FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

The hot sun beats down around them, warming the day past comfortable. The grey wolf lies inside his concealed blind, ignoring the sleek red form of his spotter and waiting for the time that would let him finish his job. They had been waiting there since just before dawn, hiding in the blind they had constructed under cover of darkness. It was obvious that he had been out in the field for too long now, his fur was matted in places and even as he lay there he could feel that the wounds on his back had healed. Frowning looks again through the scope of his rifle, surveying the area of the town he was watching. Seeing no sign of his target he growls silently to himself and relaxes slightly, letting his mind wander back to the week before, when he was still on base...

He blinked against the dark of the blindfold covering his eyes, not truly needing to see to follow the movements of the female, but missing the sight anyway. His trained senses followed her movements around him as he kneeled on the ground in the middle of the converted bedroom. He stared ahead in darkness, only his ears moving, catching the soft noises around him. He could hear her movements, smell her scents mingling in the room; he felt the roughness of the rope binding his wrists behind him, the soft firmness of the thick leather collar locked around his throat, the change in texture on the floor where he was kneeling on scraps of cloth where she had cut his uniform from his body earlier. He smiled inside as she glided next to him again, just behind him. He could see her in his mind, the luxurious softness of her grey and white fur, the tiny 'c' shaped spots that decorated her body, the black leather bodysuit she was wearing and the treasures it hid.

He noted her movement in an off hand way, but it was not until she brought the rattan cane down across his back that he snapped fully from his reverie. The snap brought a growl to his throat but no movement. He remained as unmoving as a statue as she brought the cane down on his back again and again until his thick grey fur was blotched in red. As the beating continued, he could feel himself beginning to harden, the sensation of the cane enough to begin to drag a reaction from his jaded body. Placing one hand on his shoulder she stepped softly around him, moving to straddle him. He could smell her more strongly now, and yet something nagged at his brain. It was not until she took hold of his head and pressed his muzzle up against her wetness that he grasped the change. She had gotten better to have gotten the bodysuit off without him noticing. He let her move for a moment, riding his muzzle, spreading her most personal scent across it as she pleasured herself with him, then he moved, pressing his head up and back, his tongue darting out to lap at her, tasting her. Her juices danced across his tongue, sweet and light, almost like fresh strawberries in the height of their season, and his hardness grew more at the taste. Yet, while his body soaked in the sexual pleasures of her touch and taste, the sensations of pain and pleasure she had given him, in the darkness of the blindfold his eyes still betrayed the coldness of his mind, his soul. His body responded to the physical lusts she drew from him, but his passions remained banished.

He licked her faster, probing into her with his tongue, knowing each spot to lick; to flick that would get a gasp or a moan from her, pulling her closer and closer to orgasm. Panting heavily, she pulled away and swatted teasingly at his sticky muzzle. 'Naughty puppy,' she laughed. 'You know what I want before either of us gets that.' Pulling his head farther back, she pressed herself against him and slowly drew her body down his, leaving a wet line across his fur, her wetness reaching his hard shaft and beginning to engulf it even as she kissed him deeply, open mouth, her tongue pressing into him as he was entering her. One paw held his head to her kiss and she began to ride him, pressing him deep inside of her then sliding up so he almost was out, over and over. Moaning loudly into his mouth, she rode him faster. Suddenly he felt coldness against his arm, the feeling of the metal of the knife she had used to destroy his uniform. It played up and down his arms as she toyed with it, pressing softly, scraping the edge against his; here a few tufts of fur sliced away, there just a soft pressure of a honed edge. Even as her orgasm drew a yowl of pleasure from her, she pressed the knife between his wrists and pulled, slicing the ropes from him. His arms freed, he grabbed her, now taking control of the movement of her on him. Slamming her down onto him, harder and faster then she had, bringing himself closer to the climax his body desired. Her paws grasped his back, claws sinking into him, drawing lines of bright red as she dragged them across him in ecstasy. The sharp pains bringing him to the edge and over it, he slammed her down onto him, the force almost knocking the wind from her. He growled loudly as he shot into her, filling her with spurt after spurt of his seed, swelling now, his body fulfilling the functions it was born to do. His knot trapping her to him, forcing her to so deeply straddle him, until his shaft relaxed and slipped free.

She half-lounged on the bed, still nude, her thighs soaked with the mix of their juices, she worked carefully to clean the numerous cuts and breaks on his back. Her grin of pleasure loud enough to hear in her words, she laughed occasionally as she spoke. 'Spirits, that was nice. I can only assume from how far we went tonight that you are heading out to work again. I don't know what it is you do, exactly, but you should do it more. I love getting to play like this, but Spirits know it's nothing compared to when you first get back. You are so aggressive, an animal. I love it. You know I'll be waiting for you as soon as you get back. Just don't have too much fun without me, ok?'

A gesture from his spotter snaps him back to reality and again he looks down at the town through the optical scope. There was more activity in the compound in the center of town now. Inside the compound and its buildings and around it on the street, people milled around, hustling from place to place or talking as they waiting for something. The different colors of the furs in their shabby, worn street cloths is a sharp contrast to the drab tannish pink of the humans in their suits and freshly pressed military and military police uniforms. An off-road limousine, escorted by two armored transport trucks, pulls through the gate and stops in front of the largest building in the compound. Guards and soldiers from the trucks forcefully push the few furs in front of the building back, creating a clear passage to the door as the tall human in the gaudily decorated uniform steps from the limo, flanked by bodyguards. He salutes the leader of the honor guard clearing his way and walks inside the building, unaware of the crosshairs that had followed his every move throughout his walk. The wolf shakes his head softly, pulling back from the rifle. Too noisy, too many people, he thinks. No, much better to wait for the planned shot. Again he allows himself to relax, letting his spotter over watch the town and its compound while he drifts back into his thoughts, to his room, just before the mission...

His room was spotless, perfectly neat and organized; only the table in the center of the room seemed in any level of disarray. He sat at the table, meticulously reassembling his rifle. He had cleaned it, inspected and maintenced it, taken it out to recheck the zero on the scope, and just finished recleaning and rechecking it. His paws seemed to fly over the softly matte finished weapon. Each piece checked, lubricated and nestled into their place in the hard-sided rifle case. The rifle with its scope and bipod, the long, fat flash suppressor, even the tools he would use to maintain during the operation. Lastly he cleared away the tools for the weapon and began to inspect the shining match-grade ammunition. Each cartridge he inspected for the most minor flaws or imperfections, placing several back away, slipping each one he approved of into the padded cartridge holders in the case. At last he had but a single round left in its original box, yet he left the box sitting on the table as he closed and sealed the rifle case. Placing it by his perfectly made bed he began to clean the table, each tool and bottle returned to the spot it always waited in his room, wiping the surface clean, until only the box with the single round remained. Leaving it sit there almost made him twitch but he pressed down his irritation by force of his tremendous will. It was an irksome tradition and one that bordered on the superstitious, but his tradition nevertheless. He knew he would be back from this mission, no matter what else happened, because leaving a task undone, even a simple task like sorting ammunition and cleaning his room, was unthinkable. He would be back to finish it, even if it took a very long time. He shrugged into his heavy body armor and shouldered the case with his rifle and walked out of his room, down the stairs of the barracks and outside. Almost grinning as he breathed in the thin, cool air he began to stretch before his run.

The red fox shakes his head slightly as he puts down his binoculars for a moment and looks at his partner. The larger fur's body seemed still primed for action, occasionally a muscle twitching under his fur, yet his gaze was unfocused, as if staring at a target a thousand miles away. He had been here long before the fox had arrived at the unit, and still no one seemed to know that much about him, other then to stay out of his way, and that he was the best long rifle in a unit that was already the best of the best. The other guys at the unit just called him 'Ice,' even his superiors; it was not hard to understand why. The thing was, rumor among the guys said none of them had started calling him that, according to what he heard it was the girls at the clubs, the Spec Ops groupies that called him that first, they said he was forceful in bed, always knowing exactly what he wanted, and always making sure they got at least as much in return, but totally cold. Even in bed not one of them had ever seen him smile. The fox shudders slightly and looks again at the sniper, they were both dressed basicly alike, the camoflagued uniforms with no markings or patches, the black boots, yet even here the wolf was different then the rest of them, his battered green beret perched on his head and the thin, black leather collar around his neck outside of regs and orders, but no one would make an issue of even such a major breach, not to him. Smiling, the fox remembers the new commander starting to tear into him for being out of uniform in formation once, the paniced look on his First Sergeants face as he bodily grabbed the young officer and dragged him away from the formation. The captain had never even seemed to notice the wolf's uniform since. Shrugging, he raises the binoculars again and stares down at the town sprawling out before them, looking for unexpected changes and waiting for the reappearance of the human officer they waited for. He smiles, waiting.

It is not long before the gesture from the fox again pulls the wolf from his thoughts. Peering through the scope, he can see the human has arrived in his office, overlooking the compound and the street below. He can see him, sitting in his large padded chair, sipping coffee and watching the compound from his large glass window. The folders in his lap seem unnoticed as the man smiles unpleasantly at the people below him. The wolf breaks eye contact to check his watch. Noting the time, the temperature and the barometric pressure from the gauges on it, he casts his gaze down at the few trees near the building. He watches them move for close to a full minute before he returns to watching the human through his rifle scope, already adjusting for the factors that will change the flight of the bullet as it passes between the barrel of the rifle and it's target in the town. His body begins to flow smoothly, his breathing controlled as he enters into an almost trance state, focusing on the shot, his tongue held tightly between his sharp canine teeth. Pausing between breaths he slowly squeezes the trigger, the snap of the weapon seeming far away, the soft push of it a trigger in his body more then his mind. His body moves, beginning to work the bolt, chambering another round into the rifle, even as he watches a hole appear in the window, another appearing in the face of the human. As the man slumps forward, revealing the damage the round has done to the back of his head, the wolf smiles and bites down. He doesn't even notice the flash of pain, but the taste of blood in his mouth, watching his prey fall excites him. He begins to harden at the kill, even as he tracks the limp form and places one, then two more rounds into the corpse.

Pulling back from the rifle scope, the wolf moves. The smile already fled, he looks at his spotter. The fox nods, 'Confirmed, good kill.' They quickly break down their nest and move back into the forest, heading toward the point so many miles away where they can finally make their pick-up and leave this country for home. But, even as they walk softly through the woods, the fox shudders, a strange twist of the established reality disturbing, almost frightening him as his partner speaks, far out of line for him in the years he has know him.

'Come on, Sig. Let's get going, I have a date when I get home.'