FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Thanks for reading my story. This is based on a silly game a friend used to participate in where you'd try to touch the other person in their love-spot. Whoever freaked out first lost! Critique is more than welcome!

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People take it too far sometimes.

Night had folded its wings over the stirring egg of the world and Baron was busy playing "Hatching the Cock," his paw sneaking up his friend's thigh, the roughness of denim sliding underneath. The raccoon was always up to this; his mind was a porn video stuck on repeat. The 'coon needed to learn how to keep the contagion of his thoughts quarantined.

"This game again?" Roy huffed. He adjusted in his seat as he turned off Main Street, his ears flattening in annoyance. One of these days they're going to rear-end a vehicle or mow down a hapless pedestrian. Good thing Baron came from a line of successful 'coons. Never underestimate the power of the fuel industry. If Baron ever decided to have children, their kids' kids would be set for life, as dumb as they would most likely be. "You're gonna get us killed, man." Heck, at least he'll enjoy winning his case on one of those televised judge shows suing him for a new vehicle, assuming they survive. Knowing the raccoon, he'd probably say something stupid and make Roy's case for him.

"What? You afraid you gonna lose again like last time?" Maybe. The 'coon had gotten too close for comfort once, his black mitts inches away from his fly. Normally this wouldn't have bothered the Labrador, but it was during a bad breakup; Roy had no choice but to bat those chubby paws away.

"Hey, now. I do remember winning the last half-dozen times."

"Pfft. Whatever." He inched his paw closer to the dog's crotch.

"It's true! You're the wimp and you won't even admit it!" Roy was damn good at this game, having unzipped a few before being pushed away. No one else had ever gotten that far in the five or so years he and his group of friends came up with this stupid pastime. He didn't particularly like the game and he wondered how he'd become the reigning champ.

"Hey, you know who's good at it?"

"Changing the subject, are we?"

"No, just shut up." Baron scritched his belly, not realizing he just lost. Too many donuts. "You know Mill?"

"Million?" Million was a jaguar he'd met once or twice. Pop must've had a serious ego-trip naming his son after a big number. Roy wondered why not Billion instead. Bill, for short, would've made much more sense considering there are actual people named Bill, not to mention Billion being a much bigger number; a seven inch dick is always bigger than a six inch one.

"Yeah."

"What about him?" Roy turned down Charlotte Boulevard, Baron's house just further down.

"Man, he might be better than you at it." The raccoon began twiddling his whiskers. He always did that when he knew something you didn't or was just fucking horny. Roy hoped it was the former.

"Who cares? I've been the champ at this for so long. We got to find something new to do. Seriously."

"Ah, man. You've been on this trip lately. What's up with you? Not getting enough action in the sack?"

"Hey, hey." Roy felt his back stiffen. "You knew I just broke up with Sharl. And things weren't that great in that department even when we were going out."

"Is that why you dumped the bitch?"

"I guess so." Roy sighed, his tail beginning to itch. "She just didn't excite me. And take it easy with that word--she's a good person. Just wasn't for me." And she was a good person. Smart girl, acing all her physics exams in college while manning hunger awareness drives and raising her kid sister. Her father did all the work on the sofa behind bottles of cheap beer, remote in hand all day. And she somehow managed while holding down a lousy telemarketing job and helping with half of the bills. Still, they just didn't click.

"Man, I hear that." They pulled into Baron's driveway. "She was always nagging you about her sister, how 'You need to be a good role model. Quit hanging with those dumb friends of yours.'" He mocked her voice, sounding more like a tranny than anything else.

"Well," Roy started, stepping out, "let's get off of that, shall we--"

"You know what'll be a good idea?" Baron cut in, floundering after Roy. "Let's give ol' Mill a call. Haven't chilled with him for awhile. Every time I call him he says he's busy!"

"Whatever." It wasn't like they were doing much tonight. They just got back from the movies--some half-wit comedy spoofing all the recent blockbusters. Something Baron enjoyed a little too immensely like a fat kid with cake. Speaking of which, there better be no cake inside. He'd hurl if he had to watch his old high school friend eat a whole cake like he'd done before.

A yellow mini cooper pulled up as Baron yabbered into his cellphone, a white vixen stepping out as if onto a red carpet, clad in secretarial-wear from what Roy could see in the dimness of the lone streetlamp. It was Melanie, Baron's girlfriend, who worked at the human resources department of a large company that made car parts. They were a perfect match.

"Hey, hun," she said. They gave a quick peck after he said goodbye.

After what seemed like an altercation over the phone Baron said, "He just got out of the gym. We need to pick him up."

That was right--Mill walked everywhere he went. One of the few quirks Roy remembered.

"Ah, not right now, hun." There was something about the way she said "hun" that irked the Labrador. It was like a strange buzz a fly would make. "I just got off work and I'm tired."

They rattled on back and forth and Roy couldn't help but roll his eyes, tapping one of his tires with a foot. Melanie crossed arms, looking like the devil incarnate, her fur like wildfire. Baron was defeated. Too easily.

"Okay, look, Roy," he said, sidling over with an uneasy grin. "She ain't budgin'. Think you can pick him up for me? He's at the gym way up the fucking street"--he pointed emphatically--"down Woodword."

"Yeah, I know it." Roy glanced over at Moping Melanie. "I'll be back."

"Great. I'll get some chips and beers ready." Chips and beer. It was a Saturday night all right.

With a quick "see ya," Roy burned back down Charlotte towards Woodword Avenue, his mind heavy as a wet blanket. He didn't like how the raccoon (who didn't understand the meaning of "faux pas") had brought up his ex. He scritched the back of his head, his fur coarse, then cranked up the radio, some late-night program blasting metal tunes.

He didn't know what went wrong. They've been steadily dating shortly after high school, almost for two years. However, every time she wanted to get intimate, it just felt uncomfortable. Touching her body was like searching for an obscure town on an old map for a country you couldn't even pinpoint on a globe. It was all too foreign, as embarrassing as it was to admit (if Baron ever knew how he felt, he'd never hear the end of it), and all too... uninteresting.

Roy shook his head, his mind finagling into a place he didn't want to go.

Woodword appeared. Soon after that the gym, patrons leaving as the business prepared to close for the night. Roy pinpointed a familiar body at the far corner, gym bag in hand and nothing but a pair of shorts on, an obvious show off of his musculature, amoeba-like patterns of spots almost dancing across the bonfire of his orange fur. As his car crept forward, he could tell the jaguar meant business, his abs like a perfect line up of rectangular stones, his wide chest rising like good bread as he inhaled, sampling the smooth night air. He had more muscles than he did spots, and with his teeth glaring in the moonlight from a yawn, he looked like somebody you wouldn't want to spill your beer on. Heck, even his tail looked imposing, like a fat snake. Roy rolled down a window with a gulp, hoping this wasn't the wrong guy, but his fears melted away as he was greeted with a smile as broad as the jaguar's shoulders. He silenced the radio, the nervous music of his heart diminishing in unison.

"Hey, I remember you," Mill spoke as if to an old friend. They only met the once and Roy could've sworn he wasn't this big. "No Baron?"

"Nah, he's all tied up with his girl. Hop in."

Back down Charlotte, it wasn't long before the huge cat spoke again. Already, Roy had been eyeballing Mill; up close, he was more menacing. The jaguar could crush him with an arm easily, his biceps bulging even with his arms relaxed. In the darkness he could still see every sinewy curve of his body, every slab of muscle like forged armor. A heat boiled inside Roy's gut.

"It's been awhile," Mill said, placing a paw on Roy's shoulder. He almost jumped.

"Yeah. At least a year." He swallowed. "By the way, you're looking good, man. I don't remember you being so, uh... burly."

The jaguar gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, you get bored when no one calls you up for awhile. A gym membership was the quick-fix for that. Do you remember what we were doing when we last met?"

Roy went on a search-and-rescue through his brain, but nothing came through the rubble except for more debris. "I don't, man."

"Ah, really?" He laughed again. "Baron was all drunk and singing 'Happy Birthday' to himself on top of his roof. He'd eaten that whole cake earlier."

Roy laughed. Oh, yeah. He remembered now. "I'm surprised he hadn't fallen off and broken his neck."

"Totally. And remember when he threw up and it went down the gutters? So fucking gross!"

Roy couldn't believe he'd forgotten that night, especially since the raccoon was always big on eating cake. He blamed the beer.

"Oh, Baron," Roy said. A goopy mix of white frosting, chocolate cake, and rum came to mind. "What would we do without him?" They wouldn't have any more of that combination of vomit, that's for sure.

Mill huffed. "Wish he'd call me up more. I guess things had to settle down when his parents found out what happened and they threatened to kick him out of the house."

"He needs to get out on his own soon anyway. He's almost twenty-two now. I told him he could room with me."

"Well, he's in the lap of luxury. I'd probably take advantage of rich parents who're never home, too, if that was me."

Roy chimed in agreement; he'd probably do the same as well.

"Anyway," Mill said. "How are things with your ex going?"

Fuck, he knew what happened, too? Why was everyone interested about his girl all of sudden?

"Well, it's been a few months since the break-up."

There was a few seconds of silence. Felt much longer.

"That's too bad," Mill said. "She seemed to really like you."

How would he know? "Look, no offense, but I'd rather put all that behind me." Roy glanced over with a smile. He wasn't mad or nothing, he just didn't need to be reminded of his failed relationships.

"Fair enough." Mill scratched his thigh, a few quick passes. "Anyway, what made you guys decide to call me all of a sudden?" He adjusted himself down below, as casual as a kid picking his nose.

Roy paused at the coincidence, his eyes flickering to the spot the jaguar had just touched himself; his tail began to itch. "You know that dumb game he likes where you have to let out the other guy's junk and whoever freaks out first and quits loses?"

"Oh, you're not talking about that 'Hatching the Cock' thing are you?" His face beamed, looking a little too excited.

"Well, that's what he calls it, but yeah. He was busy trying to feel me up and you popped into the conversation. Says you're good at it."

"Dude, I'm pro."

"Well, I'm pretty good at it myself," Roy said nonchalantly. "Unfortunately."

"I can't believe my name pops up during something like that," Mill laughed. "But I'm probably better at it than you. I gave Baron a run for his money every time."

"Doubt it, man." Roy didn't know what came over him, especially since he didn't know Mill very well, but his paw sprung onto the jaguar's knee like a yellow, five-legged insect.

Mill didn't say anything--just sort of smiled, Roy guiding the car further down Charlotte while keeping an eye on the jaguar who stayed perfectly still. Didn't squirm or nothing.

Mill was definitely packing some power as Roy's paw crept further up, his leg firm and defined. Definitely not like everyone else who were either chubby or bony as fuck. Roy found himself grinning, his chest pounding like an angry spouse's fist. He was sure to win, maneuvering towards the inside of his thigh, a move that got almost everyone to slap his paw away.

Roy stopped.

A bulge ran down half the length of Mill's thigh like a humongous vein. He glanced at the jaguar who only looked back with a blank expression. It took a few seconds before Roy realized it was Mill's dick he was feeling, although there was no way it could be that big. No way.

Surprised Mill hadn't yet protested but determined to put him in his place, Roy advanced, the car filling up with their deepening breaths; his tail began to itch like mad. He ignored it, his face burning up as he continued towards his crotch.

He almost stopped. There was no zipper to unzip; he had gym shorts on. He didn't even realize it!

Eyes on the road, he tried to handle it like a pro, hooking his fingers around the waistband, guided by his experience during summer road trips and midnight excursions to the gas station for Icees and cigarettes when he and his friends would do this.

Roy decided to go for it and show the jaguar he meant business; after this, he was retiring. Fishing his paw in, a lack of any sort of underwear nearly pacified him--the jaguar was literally clad in only his shorts: no briefs, no nothing. With no impediments, Roy whipped out Mill's dick like a rubber baton. His eyes became wide as the streetlights; the size of the jaguar was unreal--probably why he was so cocky about being good at the game. Ostentatious, like a fox.

Mill's expression was still a curious blank and it became obvious that there was still no winner; no one backed down, no one laughed in embarrassment. Autopilot kicked in, Roy's arm malfunctioning as he began to stroke the jaguar off.

Mill's dick immediately stiffened, his girth forcing Roy's paw open to the point where he could barely touch fingers to thumb. Their hearts raced like engines, Mill's glans 'shrooming thickly, his entire length hard as concrete and jutting towards the ceiling like a raised fist.

Roy found it difficult to focus on the road, his head spinning; he couldn't believe what he was doing, and even more in disbelief at the jaguar's massive size. He had to be at least nine, maybe ten inches long--and thick enough to make someone think twice about taking him.

A wetness dabbed Roy's paw, the jaguar's pre-cum leaking down his shaft, a musky scent filling the car. Roy's nose twitched, the smell reminding him of something he couldn't quite put his paw on. He put the thought aside, slickening the shaft before slipping to the head and rubbing it like he was polishing a bed-knob, feeling the slit dribble more pre.

"Keep going," Mill hissed, breaking through the wet silence of being manually stimulated.

The car screeched into a swerve, a horn blaring as headlights zipped past. Mill took hold of the dashboard as Roy ground to a halt by the curve; he hadn't realized he'd drifted onto the wrong side of the street, barely missing the oncoming car. Thank goodness there wasn't a head-on.

Mill caught his breath, his erection still throbbing as Roy shifted into park, the gear stick becoming dank with his fluid.

Roy let out a laugh. "Man, that was close." He flipped on the overhead light to get a better look. "And man, you're fucking huge."

A few seconds crawled past.

"You mean you don't remember?" Mill said, leaning in and unbuckling Roy's seat belt, guiding it over the Labrador back to its resting position.

"What do you mean?" Roy could feel Mill's breath and his eyes seemed to glow. Roy felt like prey.

Mill grinned, the classic tent already pitched in Roy's pants. He took the labrador and kissed him, his other paw striding in to unzip his pants.

A collision of thoughts and emotions burned through Roy's head like a bad wreck, but everything felt right and he kissed back, Mill's whiskers making his skin itch pleasantly. He slid a paw down the jaguar's abdomen, relishing every firm curve before gliding up the pink spire of flesh to his glans, his own cock springing up as Mill freed it from its cotton prison.

Time seemed to accelerate, the windows fogging up. Roy's tongue lolled out as he panted, bolts of pleasure rocketing through his cock and up his spine as Mill's paw traveled up all seven inches of him. He worked faster on Mill, loving the feeling of having something much heavier and thicker in his own paw, feeling the skin move underneath, Mill's balls slapping against the fabric of his half-on pants.

Mill winced, a moan rumbling out. "Keep going...."

A truck tussled past. With a snap of the wrist the overhead light was off, leaving the wet sounds of their play to bypass the censorship of the dark.

"God...."

That single word escaped and both knew Roy was close, Mill focusing on the thick cock-head in response. Roy stopped pawing off the jaguar, tugging on his own balls with his left paw and clutching the scruff of fur behind Mill's thick neck with the other. Teeth clenched, the feeling became overpowering, his hips bucking into the jaguar's thick paw. Roy whimpered.

"That's a good pup," Mill whispered, stroking the side of Roy's head, thumbing his set of piercings along a floppy ear.

A moan burst from Roy's muzzle as his body shuddered, his cock on fire as the rest of his body seemed to melt. He came, the familiar ribbon of white eructing onto the steering wheel. He gasped, the pleasure of this ejaculation the most immense he'd ever felt, another thick wave of spunk splattering onto the windshield.

Roy's scent was strong and musky, Mill's nose twitching as he inhaled, still tugging at the dog's dick as it spewed across his jeans a few times before dribbling the last few ounces onto its handler's paw.

Roy couldn't believe how good he felt. Sure, he'd pawed off like every other guy, but never did he cum this hard and this much, his semen covering everything in front of him in heavy streaks. He almost laughed that the windshield was a casualty as well.

He set his eyes on Mill. Like the sudden enlightenment a monk must've felt, the jaguar was the most beautiful thing on earth right now, the beauty of their moment transcending Mill's physical attractiveness. His cock was still hard, aching for attention, and to Roy, Mill was the embodiment of the male physique.

Mill leaned in to kiss him, but Roy turned. Something was still wrong with this and part of him couldn't believe what he just let Mill do--what he'd already done to Mill. He must be confused because of the break up. He'd never thought of guys this way before.

Roy's cell buzzed angrily. He answered, Mill sighing as his dick went soft. He pulled his shorts back on and buckled his seat belt.

"Hey, where the hell are you, man," Baron whined. "D'you get lost?"

"No," Roy huffed. "We almost got into an accident. Got me all freaked out. We're almost there."

"All right. Careful, man."

The call disconnected and Roy sat there, his dick limp and wet on his lap, his mess waiting to be cleaned. He dug for a stray fast food napkin, the jaguar as silent as a predator.

Sometimes people take it too far. And he was to blame, this time.

His tail itched. Bad.