FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Barret sighed heavily as he pushed the door closed behind him with a hoof, the horse yanking his tie away from his neck with undisguised contempt. Along with his tie he tossed his jacket over the back of the couch, abandoning them on his way to the kitchen while he pulled at the buttons keeping his shirt on. The towering horse shook his head as his hooves hit tile, pulling the shirt open and untucked it from his pants to toss it over the back of one of the dining chairs before he pulled open the fridge to retrieve a beer. What a day. Unbuckling his belt and loosening his slacks, Barret ascended the stairs to the second floor, playing his routine game of ‘will my pants fall down before I make it to my room or not’ as he took a long pull from the bottle. The long weekend had taken its sweet time in getting here, so the horse was committed to making as little effort at everything for the near future as he could. His phone gave a quiet ping in his pocket as the horse shuffled awkwardly into the master bedroom with his pants around his fetlocks. “Better not be the office...” He grumbled once his backside hit the mattress and he yanked his pants the rest of the way off. “Swear to...” A notification from his son flashed on the screen, and the horse felt his nerves settle and his sheath stir. Staring back at him from the screen was another horse, barely out of high school and beaming a vibrant smile that forced one out of the larger stallion without fail. “Dad! Downtown for the evening, don’t wait up!” The text put a slight damper on Barret’s mood, the horse having been looking forward to spending time with his son. The boy having always been the perfect balm after stressful weeks. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He tapped out a reply, then started scrolling up through their message history while he took another swig and slumped back onto the bed. Plans for his grad party, the ceremony, the timings, a picture of the young horse looking dashingly handsome in his graduation robes and cap for his yearbook photo. Even if he wasn’t at home, Barret felt mollified, the troubles of the week melting away slowly at first, then quicker the more scrolling he did. His son’s narrow snout pursed into pouting lips, the fur all rich brown changing quickly to sheer black at the end of his muzzle, posing with giant sunglasses at the side of their pool making him look every bit the smug little asshole he was trying to appear as. A joke that had got Barret laughing instantly given his son was one of the most timid and shy people in his life. The picture before that showed his son’s long auburn legs, stretching out on a lawn chair under the beaming sun, his flat stomach shining and matted as he had just exited the pool where two of his friends still slapped water at each other. Barret’s sheath stirred again as his eyes fell into the smooth grooves at his son’s narrow hips, the spaces guiding his gaze down to the waistband of his clinging swim shorts where the notable mound of his sheath sat proud and pronounced. Their texts were less those typically shared between father and son at this point, more between a pair in lust with each other. Mostly initiated by his son, naturally. He was blessed with his father's libido, his lusts, and his preferences as they had discovered just a year prior. The boy wanted nothing more than to tease his old man, goad him when he could, then ride the wave of pent up aggression once the older stallion finally got his hands on the little mare. There was nothing either of them loved more than teasing each other. At this point, Barret was fully in the mood, and while his son was off doing things he knew he'd be doing in his place, the older stallion would just have to content himself with the small library the two had generated. His son posing before a mirror, a jockstrap a size too small stretched taut over his narrow hips, the pouch in front strained with a swollen sheath and sack as would make any equine father proud. The real prize of that article of clothing though was the brown furred globes of his sons ass, framed perfectly within the white fabric borders of the straps, his black tail lifted and taunting any viewer with the treasure buried between them. His son, kneeling on the floor of his master bedroom in that same jock, fingers splayed on the carpet as he leaned forward with a hopeful urgent look on his pretty muzzle. Between slender legs strained his jock, the fabric of the pouch stretched away from his pelvis in a show of how hard the boy was at that moment, the waistband not even able to connect with his flat stomach. His son. Lips stretched around half of a pillar of sheer ebony horsecock that glistened just past the medial ring. Watery wanting eyes met the camera Barret had taken the picture with, begging for more or begging for forgiveness for only being able to take eighty percent of his sire's length before his throat harshly fought back. His beautiful little mare, still on his knees but leaning back now with strands of cum hanging from the corners of his mouth and a column of soaked and matted fur running from his throat to his crotch. His jock still strained, the black mottled flesh just visible through the soaked white fabric, still ignored, still begging in its own way for attention. Slightly blurry in the foreground, putting that wet pouch and a host of other stallions to shame, listed Barrett's own length. Still stiff enough to protrude lewdly from between his legs, limp enough to curve downwards in a graceful arc as his still flared head dribbled seed onto his son below. Christ that boy was going to get it when he got home. Be it tonight or the next morning, still drunk or hungover or completely sober, fresh or used or severely worn out, he was going to get it. For now, Barret had to content himself with their library and the hand he stroked his massive cock with. Normally he would bring someone over; some cock-hungry whore to whet his whistle until his son returned. Someone drawn in to the promise of a breeding stallion with balls heavier than cantaloupes only to find that the reality of giving themselves up to one is much less forgiving and comfortable than porn made it seem. Oh but his son took to it like a natural... Only another horse could properly withstand a stallion like Barret, and naturally it was his own offspring that did it best. After the week he had had though, the thought of bringing over a stranger didn't hold enough appeal. Barret barely had the energy to push himself up to his hooves and out of his bedroom, but he wanted to unwind and take care of his thick bobbing erection in comfort. Clopping heavily down into the basement, he flicked on the large television, sorted through the files on an attached hard drive, and pressed play on a run of homemade porn. Music rumbled to life as the video started playing, Barret busying himself with a rolled joint from a drawer in the liquor cabinet across the room. With his dick still twitching, he lifted the joint to his lips and snapped on a lighter, inhaling long and deep as the music and sporadic groans of men fucking filled his ears. He remembered coming home once to the smell of weed, not in the least surprised to find it coming from the basement he now stood in and the small group of students that had made it their temporary den. His son had found his stash, that much was clear, and the shocked guilty look on the younger horses face would have tugged at Barrett's heart strings if the youth didn't have his snout buried into the pubes of one of his friends while the others watched and stroked themselves and each other. The stallion slumped onto the same sofa he had caught them all making use of, mind softening and barely even registering the video playing on the screen as the recollection took centre stage. That night he joined his son and several of his closest long time friends in a game of "Who Can Take Dad's Cock Deepest". His dick stood stiffly between his legs, straining to bury itself in something but receiving only a firm squeeze at its thick base from his hand. He sympathized, but patience was one of his virtues. There was a ping from his phone a moment after he took a third long drag, his body and mind tingling and relaxed in spite of the interruption. He swiped open a new message from his son, and a fresh pulse of pre-cum oozed from his top as he saw the photo it accompanied. There he was again, at one club or another standing in a heavily graffitied bathroom, flanked by two of his friends who both looked to be well into their drinks, grins plastered on all three faces, all of them knowing who the picture was for and eager to be part of it. Shorts that barely covered beyond mid-thigh, the straps of jocks proudly displayed above their waistbands. His son was bare chested save for a quality black harness Barrett had gotten him as a graduation present. Where his friends had gotten theirs he didn't bother asking, but they all took to the look perfectly, his son naturally being the best of the three. There was no shame in him as he snapped a picture of his flexing dick and sent it their way. His mind, working as if in molasses, already picturing the trio dropping everything to come home and lather his crotch in kisses and licks. Unlikely to happen, but he was already letting himself picture it. His son kneeling off to the side while Barret forced his dick down the throats of his friends, taunting the boy by giving his rough affections to his peers. He'd get each of them to ride in daddy's lap, laugh at their discomfort as his length filled them and stretched them; growl in satisfaction as they yelped and moaned and begged and squealed under him... Another ping. His mind was comfortably fuzzy, and in spite of his patience, Barret was starting to find the interruptions to his fantasies cumbersome, even though there had been quite a jump in time from the last text he had received. Long enough for something unexpected to happen... "Your boy's a cheap date." The words took a moment to register in his mind as he watched a small clock icon with spinning hands appear in the bottom of the conversation. The image that appeared froze Barret in place and made his dick throb all the harder. His son, resplendent in his harness was sitting astride an imposing looking tiger, the one who evidently had sent the text and image given how his muscular arm disappeared off-screen in the direction the phone was being held. His boy was perched in the larger males lap, his shorts nowhere to be found while his tented jock stuck out from his crotch and hung just above the bulging package hanging low between the felines legs. Of the tiger himself, his grin stood out more than anything else. His expression screamed "I found a kinky twink who really loves his daddy." Another picture appeared a moment later, Barret's steel hard cock not flagging in the slightest, the porn on the tv utterly forgotten, his fuzzy mind intensely focused. His son, his pride and joy, was sat halfway down a thick veiny length of cock. While it had none of the majesty of a stallion's, it made up for it in sheer thickness and coupled with an impressive low hanging sack below. Even Barret had to admit he was nothing to scoff at, and seeing his son already partway impaled gave him a thrilling sense of pride. Well, it was nothing Barret wouldn't have done at his age, he supposed. The number of sons he had pinned in his lap while their own fathers were none the wiser... The stallion took another heavy drag, stroked himself just a bit quicker as he spotted the spinning clock again. "Atta boy." He grumbled, smoke drifting from his muzzle when the next image loaded. His son's legs were spread wide, his ass firmly set into the Tigers lap with each fat inch buried under his tail. "Fuckin' good boy..." His balls tightened. The head of his cock flaring wide, threatening to erupt, but he held himself off. Minutes passed by, time crawling agonizingly slow as Barret pumped his hand up and down, wet squelches as he smeared pre-cum over his length slowly coming to mix with the myriad groans and grunts and slaps sounding from the tv. A video. A shaking, blurred mess of a video. The kind Barret enjoyed keeping on his hard drive. The view panned slowly, a private room wherever they were. He saw one of his son’s friends, Oz, kneeling between the spread legs of a bulky looking hyena, his head bobbing enthusiastically while the bigger male leaned back with a wide grin. Further panning revealed Andy, a graceful little antelope on all fours with his face in a wolf’s crotch while another mounted him from behind on a wide couch. More shaking as the video turned back to his son, groaning and whimpering as he bounced himself in the tiger’s lap, his eyes fluttering as he gripped his own mane and showed off everything he had for his father and anyone else in the room. “He got it all,” The tiger’s snout peeked into view, pressed up to his son’s ear, the grin ever-present. “So he gets the treat he asked for.” A striped hand appeared next with a small brown capsule pinched between its clawed thumb and forefinger. It didn’t take much pondering for Barret to know what it was as his boy opened wide and took the tiger’s fingers into his mouth, suckling wetly on each digit until the capsule was gone and for long moments after. The video cut off.