on film, after all."

Well he was dam right about that.

"I'm not performing when I'm with you," I said, my voice going softer than before.

He shrugged.

"I didn't suspect."

My ears drooped.

"Just that you know."

"Oh, I know," he began to stir his chocolate pudding with a slow motion.

"Good," I huffed.

"Though that thing you do with your asshole, that squeezing thing..." he said, matter of fact.

The insides of my ears almost turned red when he said that. I cleared my throat.

"Not even that," I grunted.

"Oh," he sounded like he was trying to sound innocent.

"Any tricks I learned for porn, they were meant to make it look hotter on the cameras and make it easier for the performers," I said, "not to make it feel extra good. That'd been counter-productive."

Kurt picked up his mug into his fluffy paws and took a sip. He smacked his lips afterwards in approval of the taste.

"I'd imagine so," he said, "I mean, the average coitus lasts for about...what...three minutes, and it can go on for thirty on those videos...obviously there's something going on..."

"Lots of breaks," I offered, "numbing creams, sometimes, and sometimes transparent cock rings, to hide them from the camera. And lots of humping, too."

"Hmm?" he flicked an ear.

"Well..." I rumbled, "whenever you don't actually see the...uh...well, the dick going in and out, it's often just faked. Just humping..."

"Doesn't surprise me," he mused.

"That's just one side of it," I continued, feeling relief that he didn't seem to be...too badly weirded out...or at least didn't sound like it, by far, "that's what is done to keep them from popping too quickly. The stuff that's done to keep the shy ones hard..."

"Ohh you must tell," he flicked his tailtip against my ankles, under the table, which almost made me squirm. "I've always wanted to build up some more endurance."

Not like he didn't make up for it with his feline capacity for near-instant reloads...*cough-cough*

"Well..." I scratched my muzzle, "nitro injections for the really shy ones...the usual pills...fluffers..."

"What's a fluffer?"

"Someone on the set who performs sexual acts upon the performers to keep them aroused or in the mood during the breaks," I replied matter-of-fact.

"Oh, right," he said.

"Then there's cock rings, indeed, and butt plugs, because some furs stay harder with some prostate stimulation...and then there's there are the pheromone sprays...especially the straight guys use those."

He flicked an ear.

"Straight guys?"

"You always got some gay for pay performers," I replied, "they sometimes needed something that smelled like a girl's pussy to keep them going."

Bleeeeehhhh.

"So it's not just an urban legend?"

"Nope," I shook my head, "as far as I know, I did it with a lot of guys who had girlfriends and even families."

"I really thought it was just because some guys find the idea hot," he mused.

I guess he didn't...or maybe he did, and didn't want to confess...

"There is that, too," I said, "the marketing aspect and all that."

"Of course," he said.

Bah...I still didn't really know what he was thinking...sure, we talked about it now, but there were just the kind of questions anyone would ask when confronting a porn star...nothing new about them to me, at least. I didn't know about him, though...he probably hasn't had this kind of a meeting before...and it had to be me.

I drank my coffee and enjoyed the strong taste, despite my churning stomach and my nervous disposition towards the calm-looking snow leopard sitting in front of me and playing with a spoonful of chocolate pudding. If I wasn't feeling like this, I might've found it kinda hot...maybe mimicked him...

"Yeah," I said.

A moment passed before we spoke again.

"So what was your stage name?" he said. "Something like...Dong Dickson or...Randy Romper?"

I chuckled a little. Dong Dickson...nice one...though I didn't want to mention that I was pretty sure that I had actually worked with a Randy Romper at some point or another.

I cleared my throat.

"I started out as Lance Logan," I said, "I did that for about...ten years? And then I did the rest of my career under the name of Benny Thicker."

He appeared thoughtful, probably going through a mental catalogue of porn faces in his mind...trying to see if mine fit somewhere, no matter how obscure a memory...I kinda hoped he wouldn't.

"Why the name change?" he said. "Got bored or...?"

"Re-branding," I said, "kinda wanted a fresh start, so a new stage name helped with that."

"Didn't think about just quitting?"

I tensed, briefly, before I shook my head.

"Not at the time, yet, no," I said.

"Okay," he said.

I got the idea that maybe he wasn't so okay...but decided not to pick on it. Instead we concentrated on the snacks he made. It was so damn sweet...just like him.