FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

It was a small bedroom: Sky blue walls illuminated by the orange tone of the setting sun, light filtering through the single large window; a messy bed and a set of clothes on the floor next to it, where their owner had forgotten them the night before; a small desk to the side, with an open laptop and several papers on it, some of them threatening to fall on the ground; a half-open closet in which were several tanks and shirts, an extra lab coat, shoes, socks and underwear of varying sizes all neatly put away in their drawers. And unknown to all, hidden under the bed, a small box full of... Well, the room's owner would certainly rather keep those a secret.

The door opened and said owner stepped in with a huff. The wind that kicked in was the last push that one paper on the desk needed to fall, but he didn't pay it any mind. A duffel bag fell on the floor next to the bed, just as his foot pushed the door closed, and his heavy body fell on the sheets with another huff. Then a sigh...

Sain's eyes opened back up. The wolf stared at his ceiling, thankful to himself from two seconds ago for not turning the light on; it would be blinding him right now, and it was the last thing he needed. He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to fall asleep right here, right now, as the night turned darker outside. His eyes closed back up again and a hand aimlessly wandered up his body, pulling bits of his tank up and revealing the flat stomach underneath, the massive muscles coated in a short layer of soft baby blue fur. Fingers sank through and he felt the hardened abs, until a pleased whimper left his throat.

A long shift at the hospital from which he escaped too late, leading to a packed gym with all machines taken at almost all times. The entire damn day was too much, and he was struggling to keep his eyes open. The only thing he had to more or less show for the day was the insane pump he got on his chest. Plump pecs, almost throbbing from the effort, exposed to the world behind the strings of his tank. The air on his room brushed against his exposed pink nipples, and the hand that had been rubbing his abs went up, groping and squeezing the flesh, pinching the perky nub simply out of fun. A shiver crawled up Sain's spine as a gasp crossed his lips, but neither of those made his actions lessen in intensity; if anything, he groped his own pec harder.

The second hand reached down instead. While the left roughly handled his flesh, the right slipped inside his shorts, the fabric already straining from the width of this thighs. His hand made a noticeable outline as it invaded his jockstrap, finally coming across the stiffening rod inside. A good squeeze and his gasping turned into whimpering, thumb excitedly pressing against the tip just as a drop of pre started pushing out. He took advantage of it right away, coating his head until it was slick with the substance. And yet, it kept gushing out.

Out of coincidence, he happened to turn around just as his arm rose a bit. The pungent, overwhelming musk from his pits assaulted his sensitive nostrils, and the exhaustion immediately vanished. His body still felt heavy, but his mind was suddenly clear; yet still edging towards the realm of arousal, as his hands kept touching his body, emitting the masculine essence that only excited him further.

"Wow..." he sighed. As active as his sex life was, it was rare for him to get into the mood himself. He was usually egged into it by his partner, sometimes aggressively; not like he disliked it, quite the opposite. But to catch himself like this alone... The pump, the exhaustion, the smell and that cute guy on the gym, leaning and showing off that big butt, where definitely factors to blame for it.

But he knew, deep down, the real reason had more to do with older memories. Memories of multiple men of varying ages, most of them nameless, some of them even faceless- Strangers in suits whose hands reached for his bare body, leaving bills on the string of a thong in exchange for a chance to touch. The memory made his length twitch in his hold, and another whimper abandoned Sain.

A deep breath and the pungent aroma reached his nostrils once again. The musk, so powerful, so enticing... A long day leading to a rushed gym session, after which he had no time to shower there. As much as the smell affected him, his common sense won him over in the end. What he needed wasn't to lie down and jerk off, but a long, nice shower to wash away the sweat clinging to his muscles and fur. And yet, he couldn't quite shake off the idea...

With every ounce of willpower he still had left on him, he stood back up. Hands once again free, he stretched with his back to the window, watching as the last rays of sunlight abandoned his room. As the darkness grew, he found just enough confidence to kneel and reach into that little box of secrets under his bed, taking it with him just in case.

Home alone, his journey from his bedroom to the bathroom was short and uneventful. He was thankful for it; better to avoid any question regarding the contents of the box under his arm. Even so, the first thing he did once he reached was lock the door behind him, even before turning the light on. The white, pristine walls that greeted him were a welcome sight. He left the box next to the sink and reached for his tank. There was something pleasing about the way the fabric peeled off his body after such a hard workout, and he enjoyed the sudden sense of freedom his bare torso provided.

He looked in the mirror, the tank still in his hand, and his eyes lingered on the plump chest. He could still feel the pump, the burn of his presses, as if he had just finished. The shirt fell on the ground and his hands reached for his pecs, squeezing. He had to bite his lower lip to keep the moans down, and his own reflection on the mirror stared back. Many of his old clients liked playing with mirrors, forcing him to see the slut he became for them, making him feel guilty, dirty. He enjoyed it more than he wanted to.

Why was he even trying to stay silent? He was alone, and he had all the time in the world to enjoy that solitude, with nothing but himself and his body. At worst, the neighbors would complain, start some mindless ramblings about the noise. Echoes bouncing off the ventilation, from outside his window. He wondered if they would be so relentless on keeping him quiet if they knew what was making those noises in the first place. Some of them would be too ashamed to even look him in the eye. And yet, he couldn't help but ask himself, which ones would be willing to join him during his activities, help him make the delectable sounds. Just like those clients of old had done so before. What neighbors hid a secret desire to have his body, like so many men had done so before.

His hands roamed down his body, trying to emulate the same excited movements from those days. He reached the shorts surprisingly fast and took them off, almost as if he wanted to rip them off his thighs. They were forgotten on the floor as his eyes remained glued to his reflection, to the fabric of his jockstrap being stretched and punished by his furious boner. Hands went for his ass almost right away, giving it the same rough squeeze that they gave; they were always so excited when they first lay eyes on it, unable to resist the urge to torture. He couldn't remember how many times his cheeks ended up too sensitive for him to even sit for a while. And feeling himself up, he could see why so many men enjoyed his buttocks.

Fingers pulled his jock's band, and with each movement, more of the powerful musk from his balls aired out, rising and reaching his nostrils right away. The sweat of hard work, coupled with the pheromones of exercise; his own was a smell he was intimately familiar with, and it made his length throb in excitement. He was slower with his underwear, taking it off almost with a show. His clients always enjoyed it when he took his time, when he shook his hips a bit before his cock jumped out. But unlike the rest of his clothes, he didn't just toss it away once his legs were out. He held it in his hands, eyeing it with hunger, looking in the mirror as if asking for permission to an invisible man behind him, somewhere in his memory.

"Yes, sir," he said out of a habit he thought long forgotten and pressed the musky jock against his nose. A deep whiff and he was suddenly in paradise. The powerful scent invaded his nose, filled his lungs in a matter of seconds, and he felt his entire body relax, save for the standing erection that started throbbing harder than before. He pushed the jock against his snout, needing more of his own essence in him, craving it... His free hand reached down and held his cock in a tight grasp, squeezing it until he gasped from the pressure; and then leaned forward, until the musky fabric was trapped between his teeth and his tongue could gently lap at it.

He looked in the mirror again. There it was, the slut he was in his past. How many men called him that back in the day, before shoving their dicks down his mouth to punish him? And yet, he wanted them to do it again right now. He started stroking his length, already milking it, giving it a couple harsh squeezes to get whimpers out of his own throat. A throat he wanted filled so bad.

The box still sat on the sink, waiting for him. He eyed it cautiously, knowing its contents and the power they held over him. He spit the jockstrap back on the floor, but it meant nothing; his scent was already permeating the air around him, clinging to the walls of his nose. His arousal was at an all high, yet far from its peak; and he wanted more. It was just enough to get him to reach for the box and open it, diving into the old, slick contents. When his fingers came across the long, thick, familiar shape, he pulled out...

An old dildo, bigger than his own member, rigid and perfectly white, covered in veins that almost felt as if pulsing in real time. An old gift from an old client, who had used his own length as model. There was something so depraved about the whole thing that made Sain blush every time he remembered he kept it. He stared at it for a few more seconds, before the ache in his throat struck him again, causing his ears to flatten in shame.

His lips parted, and he wasn't sure what happened next; whether he brought the toy closer to his face, or he leaned towards it. One way or another, he ended up putting the tip on his mouth before leaving it on the counter, kneeling in front of it and taking inch after inch down his throat. His hand held it in place, stroking and rubbing as if it was the real thing, while he bobbed up and down, filling his mouth and getting the tip to poke the back of this throat. His own rod stiffened even more; how it was possible, he had no idea, but it felt like a steel bar as he jerked it, his efforts growing more furious by the second.

With every bob, he took an extra bit of that man's cock. Toy or not, he couldn't picture it any other way, as if his cheeks and his lips remembered the ridges in his length. Every inch he took in, he felt his throat grow fuller, his gag reflex long gone. He sucked and drooled all over it, just needing something filling him somewhere while he jerked off. His whole body felt warmer from the dildo alone: His chest heaved with what little air he got, and his hole clenched instinctively, craving the object as much as his throat did mere seconds ago.

He let go and gasped for air. To think a mere toy could get the best of him like this... With the back of his free hand, he cleaned the drool from his snout, and then looked down. His member was oozing pre like crazy, and his hand had taken it all and coated the entire rod with it. It seeped between his fingers, covered the pink skin of his dick and glistened from the bathroom's light. And yet, more and more of it kept coming out, drop after pearly drop, caught by eager fingers and used to get himself slick.

"You're so good at this, sir," he whimpered, once again to no one in particular, before sitting on the floor with a sigh and a chuckle. "You're talking to yourself, Sain. You, naughty boy," and another chuckle escaped his lips.

His strokes slowed down as he looked at his member. It felt good; too good, in fact. It would be over soon, and he would be filled with regret over not enjoying it as much as possible. The men he had been with in his youth had a way of extending the pleasure. Perhaps because they paid by the hour; made sense they'd want to milk it for their money's worth. On his own, all he could do was reach again for that little box of secrets and pull out a rubber cock band, yet another of those things his clients enjoyed using on him. He had to keep the flooding memories from getting him harder.

Squeezing his erect member through the band was a challenge, but one he was already familiar with. A few rich men took sick pleasure in getting him hard only to squeeze him into smaller things; one particularly large man, with fingers almost as thick as his member, used his own wedding ring as a cock ring. To this day, Sain still felt guilty over how hard that got him. But at the very least, it was good practice to finally get his now hardened length squeezed at the base by this band, balls further pulled down and held in place as well. He trembled over how trapped he was, and how nice it felt.

Then came the dildo, still standing on the counter next to the sink. Looking up at it from the floor, it was almost like looking at its owner again. But instead of awe, Sain allowed his hunger to win him over, and reached for the toy. It now stood on the floor, just as he stood and squatted over it, aiming his hole to the round tip. Just his spit, no lube, exactly like that old pervert liked it. A shiver crossed his spine as he thought of him, as he realized the increasing need to have the real thing in his hole. Part of him wanted to look in his contact list, see if by any chance he had kept the man's number somewhere- Any of them, really! His body ached for a chance of being someone's slave one more time.

The tip pressed and pushed inside him, and more inches followed. The young wolf's ass was slowly spread, his insides making way to welcome the sudden invader. He clenched out of instinct, almost hoping to hear the pleased grunts behind him. But even if nothing came, he pushed down, his body tearing itself apart to the thick length he so hungrily, so passionately wanted inside him. And just like those old times, he remembered the mix of pain and pleasure that surged from his hole and washed over every cell in in. Muscles flexed and his neck grew tense from the effort of taking that thick rod raw; an electric sensation that caused him to roar in agony for a single moment, until his voice became a sultry moan when the tip first poked against his prostate.

He was already hilted on the length and his body trembled from the sensations pulsing throughout. Every time he so much as moved, he felt the length twist with him, drilling on that sensitive spot and making him groan in bliss. He had to bite his knuckle to keep his own voice down, alone as he was, before the neighbors complained. Again. A blush formed on his cheeks as fresher memories invaded him, but it only made him squeeze his length harder.

"Why am I such a slut?" he whimpered, still squeezing himself, loving every sensation his own touch caused. He reached for the sink for support and bit his lower lip to keep the moans low but had no success. The way that toy pressed and pushed inside him, almost throbbing like his own manhood in his grasp, drove him towards the edge.

A restless hand roamed the counter above him, unable to see where it was going. Sain couldn't pay attention in his current state, the heat causing his eyes to grow hazy. His own squeezing didn't help matters. In the end, his hand bumped against the box and it came toppling down, its contents scattered on the ground for the wolf's eyes to see and widen in shame at his own selection. A couple other dildos of varying length and girth, butt plugs and vibrators of different colors, some of them very recently used; nipple clamps, handcuffs, leather straps- All things from his old job, from his more recent escapades, meant to help his partners enjoy the night with him properly. Just looking at them brought back memories of multiple lovers, both old and new, and he swallowed, torn between the inner embarrassment and the intense arousal that made his trapped member throb even harder.

His eyes landed on something to the side and widened even further. A bright red ballgag, held between a pair of leather straps, thrown so far from the rest of the toys, its color contrasted with the white of the floor. It jumped into view, and its shape activated some canine instinct in his brain. His fingers slowly crawled towards the small object, gently poking it at first, as if he was scared it might jump up and bite him instead of him biting on it. It was ideal to keep his moans down, to keep the complains from coming up, but even as his eyes stayed on top of it, he couldn't recall that much time with his jaws clenching around it.

They always liked hearing him scream. His rich voice bouncing off the walls as his body was touched and tortured; nipples pinched and pulled, cock milked into extreme sensitivity, balls and ass smacked red. They always wanted to hear him moan and groan, beg for them to stop, knowing it would only make his punishment last longer. That's why, he could count in one hand how many times he had been made to put on that ballgag by those old perverts; often in parties, where he was told to wait in little more than a jockstrap, only to then be pulled away from the other guests and turned into an object of pleasure.

He took the gag and held it up, eyeing it for a second before slightly opening his mouth. His hand fell with the object, slowly, tantalizingly, and he had to hold back from pushing his tongue out to playfully lap at it, as if it was a cherry presented to him by his multiple lovers. His teeth sank in the material, and he quickly fastened the belts behind his neck. Only once his hands fell to the sides, he realized his breathing was rushed. He hugged himself tightly, a soft whimper leaving his muffled mouth after the slightest turn made the dildo shift around and push against his prostate. His length twitched in reaction, and his hands moved down the muscular chest, trembling to touch it.

But something held him back. A single second in which he swore he could feel a rough hand holding him by the wrist. A hand he recognized from all those clients. They were all there, with him, demanding a show. He could feel them, scratching on the back of his mind, wanting their little wolf slut to entertain them. His hands instead moved up again, poking the gag in his mouth; it was tight, and his voice couldn't get out. He was safe to scream for them, to give them what they desperately needed.

His hands wandered through the floor, patting, searching. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he needed it; his body craved for it. Anything that could give that sensation his skin asked for, that his lovers expected. His fingers brushed against something; something that sent an electric pulse through his muscles before he even saw it. His fingers trailed the faintly familiar shape, picking it up from the floor, going up and down until the mental image was completely drawn in his mind.

Sain's eyes closed. He didn't need them to press the clamps open and push them against his perky nipples. He could feel them standing forward, hard and ready, anticipating the sensations that would soon coat them. With teeth gritted against the rubber, he slowly let each of the clamps go, feeling his flesh give in to the sudden pressure and beyond. Another whimper escaped his throat as more of his chest was clipped and pressed, his nipples trapped under the clamps' biting force. It was almost like a burn spreading through his body, making him shiver from the mix of pain and delight, going all the way down to his leaking member and making it jump excitedly. His hand reached down for it, giving it a good squeeze and feeling the squirt of pre roll down the bright pink length, coating his fingers. He used it to rub and stroke, getting himself slick again, and the sound of his hand against the hardening meat was almost too much.

The free hand went back up, roaming his powerful muscles, feeling up the defined abs under his fur, and finally reaching the muscular pecs. Fat tits, they called them, right before pinching and biting them, sometimes for hours on end. How many men had left teeth and claw marks on his skin, played with the very same clamps harshly holding them right now, and how many of them he silently wished would come here and perform the same acts again. His hungry hand cupped the underside of one such tit and pushed it up, rubbed it, squeezed it; and the clamp moved along, until his nipple was stinging from the pain. Loud, muffled whimpers filled the bathroom, but rather than making the wolf reconsider, they only caused his hand to hold harder and rougher, to pull at his own flesh and squeeze the clamp down. His moans turned into soft gasps and yells, and his body shook as his stroking continued.

Fingers trailed down the clamp, following the line of the small chain linking both sides together. As his thumb fiddled with it, Sain remembered how many times his clients did the exact same thing, teasing him while gently tugging. His nipples burned again, from the memory and the desire to feel that once again. He couldn't help but shiver at how needy his entire body was, how right all those men were. He was a slut; their slut.

His thumb pulled, and the chain's hold tightened, until it started pulling against the clamps. His thumb kept pulling, and the force around his nipples increased. The hold was stronger, harsher, and his throat reacted accordingly, letting out a yell that only grew in intensity the more he pulled, the more the sting on his chest went up. Decibels that clashed against the rubber ball on his mouth, barely coming out through whatever gap was left between them. The bathroom was filled with muffled screams of agony that refused to stop, that got only louder when the wolf started stroking his length again, faster by the second, coated in the slick pre that had long stopped oozing out, the flow stopped by the band around his base.

And without realizing it, Sain's ass started clenching back up, as if he could push in an extra inch from the dildo still stuck inside him. His hips reacted instinctively to the pain coursing through his body, making his body rise just enough to get a few inches out; enough to feel the length rub and push against his prostate on its exit, and remain with the tip pressed to it. His legs shook from the sensation struggling to keep his weight up; and his hips reacted again, pushing down with surprising speed, piercing himself again with the dildo, feeling it rub against that sensitive spot so harshly, it managed to push another glob of pre through the tight hold of the rubber band on his cock.

It all happened in a single second, and the process repeated itself over and over again. In a single second, Sain was once again riding that morbidly large cock, feeling it pierce his hole, spread him open and almost throb inside him, as if it was the real thing. As if that old client was in the room with him, making him jump on his lap and scream with a cock around his mouth muffling every sound that came out of him. The wolf's tail wagged out of control, without his permission, brushing against his rump as it continued to go up and down the toy.

And he kept it up for a long while. His thumb pulling on the chain, tugging a bit harder with every thrust, while his hole was overstimulated, his hole loosening by the second. The pain and the pleasure mixed and amplified one another, to the point that he could no longer tell them apart. The more he fucked himself with the dildo, or the more he pulled at his tortured nipples, Sain felt his screams turn louder, until his throat was coarse; and his breathing rushed, chest pushing forward in absolute bliss from it all.

He felt the beginning of an orgasm build up on the base of his cock, the seed in his orbs churning and heating up, begging for release. His strokes became more frantic and his voice grew louder behind the gag. A few good squeezes for good measure, his length milked for all its worth, the head squeezed and teased until he was whimpering. Never did he stop riding that cock, nor did he stop pulling on his nipples; his entire body was on fire from the sensations invading every inch of flesh he had to offer. But the pressure just kept building up, never letting up behind the rubber band that squeezed his member's insides shut. His strokes continued, his flesh and skin becoming more and more sensitive by the second, but he never managed to shoot.

He wasn't stranger to these feelings, to his member being closed up for so long, he craved his orgasm more than air. Every time, but especially during events they wanted him to last longer, like parties or orgies, his clients would make him hold back. That's what he remembered with the most clarity, and with his body ached for with the most anxiety: The orgies. The countless men surrounding him, cocks in hand, stroking and squeezing to shower him in their seed, to fill his hole on their turns, if they even bothered to take turns, and to coat his face and make him gargle in the thick cum. He missed those, and right now, when he felt their ghosts haunting him in his memories, making him sink himself further into depravity, he felt just like he used to those times. He craved the release as much as he craved for them to finish all over him, to please them and make sure they left the room happy.

The memory alone was enough, and he knew it. He angled his cock upwards, his body tensing up, yet not slowing down one bit. His stroking continued, only getting faster as his prostate was rammed back again and again, as the clamps threatened to come off from how hard he pulled on them. He could feel the pressure on his base getting to levels he didn't think possible, bits of his own seed starting to push through what little space was left for it. His sensitivity was through the roof, and he could feel the fluid going up, painfully slow. The anticipation only made his strokes get harder, pushing the milk faster up, moans muffled and teeth biting harder on the ballgag.

Finally, after what felt like hours of agony, and a few good thrusts on his own hand, Sain felt the first glorious shot of hot, thick cum push out of his member. A single long rope landing cleanly on his chest, feeling it travel every inch up his length. His screams filled the room again, so loud he might as well not be wearing any sort of gag at all. And he continued, getting a second and third rope of seed on his massive tits, matting his fur and painting him white. His teeth literally sank on the rubber ball, tearing through the material from the force of his orgasm.

But beyond those three ropes, nothing else came out. A couple strands of seed lazily pushed out of his tip, falling on his hand and coating his member white again. But his orgasm was threatening to die out on him, with the pressure still hitting the base. He remembered this sensation as well, the agony, the long waits to be emptied, the constant pressure that always refused to let up. No client ever gave him an early release; they all milked him for as long as they wanted, as long as they could. It was painful and exciting. But it was something they had to do, not something he could do himself.

His hand moved on its own, abandoning the chain tugging his nipples. Instead it went for his cock, quickly reaching the rubber band around his base and struggling to push it out of his erect member, squeezing his full, heft sac through it and tossing it away the second his manhood was set free. His excitement hadn't died out yet, and the pressure remained. Both hands moved on their own, lubing his member with the few strands of cum that landed on it, painting white and sticky. The smell of his own musk seemed to explode the moment he pulled the band out, mixing with that damp scent from his seed; he couldn't hold back from that, and all it took were a few more strokes.

Again with the ropes, but this time they were far from three. Massive shots of cum burst out of Sain with so much force, they landed on his chest and face, all while he continued to scream in the ball with abandon. His pleasure was beyond words; his body burned all over, his back arched from the intensity of his sudden orgasm, and his toes curled from the shiver that crawled up his back and far beyond, as if it could go on forever. The pain on his nipples disappeared, and all he knew was the pleasure of having them squeezed by the clamps. His prostate practically sucked the dildo as he kept riding it up and down, wanting to push against that sensitive spot more, to extend his orgasm until he fainted.

He wasn't sure when it was over. It was almost as if he blacked out for a second, and by the time he woke back up, he was lying back on the floor, coated in cum and with his cock in both hands. The dildo had jumped out of his hole, and he could see it between his legs, almost as tired as he was. He reached up only to pull the ball back, and a sigh was the first thing to leave his now freed mouth, as the same hand caressed his aching jaw.

"Wow..." he said absentmindedly. It was almost unbelievable how he managed to bring himself so much pleasure, all on his own. Only to correct himself and remember the several men, still in his memories, that had helped him reach this magnificent climax. "Thank you, sirs," he sheepishly said, and chuckled at his own behavior.

When he finally gathered the strength to sit up, he noticed the generous white coating on his chest, sticking to his fur and the skin underneath. His chest rose with heavy breaths, a remainder of his orgasm, as well as a reminder of his tiredness. He barely managed to stand up, legs shaking, and leaned on the sink for support while looking up at his reflection on the mirror. The light blue fur covered in strands of drying white cum; it was a completely different sight from the front, with his face added to the mix. He truly was a slut, like all those men had called him all those years back. And hearing their voices in his head calling him that made him shiver in guilty delight.

Thank god he had a shower right next to him.