FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Perhaps the greatest joy of language is the adjective.

While a noun or a verb is usually only used in one or two fashions, adjectives are flexible, pliable bits of lexicon that people can use to create and capture different emotions. A word that might not make sense in one context can be made to do so with just one minor change, evoking thought and displaying the versatility of language.

"You're a _sexy_little sandwich, aren't you?"

Then, there was the flip side of the argument, wherein everything enjoyable had to be considered an object of desire. From larger objects like cars and houses, down to smaller details like food items, everything was being considered sexy in some way, those days.

Disturbing though it might have been, the adjective being used was no accident.

"You smell like you were pulled fresh from the clutches of a greedy mermaid," Zack complimented the cooked ingredients on his lobster roll, admiring the delicious aroma that filled the passages of his sensitive nostrils. "Not that I would have let her stop me from getting to you. You're all mine, baby."

The roll was impressively large, packed to the gills with a creamy, white sauce that covered the boiled bits of lobster within. Veggies were stacked up right, pushing the two slices of the soft, plush roll apart, allowing the interior contents to spill over, even before Zack had taken his first bite.

Everything in the life of the controlling Doberman was sexual somehow, from waking up in the morning and putting pants on, to sitting down for lunch and taking a bite out of a lobster roll.

He never started with a bite, however.

"Quit wasting that extra sauce," he demanded of the sandwich. He squeezed it tight between the rigorous digits of his palms and watched as excess cream spilled between the gaps of his fingers. Eagerly, the flat of his canine tongue slurped up the pouring juices from the back of his paws, catching them just before they had a chance to reach his wrist.

His tongue was coated with a chorus of flavor, but it was little more than an appetizer. The front, open face of the sandwich was still leaking, a slow trickle of errant white sauce pouring down and soaking into the bread, making it soft and soggy as it waited for someone to come after it.

One pass of the wide, wet muscle was all it took to slurp all the mess from the front of the sandwich, but Zack was too aggressive to stop there. Grinning and eyeing the sandwich with all the same intensity he'd offer to one of his pets, he opened his jaws wide, small trails of spittle dripping from the points of his deadly fangs as he went to take his first bite.

A cacophony of savory cream, bitter veggies and mildly sweet lobster spread across the inside of his muzzle as his lips closed around the front of the tender roll. Fangs poked against freshly baked bread with caution, as if he valued the sandwich so much that he didn't want to finish sinking his fangs through it.

He'd eventually have no choice; his stomach was already rumbling, and like a shark to a drop of fresh blood, his maw was already tainted with the flavors that he so desperately desired.

There was no one to stop him from finishing the bite. Like a forbidden kiss, his lips finally sealed closed around the chorus of different ingredients with a pearly clack of his fangs.

A complete chew was heavenly, so much that Zack felt desire rousing into his loins. The bliss of the perfectly balanced flavors moving across his tongue as he continued grinding the bits of food with his molars drew a quiet moan from the back of his throat, and his legs began quivering, shaking the chair beneath him.

"Oh...o-oh my," he whispered, looking down at the roll and seeing the mark that he'd made. "There's still so much of you left! I'm not sure I can handle all of it!"

Bulging against his throat like the head of a stiff, throbbing cock was a lump of tasty lobster roll, pressing against the tight, muscular surface of his neck until it finally made the rest of the trip down into his gullet. He shuddered with renewed delight as his free, open mouth eagerly drifted toward the sandwich once more, but he didn't go for a bite right away.

He looked at the unusual shape left by the pattern of his bite, and noticed just the slightest crevasse between the milky, mingled ingredients and the surface of the bread itself. It wasn't nearly large enough to hold certain parts of his body, but it would make a perfect sleeve for his tongue, and he could think of no better way to sample the sweetest juices from the very center.

"I don't usually do this for anyone," he explained. "You should consider yourself lucky."

No doubt a coincidence, but a happy one at that, a dribble of fresh cream spilled from that gap that was made, as if the sandwich were offering itself up to Zack like so many others had done before. His eyes followed the drop all the way down the front of the marks left by his fangs before, until it hung, dangling from the bottom edge of the bread.

The drop teased him, as if it wasn't going to fall and spill upon him. His digits were quivering as he held the sandwich completely still, his powerful eyes daring it to spill a mess onto the front of his jeans.

When it finally happened, the drop broke away so suddenly that Zack couldn't possibly avoid it. Though it was only a single bit, it still carried the volume to leave a tiny stain on his bulge, taunting him.

"Now that was a mistake, you little bitch."

Zack never knew a woman to complain about the presence of his tongue between her folds. The sandwich couldn't answer his frustrated affection, but it spread apart as easily as his former lovers when his paws clenched it on both sides, opening the folds between the bread and the topping wider. His tongue slurped the gush of juices that burst forth and he swallowed them without hesitation, displaying incredible skill in pushing the tip of his tongue into the gap.

Messy cream instantly spilled over the fur upon his chin and soaked his lips as he tongue fucked the enticing meal, knowing that drops of sauce would miss the plate that they were intended for. He didn't care about the small puddle being left on the table as he worked, knowing that the cleanup involved would just be part of the fun.

For someone who was so used to being in control, Zack felt that the sandwich might have the upper hand on him, as his tongue darted back and forth in rapid succession, casting mingled trails of saliva and cream down from the corners of his muzzle.

Perhaps, this is a little too messy after all, he thought, unsure if there were paper towels enough to clean up the aftermath.

Thankfully, the sandwich was a versatile partner.

"Pfft. You think I can't handle you? I've taken way bigger things before!" Zack claimed, a statement that he'd rarely admit to anyone. He took pride in his reputation as a dominant partner; quietly, he took just as much pride in his ability to handle having just about anything shoved down his throat.

The sandwich was no match for his literal appetite, nor his carnal one. Stretching his jaws apart, Zack easily took the first few inches of the wide, fluffy bread into welcoming confines, all while containing the mess of toppings that threatened to spill over the sides. He could have bitten down and saved himself some trouble, but there was something positively naughty about the fact that he was working the tip of the sandwich.

He had to go for the deep throat, spurred on by the constant drip of juice that spilled down over the back of his tongue.

"Mnn...mnn!" his gasps of desire were muffled by delicious lobster as the sandwich finally threatened to fall apart. The bread was past soggy and turning to chunks, leaving his paw as the only thing that was really holding the sandwich in one contained package.

Accepting that he finally had to end the pleasurable act by taking a bite, his fangs began sinking into the roll, just as his sister walked in the door of his apartment.

"...Whaaaaat the fuck, dude."

Zelda's paw was resting on her hip, and her brow was furrowed as she looked at the stain from the lobster roll that dripped over his jeans, assuming that it was something else entirely.

"It, uh..." Zack trailed off as he looked around the kitchen, trying to find something else that could possibly explain his situation. "It's not what it looks like?"

Clenching the remains of a ruined sandwich and covered in milky cream sauce, Zelda didn't know exactly what it was supposed to look like...and she wasn't about to ask.