FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Blake sprawled in the tub for a while, the energy slowly returning to him, watching Jack stretching his long, lithe body, showing off the tawny blond hairs streaking all over his torso, his cock bobbing half-hard under the hot stream.

"Christ," Blake swore, "you're still hard?"

Jack paused from rubbing the two lumps pushing out of the skin at his temples, and glanced down. "Sort of," he agreed with a shrug, "I think it's just a semi from the warm water at the moment. I'll probably be ready to go again pretty soon if you want."

Blake grinned, "Thanks, but I think I'm good. Plus George is giving me a tour later." Eyeing the huge, stretched sack dangling between Jack's legs, he added to himself, "No wonder the he fucks like an animal with those fat balls."

Pushing into the water, Blake got back on to two feet, his own cock still slightly engorged. "Must be the warm water," he rationalised, before stepping out on to the wooden area above a drain just outside the main shower area.

In the other room, he heard George's slightly muffled voice call out, "Blake? You still in the shower?"

Turning to give Jack a knowing grin, Blake answered, "I'm just drying off, be out in a sec." Grabbing a warm, fluffy towel from the heated towel rack, Blake quickly rubbed it all over his body before wrapping it around his waist and returning to the bedroom.

George was standing in the door, still in his robe and boxers and looking as hot as ever. Blake's cock, even after the work-out it was still recovering from, twitched in excited anticipation. "You left the shower running," George observed wryly.

"Jack's in there," Blake answered.

George noted, "Is he?" Blake's mind was still a bit fuzzy, and couldn't tell if George was amused or making a dangerous implication. "I can come back later if you're not ready?"

Blake shook his head, "No, I'm ready for the tour now."

"Out in a towel?" George asked incredulously.

"Oh, right," Blake grinned, tossing the towel to one side. He froze for half a second - something he couldn't quite put his finger on had confused him - but George was waiting and he walked around the bed. "Ready," he iterated.

George pursed his lips, then shrugged, "When in Rome, I suppose. Okay, well, upstairs are the bedrooms and en suite bathrooms. They're all more or less the same, except for mine, for obvious reasons."

"Is it bigger?" Blake inquired, stretching to give him a secret chance to thrust his crotch out in George's general direction.

"Only a little," George noted, "but it seems bigger because there's only one bed in there." They walked out into the corridor; as they started down the staircase, Blake instantly regretted not asking George to divert the tour to his bedroom.

George, however, was quite eager to play host. "There's a few rooms downstairs," he explained, "but we can leave those for later. No point in staying cooped up inside when it's such a lovely day." Blake only nodded in agreement before tailing George back out into the kitchen.

The room was livelier than the first time Blake had passed through. It smelled of freshly-cooked breakfasts once again: Eric had been busy cooking for the small harem of young, hot men, naked men George had collected.

"Hey guys," George announced, punctuating with an echoing clap to grab the room's attention, "if you haven't already met him yet, this is Blake." Answered by grunts, waves, and more discernible greetings, George proceeded to introduce the island's current residents individually to the newest member. He pointed out, "That, as you could probably guess, is Giuliano." Blake nodded in response, giving a wave in response. He'd already done a double take when he'd seen the dark, buff, hairy Italian posing in the sun by the window: the long, fat, round thing nestling in his black, bushy pubes was not, in fact, a large soda bottle.

George continued, "The guy sketching him is our resident artist, Simon Phelan." Blake, having spent a fair amount of time in poorer areas, had run into a lot of artists, and knew a little of what to expect. Simon seemed almost understated in comparison with some of the more esoteric members of his profession, with a single piercing in each ear and natural brown hair, but the glinting metal ring glinting in the light on the tip of his aroused cock suggested he was pretty damn adventurous when he wanted to be.

"Hi, Blaine," Simon muttered, waving his pencil-holding hand in greeting before it swiftly returned to the page of his sketchbook.

"Forgive him for being rude," George explained, "he's in 'the zone'."

"Ah," Blake nodded. Although he wasn't an expert, the sketch was coming out pretty well; so well, in fact, Blake started getting a little bit harder. What Simon missed in photorealism, he made up for in emphasising the fuck out of the hotness of his subject. Blake hoped Simon had done a sketch of George.

The next pair of men George introduced Blake to were over by an empty space on the kitchen counter. One, a tall, muscular Asian guy, was demonstrating some impressive gymnastic balancing skills, strong arms supporting him as he scissor-kicked his feet on either side of the tall, lanky African's head.

"These two are Nathaniel Conteh and Huang Jun," George said, accenting the latter's name, before adding, "though you can call him John if you like. It's better than mispronouncing his name." Blake shook Nathaniel's hand and, after he had dismounted the counter, John's. Their grips were firm, and each gave him a nod and a smile.

Blake could only give each of them a quick ogling: George was getting impatient on introducing him to the rest of his guests. Nathaniel's slender, dark skin was scarred with pink gashes that criss-crossed over his body, his tan eyes were filled with a fierce intensity. John seemed far more carefree, clearly willing to show off and flirt; his anatomy seemed to reflect this, because although his dick was average-sized - modest, considering the company - his balls hung low, large and round.

George explained, "They're interning with me over the summer, learning about international business law before heading back to Oxford. And I know what young, gay men are like, and since I want them working for me when they get out, I'd rather be in control of any 'youthful indiscretions'."

"Just how 'in control' are we talking?" Blake joked suggestively. Having recovered from the great fuck he'd had earlier, Blake's cock was bobbing erect as he walked naked through the kitchen.

"Shush, you!" George grumbled. "You've met Ivan earlier," he continued, nodding to the huge Slavic guy whose large hands were gripping the ass of a skinny, blonde twink feeding him one of Eric's sausages. "The guy in his lap is -"

He was cut off when the twink, noticing he was getting more attention, tilted his face back to look at George and the 'new guy'. "Leon O'Keith," he purred slightly nasally, "very pleased to meet you."

"Hi," Blake replied, staring at Leon's smooth ass, enjoying Ivan spreading the cheeks apart, "nice to meet you."

"And of course you know me!" Eric sing-songed with a grin, sweating over the stove as he pulled out a set of hash browns to help feed the roused naked army that had invaded the kitchen.

"Is that everybody?" Blake asked. It was going to be pretty hard to keep all of the new names, faces and bodies squared up in his head.

"I don't see Manuel, but you saw him earlier," George replied, tapping his chin in thought. "I think that just leaves Peter and Gary." To the whole group, he inquired, "Anyone know where they are?"

Uncharacteristically, it was Ivan that answered. "Manuel went to watch Peter in the pool."

"Okay, after we finish off this floor, we'll head out there," George decided. "Peter will be a while. And we're bound to run into Gary at some point, if he's up and around."

George guided Blake into the dining room: the long table, surrounded by over a dozen identical chairs, was bare. The windows looked out into a small grassy area trimmed by a stone path nearest to the house, and the trees encircling it. The centre of the grass contained a water feature: a miniature waterfall fed into a fish pond, bright orange fish swimming around lazily inside it. "Obviously this is the dining room," George stated, "Things are pretty informal usually, so people just eat when they feel like it, though we all usually have dinner together. Eric usually cooks a big breakfast, so people tend to head down then."

Two doors led out of the dining room, one at each end of the table; George guided Blake towards the leftmost door. It opened into a well-stocked bar, leather seating and plenty of places to settle down and relax. "There's a bathroom over there," George said, pointing at a door to the left, slightly hidden behind a large television mounted to hang from the ceiling, "while the other door's basically a fire exit. We - well, usually the other guys - usually come in here after the dinner dishes are done and there's nothing else to do. There's usually a fair bit of drinking, dancing and debauchery. This room's soundproofed, thankfully."

Blake nodded, following George as they cut across the dining room to the other door. This seemed to be a more business-oriented room: a smart whiteboard, expensive-looking chairs and various other conferencing equipment was stacked up in an area that would usually be hidden by a long, sliding wooden door that had been left open, and a large, heavy conference table had been pulled to one side. The room had been converted into a games room: the lectern had been filled with various gaming consoles, and a couple of pairs of couches had been hijacked from some other room.

"There's few more serious rooms downstairs for security reasons," George reiterated, "the library, the art gallery, as well as my offices and labs, but that can wait. The last room you should be familiar with."

Behind the lectern, a door led into a well-equipped gym: a couple of treadmills and stationary cycles, a rowing machine, a well-stocked dumbbell stand and set of free weights, yoga mats and exercise balls, as well as a variety of the more standard weight machines. Off in the corner, from a wall hung various rackets, ball and shuttlecock containers, and other sports equipment. The room gave a spectacular view of the pool area: Blake spotted a vigorously swimming figure splashing and turning, being watched by the large, hulking figure he recognised as Manuel.

"I should probably warn you," George stated plaintively, "Peter's father is one of my major investors, and is on the board. So just be very careful if you get involved with him." Blake nodded in comprehension, and George walked through the door to stand by the side of the pool.

Peter was busy practising his butterfly stroke, the agitated pool water bobbing up and down. The two opposite ends of the pool between which Peter swam were splattered with warm, quickly-evaporating water. Manuel's thick foreskin had pulled back, showing off the slick, dark-brown tip as he stood naked, legs wide apart and hands braced on his hips.

Realising that he had company, Peter finished his lap before launching himself out of the pool. His head and chest, covered with short, recently-shaved hairs, glistened as water trailed off of him. "Got a new play-thing, George?" he asked, a cocky grin plastered over his face.

"This is Blake Carpenter," George introduced. "I used to be his swim coach when he was a kid."

Blake gritted his jaw, thinking, "Fucking hell, just get past that and fuck me already."

Peter noted, "Not a kid now, though."

George coughed, and answered, "No, I guess not."

"Not much of a swimmer now, either," Peter observed, "not with that build. Do you like them that way, George? A big, dumb jock that you can boss around? Or just someone that you know you can control?"

Blake clenched his jaw and his fist, only George's presence keeping him from lashing out. "What a fucking asshole!" he thought.

Peter seemed to pick up on this, and sneered, "I bet you couldn't keep your hands off of him then, either. You know, Blake, if you sued him you'd get quite a bit of money out of him."

"Always lovely talking to you, Peter", George interrupted drily. "We don't want to intrude on your training, so..."

"Oh, I'm done for today," Peter replied. "Unless you've got something to teach me. Then again, looking at your latest boy-toy, you weren't that good of a teacher. Then again, I guess that all comes down to what exactly you were teaching him. Maybe I should tag along and see what you two are up to."

"Oh, I'm sure you have more interesting things to get up to," George stated. "Manuel, for instance."

"Been there, done that," Peter snarked.

"Great," Blake replied, finally having enough, and taking Manuel's and George's hands. "Then you won't mind if he joins us on the tour. See you later." Feeling satisfied at the slightly shocked eye-narrowing Peter gave them as he pulled them away from the pool's edge.

"You didn't have to do that," Manuel answered.

"No," Blake replied, "but it felt good, and that's the whole point of being here, right?"

George snorted, stifling a laugh. Walking past the front of the house, he added after he heard a splash, "I really want to send him home. He's been trying to get into my pants, and has been a sulky little shit about me turning him down. But his father's an important colleague, so that's not going to happen."

They walked through the garden, Manuel pointing out a few of the plants: as it happened, Manuel was, aside from the island's gardener, an amateur botanist that George was willing to finance. "Does this have anything to do with the lube?" Blake asked.

George and Manuel glanced at each other, with George asking, "Did you hear about that from Jack?"

"Uh, yeah," Blake replied. "I didn't realise you were getting into that kind of thing, but you seem to be collecting quite a few people who might be helpful in that area."

"Off the record," George implored, "I'm working on a lubricant that should - fingers crossed - revolutionize the sex industry. One that can replace condoms and Viagra, without the need for a prescription."

"George invited me over here to look at some of the island's flora," Manuel added. "There was a cool little apple tree growing here that he wanted me to try to cross-pollinate with others."

"The Italians decoded the apple genome a few years ago," George answered. "The fruit and trees have some unique properties, and I used it as a basis for the lube."

"Neat," mumbled Blake. All this talk about sex had reminded him his own cock needed attention. He grunted; his cock aching erect.

"We've been using it for a while, when it passed some very basic human trials," George explained.

He continued talking, but Blake didn't really pay attention: it had been an hour, two hours tops since he and Jack had fucked in the shower, but it felt like he hadn't fucked in a week. George's musky odour was vibrating off of him, making Blake shake despite the heat. Manuel's huge cock was raring to go as well, and the warm, huge Latino's body was standing so unbearably far away despite them standing next to each other.

They were about to walk into the orchard, filled with the apple trees the two had been proud of, when Jack came running up. "George, phone's for you," he blurted out, panting heavily.

"Shit," George swore. "Sorry, Blake. I think that's about it for the tour. I'll catch up with you afterwards."

Blake sighed, stating, "It's fine," even though it wasn't: he wanted to jump George's bones. George waved farewell, passing beside Jack who joined Blake and Manuel in the orchard.

Grinning, he brought out a bottle of lube he'd been hiding behind his back. "Everyone else is occupied," he explained pointedly, "and I'm ready for round two."

Blake looked at Manuel, and the two grinned at each other: there wasn't any words needed to let each other know they were all ready to fuck, with their cocks throbbing hard and erect. Jack's cock was even dripping with pre-ejaculate already the moment he sniffed the pheromones the other two guys were giving off.

The bottle of lube got passed between them: each of them dolloping a bunch onto each hand, gently caressing their shafts, quivering as the chemicals in the fluid tingled as they went to work. Blake's cock was almost too hot, blood surging through his length, turning his tip a deep red. Fingers gently slid over, and then into, their assholes, making them slick and hungry for a long, thrusting cock to slide in, jab their prostates, and fill their guts with hot, creamy jizz.

Blake was still slicking up his asshole when Jack had finished, and he suddenly found himself getting pulled by his cock. The touch made his cock jump; his head was already dizzy, and he wobbled on his feet, almost drunk as his knees sagged and he started licking Jack's nipple, the start of his slow descent on to all fours.

Manuel seemed to be pretty pleased at this prospect: Blake heard him snort and mutter something in Spanish, or something - whatever it is sounded dirty and hot - and Blake felt the guy's large hands grabbing forcefully onto his ass, pushing his cheeks apart. His strangely long, heavy, rough tongue slid all around Blake's lubed hole, making his insides quiver in excitement.

Blake teased the cock in front of him with his tongue, Jack forcefully pushing his head down, grabbing him by the hair. Blake's fingers dug into the surprisingly moist earth, his eyes closed as the pointy end of Jack's cock squelched and oozed over the roof of his mouth. Jack planted his feet heavily down on Blake's hands, trapping them in the dirt. Blake hadn't really been into this kind of rough sex - at least, not on the receiving end - but it made something click inside of him, and his cock let loose an approving squirt of pre-cum that dripped onto the shady grass-covered ground.

He tried panting as Manuel's tongue slipped inside his hole, but Jack seemed all too eager in forcing Blake to service him, so all he got was nostrils filled with spiky, long pubic hair and the heavily musky odour of Jack's crotch. When Manuel's tongue managed to tickle his prostate, Blake nearly choked trying to moan in pleasure.

Between the lube and Manuel's tonguing, Blake's hole was ready; Manuel didn't waste too much time, standing up and forcing Blake's hole wide before his thick cock stretched it even wider. Blake winced, Manuel's huge weight bearing down on him, unable to control his thrusting as his lubed shaft slipped deeper and narrower in a frenzied, chaotic fashion.

Blake didn't bottom regularly, and had never come close on those occasions to ejaculating hands-free. Not even with a mouth and dildo assisting: it just hadn't been nearly enough. Now, however, he was having to hold on: he could already feel himself wanting to let loose and ejaculate, but he also felt himself craving the feeling of being used as a fuck toy, riding the feeling of the two guys shoving their cocks deeper and harder into him that he steeled himself. Besides, Manuel and Jack weren't ready to ejaculate just yet, and he felt as though an unspoken rule had passed: he could only jizz after the other two.

Jack's cock slipped down against the back of his throat; vaguely out of the corners of his hearing Blake could hear Manuel and Jack's lips and tongues smacking and slapping together as they made out wetly. Jack's hand reached down to stroke the base of his shaft that couldn't fit into Blake's mouth giving the angle; Blake's lips kissed up against Jack's fist as the two bobbed haphazardly up and down from opposite ends. Jack's balls - surprisingly large and hairy - were slapping Blake in the chin.

Manuel's cock was deep inside him, only an inch or two at the base slipping out in between the hard, heavy fucking. The tip felt warm and wet against his insides, and it was as almost as though Blake could hear the rough sound of his skin slipping up over and down off the dark tip penetrating his hole. There was a trickle inside, sliding down and dripping out his stretched, sore sphincter as Manuel dripped his own natural lubricant to mix in with the stuff he'd helped George make, and Blake's juices.

Overhead, the other two were snorting loudly, moaning and bellowing in an inarticulate display of raw emotions: they were fucking, and they felt good.

Jack's hand smashed repeatedly into his face, bucking uncontrollably as he rose up on his tiptoes, pushing Blake's fingers deeper into the dirt. Blake could tell he was close to orgasm, but he had barely sensed that when the tip jabbing right into the back of his throat disgorged a huge, thick load that oozed right down, pumping the warm, salty semen right into Blake's stomach, burning as it went. Jack's noises were pretty much bestial grunts: he seemed to have given up making out with Manuel to bend back, arching his lithe body and filling the mouth in front of him with all the cum his hefty balls could squeeze out.

Blake's nostrils flared; he couldn't breathe with the spunk gushing down his throat, and his muscles were all spasming and jerking in a desperate bid to claw some of the oxygen that his body was mostly redirecting to his hard, needy cock. Finally, Jack threw back Blake's head, leaving a line of semen running down his tongue, falling back to lay against a tree. Blake quickly swallowed and gasped for air.

With Jack out of the way, Manuel fell hard down on him, sucking and biting Blake on the shoulder as his abs stretched, pushing air into his needy lungs. While Manuel wrapped his prickly arms around his, Blake watched Jack pick at the velvety tips protruding from his head. The thick coating of pubic hair dwindled to a sticky trail that reached up to Jack's navel: Blake yearned to lick it, but Manuel was in full control of his body.

Blake panted, his tongue still dripping Jack's ejaculate, grunting and gasping as Manuel rode him hard. His cock felt like it was ready to explode: his lubed shaft was slapping up against his chest, lines of pre-cum splashing on his torso. But he still wanted more: the two-inch long head of Jack's penis had retracted into his thick foreskin, resting against his blond-haired belly, but Blake still wanted to have it inside him.

Manuel bellowed and came: to Blake, it almost felt like the shaft in his ass grew a couple of extra inches as it did, blasting its load deep into his stretched guts. With a whine, he unleashed his own orgasm. His cock gave three thick thrums as it fired out part of his ejaculate in a staggered load.

With the rhythmic pumping from both his cock and the one buried deep inside him, Blake pulled his fingers out from the dirt. The flesh on the back of his hands was indented from where Jack's long, thick toenails had dug in when he was standing on them on tiptoes.

Manuel reached down and run his thick fingers over Blake's cum-splattered chest. It sent a surge of endorphins running through his body, and he climaxed again. In appreciation, he tightened his ring as much as he could on Manuel's cock as it slipped out, Manuel rolling to lay on the ground beside him. His head swimming, Blake slipped on top of him; his body was craving contact, and he felt a need to have his body pressing up against Manuel's with the spiky stubble, and the thick, fleshy tube coated in juices. The warm air felt pleasant on his dripping hole as it slowly began to recover from having Manuel's impressive shaft buried deep inside.

Jack joined them, dropping on to Blake's back, his tongue lapping and tickling his hole. Blake shivered, as Jack's cock oozed jizz down his spine. His dirty fingers lightly touched the horn buds sticking out of Manuel's head, before Manuel's wide tongue licked him and they kissed.