FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was his idea.

Michael was just an average looking gray mouse who kept a toned but thin figure. His success with women didn't come until well into his mid-twenties, after he'd gathered just enough experience under his belt to mask his nervous anxieties with humor and charm. If not for this, most conceded, he never would have been able to meet, much less marry, Debra. To his mind, she was his greatest accomplishment.

Equal to his height and covered in tawny cream fur, Debra was a feline out of his league, as his friends would comment in private. But she was in the place in her life where she sought stability, reliability, and someone who could provide. The party years were over and she fell for the mouse that made her laugh and would be there for her through everything. His ability to push through his anxiety and actually talk to her, ask her out, and eventually propose, was a pleasant surprise each time, and she felt no shortage of love for her husband since. He was proof that charisma mattered.

But, this had been his idea.

Seeing her beneath the heavy set doberman who'd been invited to share her was everything he thought it would be, both good and bad. The blend of feelings within his gut brought prominent conflicting emotions to the surface of his mind. The gnaw of jealousy. The arousal of the sight. His prior addiction to pornography from his less charismatic days surfaced and he'd turned to sexual adventure instead of deeper connections when married life had become routine.

When he suggested it, she said yes, because she loved him, and it was what he wanted.

Seeing her claws slide down a larger man's muscled back was a sight he liked. He felt sympathetic pangs from their connection, and heard sounds from her he hadn't heard since earlier in their marriage.

Dorian was a good friend, and he could be trusted to not let things go too far, and for him to follow the rules. He wore a condom, and he never lowered his face to kiss her during their mating. He felt the things he felt while watching porn years ago, now transferred to his wife's cries of passion, the way she clung her paws to his large, muscled dark ass, and his heavy balls were firmly pressed to hers as he growled and filled the condom, locked within her body courtesy of his unique knotted biology.

Michael wasn't sure if he should have felt some hidden guilt, or happiness, that his orgasm to his own hand was stronger than when he and Debra normally made love, while watching her beneath this growling, sweating dog.

It wasn't the same as pornography; not really. There was no clicking away to a new scene, or rewinding to the parts he preferred to stroke to. But he convinced himself it was as it should be, as they were both participants, and she seemed to enjoy pleasing him.

Debra never took her eyes off Dorian's face. It was one of those moments when Michael wished he could read her mind.

By the time Dorian's knot slid itself from his wife, he'd been talked in to letting the dog stay the night, and even so much that, to further the experience, allow him to take his place in bed with her. Michael felt a further jolt of arousal, even in his spent state, to the notion of his beautiful wife capping off her extramarital adventure by snuggling the large canine he'd invited in to share her. His primal nervousness was tamped down by this initial arousal. One didn't get this feeling of arousing displacement from pornography. It was entirely new. It lit his nerves on fire in a way.

It wouldn't feel right to send Dorian home, like he was just some sex toy to use to spice up their bedroom and then stuff in a drawer when they were done with him. Debra would doze in Dorian's arms in her afterglow, drifting off to a morning where, Michael considered, he may get to see them fuck again before sending Dorian on his way.

Michael remembered this was his idea.

The mouse found himself still awake after two hours of trying to sleep on the couch. The newness of the experience weighed on his mind in exciting ways. The sights he'd witnessed still haunting and arousing his mind in a flurry of conflicted feelings. It was both a rush and a sense that things had changed forever.

That's how Michael found himself in the darkened hallway, peering into his own bedroom through the partly opened door to see the two sleeping figures in his bed, that of his wife, and the dark black and tan shape of the heavy doberman. They were illuminated by the shifting glow of the television playing through some movie they'd left on low volume as the drowsiness overtook them.

That's when Dorian's shape shifted slightly. It was only an arm motion of no consequence, until Debra's soft white paw slid up to rest on his round belly. The drowsy pair seemed to become aware of themselves once more, and the dog turned his head to her. She turned to look at the dark, canine face in the low light of the room. Michael saw her paw start to trace circles around the heavy dog's belly button. The motion was sleepy, slow, yet the pace signaled affection and comfort.

Michael saw Dorian's opposite hand come over, his body shift just slightly to face his wife, as his much larger, darker paw rested on her shoulder. He heard the sounds of what he was sure was _kissing? _

That was against their rules.

Michael couldn't see the details of what was happening, but the sound was unmistakable. The motions of their head, the proximity of their mouths, the soft wet noises of the occasional break in connection, only to have them resume again. His mind's eye burned with what his imagination offered him. Dorian's enormous canine jaws parting to offer his heavy tongue to his feline wife. She took it lazily in a relaxed, half asleep state, sucking his tongue, their mouths touching, her own pink tongue sliding out in grateful acceptance in Michael's dark bedroom.

What Michael could see was the sheets and comforter shifting, sliding to their knees to expose their nudity. Dorian's sheath was showing the first five inches of his red, glossy canine penis. When the doberman's paw slid down his wife's back, her own roamed down the hill of his stomach and her fingers spread out to caress his aroused sheath openly.

The mouse's heart hammered in his chest so powerfully, he was sure they would somehow hear it and awaken fully to realize what they had initiated in their half-asleep state. He thought of leaving, but remained, transfixed on their rule breaking intimacy.

_No no, this wasn't right. It was against their rules. He was always supposed to be in the room when things happened. _

Michael heard the springs of his bed creaking softly as Dorian moved to lay on his side entirely, and saw his wife's arm slide around the dog's thick middle section. The sounds of kissing were interrupted by the sounds of her feline breathing growing deeper, accompanied by a canine's low, masculine rumble. The mouse could only grip the door frame for support as his wife coaxed the huge beast of a male to take his place on top of her, cream colored thighs parting, exposed, her sex still gleaming in the room's dim light.

What if they're both asleep? What if stopping them was the right thing to do?

But the mouse couldn't move. He saw almost nothing of his wife anymore; her entire body was blocked by the mass of that huge doberman male, his large ass and heavy nuts foremost in his line of sight. Her tail was visible, as were her paw feet, sliding along his thighs. The glimpse of the bottom of her butt, lifting from the bed made Michael's heart stop. Dorian's bare sheath and dripping dog cock were sliding over the open petals of his wife's wet pussy.

Wait! He wasn't putting on a condom!

He saw the initial penetration. Dorian pushed his heavy hips forward and his sheath dislodged more of his exotic, heavy canine dick as it sank firmly into her body until his sheath was mashed to her sex, and his scrotum spread against her feline ass. Debra gasped, her soft paws seen on his back, tightening her grip into little fists against the pitch black fur.

It wasn't at all like before. Michael heard their kissing through a torturously slow lovemaking. Dorian was bedding his wife like some passionate lover taking his time. His large hips bobbed slowly in leisurely up and down thrusts. Michael heard Debra's breathing picking up, her soft muted sounds cut off by more passionate kissing. Her husband had to contend with the torture of his imagination revealing to him the sight of her drinking the dog's strings of drool, devouring his tongue as the invasive lover lapped his affection into her married mouth.

The mating pace picked up. Dorian was now fucking her properly, spontaneously, in Michael's bed as if it were his own, and he had every right to his wife. Unprotected.

Her deep breathing turned into more rapid breathing, and then the low stifled sounds of her whimpering, suppressed moans, as her claws ran furrows in his black fur from his shoulders to his thick ass. Her paws gripped and it caused Dorian's ass to spread, baring to Michael the sight of the dog's heavy taint, asshole, and scrotum as he drove into his wife again and again.

Michael thought he was going to pass out. His head was dizzy and his mouth dry. The scent of their sexual union wafted out of the bedroom to his nose. He could taste their natural passion. The scent of Debra's body, familiar, healthy, young, and his. The masculine odors of Dorian, the scent of canine sweat, pheromones, and sheath. It all combined with the sounds of their mating, the hushed moans, the illicit kissing, her hands roaming his body as if in monumental appreciation of his differentness. The mouse could feel his world helplessly caving in on him, powerless to stop it, unsure if he wanted to. A rationalization rooted in desire and his helplessness to stop it if he wanted to.

Debra came. He always knew what she sounded like when she did. Her body sounded wetter, her moans trembled, and her toes extended their claws in mid-air behind the heavy, pumping doberman. Michael could envision the size of Dorian's knot swelling inside his wife. The lock of their affair, their cheating. It was stretching and hitting those places Michael couldn't, and sending her into paroxysms of orgasm, like a peak that held at a plateau and peaked again and then again as Dorian's pace increased. Her pussy gripped him, her outer labia bulging with the mass contained within, milking him off.

Michael wasn't supposed to be there. He was supposed to be asleep.

Dorian built to his inevitable conclusion. His growling got lower, deeper, and Debra gasped, sensing it. Michael justified that her instincts merely took over. Her half-asleep state made her do things. The otherworldly dimness of night time made it seem like the immediate surroundings were the only things that existed, and the outside world was nothing but a memory. All that mattered to her was that huge canine mate, the rightness or wrongness of it didn't matter. Her vows didn't matter. Whatever promises and rules made were part of that other, outside world.

Debra's paws clutched at Dorian's ass, gripping it, her thighs squeezing his love handles as if afraid he might withdraw. Michael bore witness to the flesh of Dorian's cock, just behind his knot, before it vanished into his sheath, the rest of his incredible mass locked firmly inside his wife, before his deep growls indicated his climax. The heavy doberman was cumming. The mouse saw the pelvic muscles between his thighs contract and spasm, his huge balls drawn up as the doberman pushed himself as deep as he could go and rested himself there, only moving once in a while. The dark muscled ass flexed, his grunts deep and heavy, and Debra's paws slid up and down his lower back, caressing his hips, thighs, grasping at them, as the dog just streamed his laser-like streaks of semen deep into her adulterous body.

Dorian had spread his thighs, and Michael saw his wife's bottom lift up to keep herself locked in that heavenly mating press. The doberman's body was glossed with sweat at this point, and it was the dominant scent in the room, soaking into the married couple's sheets. His pelvic floor still twitched and clenched once in a while, as he stayed rooted inside Debra. And Michael heard their slow kissing resume again.

She was savoring him.

Despite Michael's intense orgasm earlier, he was as solid as a brick in his underwear. He hadn't even dared to touch himself in that moment, witnessing his friend remaining locked in his wife and just draining himself into her. What was more startling was her passionate acceptance.

It had to be a mistake, he rationalized again. There was no way she would have done that if she had been fully awake, right?

Michael had been there for a while, long enough to watch the huge dog finally dislodge himself from Debra, the grotesque mass of an aroused canine penis sliding from his wife's relatively small pussy, leaving it open, the pink running with evidence of her own body's arousal and the intruder's semen sliding out onto the sheets. Michael's sheets.

By the time Michael was able to walk away, his legs feeling like rubber, Debra and Dorian were laying on their sides, facing one another, lazily kissing, her small paw running the length of his large, powerful arm. There was not a whisper he could hear, not a word spoken between them as he wandered down the hallway.

Wandered where? Michael felt like he was aimless, strolling his house in the dimness of night time. There was no sound at all except for the chirping of crickets beyond the windows and closed doors.

He couldn't sleep all night. He'd lay down for a while, listening to the crickets, his mind racing. Sometimes he would get up and pace, go to the kitchen to get water from the fridge, drink one gulp, and go sit down somewhere else.

That wasn't his idea. But his idea had started it. He let it into his house.

Sometimes he would creep back by the bedroom and peer through the partly open door again. Usually they were sleeping. The glow from the television was even more muted as the movie had concluded and a film with darker light was auto-playing.

The fourth time he approached the hallway, he heard Debra's breathing again. The bed springs announced motion to Michael's sensitive ears. He couldn't stop himself from seeing them again. Debra was on her belly, her thighs stretched out behind her and that huge beastly doberman was on top of her, smothering her body. His large belly was in her back and his fat hips were pumping steadily. Dorian's huge dark paw was over her mouth to keep her from making too much noise and her muffled moans were stifled against immense canine fingers.

The sheets behind them were soaked. Michael recalled on rare occasions he'd been able to make her squirt with the right motions of his fingers. Now, with the immensity of Dorian's canine knot constantly pressed to her g-spot, her mind was gone and her body had unloaded again and again.

There was less shock this time. The gnawing sense of betrayal still resonated in his body and mind, but it was met with a resigned acceptance that began to overlay everything he felt.

Dorian grunted and panted, his sounds in Debra's ear, his motions coming to a firm halt, followed by a series of rapid twitches of his heavy hips. Michael knew he was cumming inside her again. Debra knew it too, and her husband could tell by the way her eyes rolled back into her lids and her paws clawed at the sheets. There were deep rips where her claws rended the fabric.

It was simultaneously the most painful and most arousing things Michael had ever seen.

When it was over, the mouse disengaged from his voyeurism. He wouldn't go back to that hallway tonight.

It wasn't long before the morning sunrise started to glow around the blinds of the house, illuminating all of his familiar surroundings as he sat on the couch, pondering. He still hadn't touched himself.

The mouse started the coffee. He had work today, and he mindlessly busied himself going through the motions of wakefulness.

He hadn't slept a wink. His balls ached with the low, dull throb of arousal without fulfillment. He had to consider if he would tell them what he saw. Tell them he knew what they did. It was only a small inner conflict before his old anxiety took over. He didn't have the courage to admit anything to them.

Michael felt like an outsider again. The distance he felt when he considered himself out of Debra's league came flooding back. He was a normal guy, quaint, charming, pleasant. Dependable. And she was an attractive feline beauty.

The two lovers eventually descended the stairs, Dorian dressed in the things he came in, while Debra had on one of Michael's shirts and a pair of white panties.

“Good morning, Michael!" she chirped with a happy stretch. She always luxuriated in the morning, looking radiant even when waking up. “Did you sleep well?" she asked while kissing his cheek.

“Yeah," he lied with a smile.

Dorian stayed for a cup of coffee, talked about a few nothings involving work with Michael, and departed.

In the light of day, it felt like last night was a dream. Michael was still processing much of it. It was so easy to just resume life as if none of it was real.

Debra offered him head before work, which was something she often did for him. Her enthusiasm was markedly up this time. Michael closed his eyes, nothing but images of her beneath that mountain of canine in his mind as his wife worked his shaft with her paw and slid her tongue over his glans again and again. He kept thinking of the two unprotected loads of Dorian's fertile sperm inside his wife's sleek feline body, as his toes curled, and he felt his body racing to its conclusion.

An entire night of pent up sexual frustration hit him like a shot and spilled into Debra's gulping mouth in streaming ropes in such a volume of production that even surprised her.

After recovering, breathing heavily, moaning, “Thanks, sweetheart," he kissed her cheek and she smiled.

She seemed proud. Almost smug. She sometimes looked that way, as it was just in her feline nature. But this time Michael felt it had an even greater meaning.

He couldn't get that look out of his mind as he dressed and drove to work. The normal day had come around, and he went through the motions like every other. But his mind was always distracted with flashes of what he knew, even more than what he saw. Things would never be the same again.

And it was his idea.