FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Debra couldn't believe what she was doing, partly from how good it felt, and partly from the fact that she was doing it in front of her husband Michael. Dorian's body felt like none she'd ever had before. It was heavy set, canine, with his voice deep, his grunts low and resonating, and his moans echoing her own feline complaints of pleasure.

She agreed to it because Michael wanted it, and he wanted to watch it. She had no feelings about Dorian whatsoever. I'm doing this for Michael. I love him. Think about it like making love to Michael, giving your body to him in a different way.

But it was impossible to maintain that illusion with how starkly different the two men were. Her husband was a mouse who came up to her height, and had a trim, athletic figure. Dorian was an older doberman with a dad-body physique, huge arms and legs, and an overall powerful canine countenance that couldn't be ignored. His sheath and penis were so differently shaped, heavier, and was filling her in ways she found toe-curling and impossible to tune out, even as he was contained within his canine shaped condom.

She made eye contact with Michael once, seeing him in over Dorian's shoulder, watching him caress himself in self-pleasure. Her look was desperate for meaning, to reconcile all she was feeling in the moment with some connection to her husband. His own look in return barely registered as connection. A hazed over, pleasured look from the act she was performing for his sake. In that moment, he wasn't the same man who'd made love to her countless times before. He was someone else, passively absorbing the pleasure of other people and indulging in his own sympathetic feelings for two people who'd become his pornography for the evening.

Debra wondered, before and during, why Michael chose someone for her to sleep with who was so incredibly different than himself.

That was the moment she let herself go. When she felt she no longer had the comforting tether to her husband, that she allowed herself to really feel what she was doing. Losing herself in Dorian's incredible rhythm, the heavy breathing from his canine jaws, the raw masculine power he embodied as he loomed over her with a form that weighed nearly twice her mouse husband's. She reached up to grasp his shoulders, his back, as her cream colored thighs squeezed his powerful hips and love handles, toes spreading, letting the waves of pleasure from his uniquely shaped dick build within her until she felt herself taken.

She focused on the new, exotic male. The shape and scent of his body unlike any other she'd had. The overwhelming power of his rolling thrusts as he increased the tempo and their bed springs began to creak. The way his muscles felt when she dragged her claws down his heavy back and gripped his larger ass. The sounds of his low grunts that she responded to with her feminine whimpers and cries.

Her husband knew the right spots to stimulate, to focus on, the pace she liked, and how to bring her to orgasm. But Dorian felt like he was muscling pleasure out of her without giving her a choice. His cock slowly changed shape, became swollen in the middle and especially at the base, locked in with her body in a way she'd never felt before, adding pressure to the entrance and being unable to withdraw as the pace of their fucking picked up in intensity. She came again and again, her muscles trying to contract around that incredible mass, which was just bullying back at her and not giving her any quarter, causing her to peak to plateau and continue rolling until she'd lost her mind entirely. Her gaze was smoldering, imploring, her eyes fixed on his ferociously large face as she felt his breathing change and knew he was coming to his own peak.

Debra never took her eyes off Dorian. Eyes locked, contorted in mutual pleasure as he started to groan and she felt his sheath press to her sex, causing her to try to close her feet around him and implore further with her paws. She wanted his kiss, but that was off limits. The rules against cementing emotional connections was there for a reason. Perhaps it would be effective. But in that moment, she knew following the rules was just a performance. Rules could govern their actions, but not the burning desire to feel what those actions would bring.

Barriers robbed their mutual pleasure of what sex should naturally be. A small loss in the moment, as she felt Dorian's climax overcome him and his immense, heavy cock begin to throb inside her, his warm streams of semen contained by the thin layer of latex guarding them both from going too far. But what was there was the recognition of their shared desire. She watched his face, the emotional connection fleeting, but replaced by the sternness of his gaze, the driven force behind his outpouring, as he ground his body against hers and kept her spread wide open with his strong thighs. She was nakedly aware of how strong his clenching muscles were. The raw intent behind his body language made her head swim in that moment.

It was in those moments, halfway through Dorian's orgasm, and as they were both breathing hard, and so keenly aware of each other's bodies, that she felt the strongest desire to draw him into a kiss. She refrained, and kept her head pushed into her pillow behind her. She consoled herself by gliding a paw over his large, black and tan chest.

For just a second, in her mind, Michael ceased to exist.

As Debra was brought back to an awareness of her surroundings, Dorian was slowly leaving her, his somewhat subsided knot sliding out of her reluctant sex. The sensation made her arch and gasp. She was in their bedroom again. Michael was toweling himself off. The men were talking, and she was picking up on Michael's higher pitch exchanging words with Dorian's lower tones.

Michael leaned over to kiss his wife's face as she savored the afterglow. He looked happy, satisfied, while she looked back with a haze of pleasure on her face, like a mask covering the strange inner feelings swirling inside her. The complexity of her conflicting emotions was compounded by him revealing to her that Dorian would be staying the night, and she was free to share the bed with him. True, it was late, and all parties were tired. But that was a justification that draped over what was really happening like a thin see-through gauze hoping to obscure any real feelings she may have about it.

You asked another man to sleep with your wife, she thought. Something has changed. Something you can't undo. Debra was only dimly aware of the thoughts within her own psyche bubbling up. There was a low understanding from her primal nature, a side which was usually heavily suppressed, that the strong handsome mouse who'd married this cat, had confessed a profound weakness. His authority diminished. A destabilizing usurper had been welcomed in, and he'd taken his mate. To Michael it may have been everything he wanted in a single isolated evening. But to Debra, something had been threatened. Whatever she could cling to for stability in her marriage had just been slightly dislodged, and her instincts told her to seek the other.

Within those feelings was a strange sense of power. Michael's arousal for her had lead to his devotion, and now to a level of sexual freedom and authority she'd not exercised before.

“Sure, sweetheart. I don't mind sharing the bed with Dorian, tonight," stated casually in the sweet tones of a concession. It disguised the reality of, “I want nothing more than to feel this huge beast of a man right here next to me all night."

Sleep was elusive. The glow of the television playing a movie was the distraction needed to prevent any deeper conversation with Dorian, another layer of artificiality to prevent further connection. But the volume was low, and the drone facilitated sleep for the big dog before the feline could follow.

Debra stared at his big sleeping form in the dim light of the bedroom, partly covered in sheets. She kept thinking about how he felt, the way he moved, how unique and good he was inside of her. How strongly she'd let herself go. His scent filled her with a strange kind of peace. Masculine and comforting, despite their innate differences. And the fact that he's not your husband.

She still hadn't processed just what this would mean, as sleep finally overcame her, laying next to her latest lover, drifting off to the thought. Whatever had changed for Michael in getting what he wanted, something inside of herself had changed forever. Something he didn't know about.

The feline awoke in the middle of the night, unaware of when she'd finally been able to sleep, as brief as it was. The room was glowing with the light of the television. The only other sounds were the crickets outside and the sleepy stirring of the large canine body beside her. It was in those sleepy moments, half conscious, half in a hazy, mindless state, where the outside world didn't exist. There was only what was directly in front of her. The daylight world was a million miles away and one was dwelling in that transitory awareness of mind.

Debra was softly aware that she'd draped her arm over Dorian's large belly and was running her fingers through the thin tangles of fur there, feeling the density of his core, and the unique texture of fur and skin. Her sleepy awareness drew in his scent through her nose, bringing back the memory of her evening, and the empowering transgression she felt inside. Dorian's large canine head turned toward hers. His eyes were barely open.

Waking up in the middle of the night brought one to a shameless honesty as the anxieties and restrictions of normal daily life were melted away by sleep. There was no other cause for what she did, then. Had he said something? Had she mumbled something back to him? The ring on her finger glinted against whatever dim lighting the room allowed while her paw strayed south. She met the doberman's heavy jaws with a sensual and illicit kiss.

Nothing was holding her back. Awareness of rules, awareness of vows - the restraint of better judgment and caution giving way to a sleepy instinct, only dimly aware of her desire that lead to this transgression. They were kissing passionately. She tasted his mouth, opening her smaller lips and accepting his tongue as he slipped it over hers in a languid caress. Their heads moved, exploring this cheating connection in the darkness of her bedroom. The bedroom that belonged to Michael. She felt her arousal responding even more strongly than before. Her marriage didn't exist here. Only her instincts. His canine aggression expressed through a sensual rhythm in the kiss, a steady lapping into her open mouth as she accepted, breathing heavily against the rows of large, pointed teeth in his jaws.

Her paw was on his sheath, feeling the fur of it, the wetness that leaked, the mass it contained, sliding along his heavy balls and back up again to press his emerging, red canine cock against his belly. Her thighs pressed together and her pussy absolutely leaked. There was only the mild awareness she was doing this without permission. A stirring of power began to root within her soul, felt as a shadow that swelled and spurred her on to stake out her sexual independence once more. She was cheating.

Raw, guiltless affirmation of what would happen crept further into her mind as Dorian slipped onto his side and slid a huge, dark furred arm underneath her effortlessly. She was so light compared to him, so small, so nakedly female compared to his heavy masculine bulk. There was a strength to this she never felt with Michael. The mouse held a love without power. She doubted it would ever subside. But this was something else. Power. Strength. Was he aware of what he was doing? Betraying his friend with another shift, a rolling, the sheets spilling off of them as he slid atop her with his bulk.

It was just like before, except now without Michael. Without rules. Without guard rails. There was just the sounds of the night, the flickering glow from the television, the shadows around them silently watching without judgment. His motions weren't a performance. He was kissing her from above, her mouth open, head pushing upward to receive every sensual lick, every stroke of his tongue, to taste his mouth and feel the hot breath they both shared, while her paws slid up around his neck and shoulders, testing the incredible muscles beneath the thin, black fur.

Debra felt her body softening in preparation, a heated core in her belly, responding to the nudge of his cock and soft sheath, the trail of precum left in her fur just above her pussy. She spread her thighs, parting them for him and drawing her knees upward to provide him the angle. Mindlessly opening herself, she ushered in this adulteration of her marriage. The sensation of his initial penetration was more keenly felt than the first time. Already sensitive to it, but more so, the sleepy haze that dominated her mind, along with the burning need to feel it again, the shape of his pointed canine cock sinking into her to slake a hunger she didn't know she had until now.

Dorian's heavy body was flush with hers for a while, his head lifting as the kiss broke, his low growl resonating through Debra while her head pushed back into the pillow, spreading her hair across the sheets. She gasped and clung to his heavy hips with her claws. His low rumbling and growling was a sign of his increased pleasure, the wordless admission and reminder that this time, there was nothing standing in the way of his bare passion inside her unprotected body. She melted to it, the sensation and the knowledge of what she was doing, without the consideration for risks, vows, and consideration for Michael. A secret cruelty she relished in that secret moment as the dog started to rut, slow, steady at first, drawing out and prolonging the rising pleasure in the both of them.

His hips bobbed slowly, his huge ass sliding upward and drawing his swollen red and lavender cock out of her clutching folds and then sliding them back in until his sheath pressed to her. She could feel the depth he reached, like a warm pressure building, extracting her pleasure from multiple places at once. Debra felt the dim recognition of a danger, not of the immediate sexual pleasure, but of how good this felt. Dorian was uninhibited, he wasn't performing, he was being natural, rutting, the bed starting to creak while she clutched his love handles, then the cheeks of his heavy ass, enjoying his immense weight and the sensation of his large, oval balls resting against her ass the end of each stroke. His tongue sliding up her neck, his jaw taking her neck for another growl, her hand coming up to his head and clutching at his thin fur in helpless acceptance.

He was making love to her. It wasn't a rut to entertain someone else. She was sharing her body with only in him that moment, and her emotions, and soul followed. Helpless minutes ticking by during that illicit cheating, his bare canine cock swelling in ways Michael's never did, never could, and would never match. Pleasure rose from places Michael could never reach. The huge canine kissed her in a passionate yet feral way Michael couldn't compare to. Her husband wasn't here, and in that moment, he didn't matter. A crystal clear kind of cruelty made her feel a jolt of arousal, empowerment, and a soaring soul to feel this dog sully her body and take what was his by a kind of natural right that forsook whatever society said was right or wrong.

Then he was fucking her, pumping his hips up and down and adding jolts of sensation through her core with every impact. Her feline feet hovered in the air, spreading and curling uncontrollably, claws extending and flexing over and over. They were nose to nose as lovers, shared breath washing over each other, the scent of each other's musk, the unique odor of their combined mating, building and adding an erotic layer to their wordless affair. Eyes gleamed in the night, and both knew dimly, at some level, something would have to be done prior to the ultimate violation. The moment when a boundary would be crossed should be stopped, but neither could. They were propelled by their own desire and inability to speak, giving in to a nature that was deeper and stronger than either one of their considerations for Michael.

Debra felt his knot swelling inside her again, preparing to lock and hold itself within her, the amazing shape being budged back and forth within by his ceaseless thrusting. Her eyes closed, head tossed back, her orgasm brought out of her by a sensation no other species could give. The spots he could stimulate, the melting of her g-spot causing her thighs to shake heavily as her pelvic muscles struggled against the heavenly intrusion. She squirted on his crotch, his balls, staining the sheets with a growing darkness. She muffled her cries by biting her lip, allowing only heavy huffs and squeaks to emerge.

Dorian's groans were long and low in her ear, and she knew it was going to cum inside her. Still shivering, her orgasm drawn out until she had another, and then felt another peak rising, her teeth bit into the junction of his shoulder at neck, feeling the strong muscle flex beneath it, as the doberman started to throb inside her body. His heavy cock was filling her from the entrance all the way to her posterior fornix, his pulse felt at the gate to her womb. There was no spare give, no slack inside her as every inch was filled with his veiny canine mass, so that every jolt of his release, every hot stream of his carelessly ejaculated sperm was felt by her body. She dragged claws down his back, leaving trails of small cuts, until she clutched his ass firmly, keeping him held in tightly.

It's okay. It's so good. Michael's not here. Keep doing it.

Halfway through Dorian's climax, he caught her in another kiss, sliding his tongue into her mouth which opened once more. She felt his drooling black lips, his heavy teeth, his jaws feeding her his taste that she gratefully swallowed as she took as much of him into her as she could. It was a burst of careless freedom.

Debra's motions were slow, affectionate, now. Her thighs were spread and her ass lifted from the bed by Dorian's massive legs which spread to either side of her hips. Every one of his throbs was like heaven, every stream of his cum pouring into her core, until it had nowhere to go and a streak sprayed out over his balls and drizzled down her ass and onto the bed.

They stayed tied together longer than necessary. There was no rush, no need to extract Dorian, and they remained pressed together, his heavy, comfortable weight bearing down on her while they kissed in the dim bedroom. Debra was still too hazy to think straight, partly from the cloud of sleepiness as well as the foggy high she caught from such an intense, soul-quaking series of orgasms, combined with Dorian's heavy canine scent. It caught her mind like a drug, the scent of his exertion and sweat now associated with this new, exciting sensation. The desire for it wouldn't leave her again.

Sleep did come eventually for the both of them again. It was easier this time. A great calm overtook Debra, melting away her earlier wonder, the mental torment from before no longer keeping her from sleep. When Dorian was extracted from her, and they fell asleep in each other's arms, it was almost instantaneous. Her insides were violated, warm, and her body subtly squirmed in its afterglow, as her feline nature writhed in the pleasure of her adultery.

As before, their sleep was short lived. Debra wasn't sure if she stirred first, or if the doberman had moved once more. Still sleepy but slightly more energized, her inhibitions now utterly gone while wrapped in the secret cloak of night, she dragged her tongue across his heavy muzzle, and he'd slurped her back across the chin. His lick made her shiver, and she opened her eyes to him again and saw him looking back with the dark stare of a canine man, his huge paw sliding down her back to caress one side of her shapely feline ass.

She raised it, tail curling upward and high as she stretched further awake. Still dripping from his previous mating, she was bracing her knees underneath herself on the bed, raising her hindquarters enticingly behind her.

“Again…" he whispered, not quite as a question. But she took it that way.

“Fuck me like I'm your bitch," she whispered back. Her own words hit her hard, feeling what was in her mind all night spill out of her mouth added a jolt of reality to everything. As if morning would bring normalcy back to her life, she sought to be the promiscuous alley cat until then. And her mate wasn't her husband. It wasn't some tomcat. It was this huge, horny, powerful dog, master of all of them.

Her head was pushed into the sheets, her teeth grasping them, claws sliding and rending cuts into the bedding as Dorian hiked one thigh and pumped into her from behind. His huge dark paws were around her narrow waist and every thrust beat against her thighs and ass, sending her muscles rippling and jolting. The new position added new sensation, a new ferality to how she felt about this. Like an animal prowling the streets, bypassing her usual mate to find something stronger, and letting him take her in husband's bed. She could feel his balls swinging against her, and his heavy panting behind her, the bed creaking again and her body adding a soft clapping to the heavy rhythm of his mounting rut.

As more of his weight pushed onto her from above, her thighs spread wider and she sank lower until she was prone, with only her pelvis lifted from the bed to receive his heavy thrusts. The position caused him to hit her g-spot every time, and she was racing toward another climax, even faster than before. Unsure if it was attributed to the position, or whether he'd unlocked some deep rooted need within her she didn't know she had; she spread her toes across the sheets, tearing them, burying her mouth into the pillow and screaming into it a muffled cry as his knot started to swell again. His drool was on her fur. His huffing breath in her ear, as his heavy canine anatomy started to just crush her most tender spot, mashing it against her pelvic bone and trapping streams of her own squirting gush.

He was grunting, moaning, locked inside of her and she felt him throbbing again. Her feline ass was grinding up agains this lap and pressing to his prodigious mass, his belly resting in her curved back, and she turned her head to kiss his muzzle, licking the black lining of his lips with passion, affection, one hand holding his head while it drooped over her shoulder and he trembled through his third release of the evening.

Debra knew she'd be sore and she didn't care. She was euphoric. Dorian seemed to cum in buckets and she felt a warm gush as he pulled back from her after their prolonged post-coital cuddling. It was warm, most of it was still inside her, and she felt the instinct to squirm in a hazy kind of happiness. The only thing that stopped her was the unrelenting fatigue, as they both fell asleep even faster than before.

The next morning threatened her with clarity. The light of sunrise came through the blinds, unconcerned for the things Debra had allowed to happen, everything Dorian had done despite his promises to Michael and a consideration of his rules. The world kept turning relentlessly, and normal life was returning as it progressed toward daylight.

She and Dorian exchanged a glance. There weren't words that needed to be spoken. She saw the claw marks on his back as he got up to use their bathroom before getting dressed. The cat groggily sat up in bed, stretching. Her mind started to come back online, recounting the evening's events. The turmoil of emotions was back. A sense that something had changed forever. Her own instincts in the face of Michael's proposition, unlocked. Dimly aware that it was his idea all along, though she'd taken it farther than he ever intended. Farther than he even permitted.

The guilt was subdued. Just a mild streak of it amidst the tender soreness of her body, and the memories of her sexual excess throughout the night.

That was just us. It was our thing. Michael doesn't have to know.

She resolved to mask it the way she always covered up the sense that something could be wrong with anything. She would be happy. Dressing in her panties and a shirt, she went into the bathroom to watch Dorian brush his teeth; she leaned against his heavy back from behind. His docked tail was wagging.

“Good morning, Michael!" she chirped happily as she descended the stairs with Dorian. She could smell the coffee Michael had brewed and made for a pot after kissing his cheek and making small talk.

Dorian departed after their meaningless chatting. The discussion of their evening hadn't even come up. But for her, the feeling of it lingered. A layer of complication hovered in the air over them. It wasn't in a stifling way, but it added scope to what she was capable of, and what she felt released to do.

Perhaps it was best unspoken of, for now.

She gave her husband morning head, something she loved to do. This time with a touch more intent. His average cock felt somewhat welcome, a normal facet of her life, familiar, easy to deal with, nothing amazing and also not boring. Like a well worn attribute she'd grown comfortable with, loving it as a mask for that tiny streak of guilt that still lingered in her conscience.

He's given you things. The takes care of things. He has a great job. He's given you the house, a warm bed, all the affection you've ever wanted, a nice car to drive, and he works so hard to keep it coming and keep things stable.