FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Feyyore stripped off his clothes and kicked them away. "Good riddance," he said, playfulness in his tone. The trail was fun and battling was his passion, but the fox liked the rests between trips. He had just arrived in town and the gym was his goal, but that was for tomorrow. Tonight he was tired. His feet were sore from the walk, but more importantly, he was exceptionally horny. Heat was both his most and least favorite sensation.

He sat on the bed, looked at the television, and decided against turning it on. The sly, black fox felt down his feminine body. Feyyore was deeply, vainly proud of his twink figure. It made other men want him and made other trainers underestimate his skill in commanding a Pokemon. More than anything, it simply pleased him to look the way he did. He grinned as he touched the thick mound between his thighs. His pussy was thick and wet, the so-called fortune cookie canines and their kind possessed.

In dipped a finger, feeling along slippery walls, unleashing the smell of heady musk. Feyyore shivered. He thought about masturbating then and there. Dig his fingers in until he reached the knuckles, fingerfuck himself until he squirted and made a nasty mess for housekeeping. Nah, forget that, the fox thought. He bounced off the bed and briskly walked to the armchair. Draped over its backrest and looking like a row of sleigh bells was his belt of assorted Pokeballs.

There was really no question of who he'd pick for this job. Feyyore pulled the only Great Ball off of the belt and primed it. He tossed the ball and unleashed his Zoroark, a creature who had no nickname but was nevertheless deeply loved by his trainer.

The tall foxlike Pokemon studied his surroundings for a moment, then turned to face his master. His matte purple mane drew Feyyore's eye like it always did. He had hardly believed his luck in catching a shiny Pokemon. The Zoroark's eyes fell on Feyyore, and a wry smile upturned the corners of his mouth.

Feyyore moved near and leaned into the Pokemon's fluffy body. His Zoroark was an unusually large specimen, perhaps six feet tall, and Feyyore enjoyed this aspect of him. He smooched his Pokemon on the cheek, then the lips. The Zoroark grumbled a soft growl and stuck his tongue out half an inch. Feyyore nipped it with a grin on his face and a swish in his tail.

"Smell me?" Feyyore asked. The question might as well have been rhetorical. His deep, earthy musk easily overpowered the lavender and lilac scent of the room's linen. He guided one of his Pokemon's paws down to his loins, and as the Zoroark took hold of his spade, Feyyore crooned, "It's so swollen and wet. Needs that knot." With his emphasis, he groped the Zoroark's sheath. It was black along with the rest of his underbelly, but Feyyore knew from experience that the shaft inside was red as wine.

The Pokemon nuzzled with his trainer and smelled the air subtly. A smile tugged at his mouth. He pushed Feyyore back gently, coaxed him down to the floor - always on the floor, never the bed - and knelt between his trainer's lithe legs. Their eyes remained locked, a smoldering gaze lingering for a moment. Then the Zoroark's head dipped, the point of his snout brushed Feyyore's thick, spadelike vulva, and the sniffing began again in earnest. He sunk his nose slightly between the plump, pinkish lips and his eyes watered, then closed. The smell was potent, shockingly so for such a slim, girlish fox, and the Zoroark's inhalations seemed more like shudders.

Feyyore, tickled by the sniffing, moaned sweetly and hooked his legs around the Pokemon's head. His thighs cinched the Zoroark in snugly. "Smells pretty strong, doesn't it?" the fox asked, smiling, almost smirking. His eyes were closed. He listened to his Pokemon's stunted, gasping snuffles and enjoyed the sound immensely; Feyyore understood that he was gorgeous, but his self-image was only part of it. Knowing he made others lose their composure, be it with his figure or his musk, was the other part of the equation.

"What do you think, huh?" Feyyore asked, keeping his tone as casual as he could. "Think I need the knot?"

With more composure, the Zoroark might have put his trainer under the spell of an illusion. Put him somewhere more enticing than a cramped hotel room, give himself a form more capable of speech, something to enhance the moment. But his trainer's smell was too thick, his vulva too perfect. The reek of estrus had him stiff, and his red cock jutted proudly from its sheath - all but the knot, which stubbornly stayed in the sheath and stretched it taut. He drew his tongue through the most shallow parts of his trainer's mound and tried, but failed, to wriggle free of the headlock.

Feyyore was smiling, proud of the dominance he wielded over his Pokemon. Totally playful, of course, as Feyyore was a fair and loving trainer. His Pokemon were his friends, his pets, even his lovers. Hearing his Zoroark huff and whine like a puppy was a special kind of treat, though, a little something to be savored like hard candy. He squeezed his thighs together a little tighter, putting his Zoroark's head into something of a nutcracker situation. Then he eased off, and tellingly, his Pokemon stayed close for several moments so he could continue to smell and offer shallow licks. When the Zoroark withdrew, Feyyore knocked a foot into the Pokemon's snout teasingly. "You're so thirsty, I can smell it on you. I bet you're hard as a rock, too."

The Zoroark looked at Feyyore with an expression somewhere between glaring and pouting. He huffed as if the entire situation was beneath him, but his eyes drifted back to the fat mound of Feyyore's spade, lavender in hue to match the fox's belly fur.

"You want to screw me," Feyyore said as a statement, not a question. He giggled. "That works. I want you to screw me. Otherwise I'd have just dug knuckle-deep in myself and been done with it." He rolled over, bunched himself up, perked out his butt and hiked up his tail all inside the span of a few seconds. His bottom was round, enticing to some for sure. But his vulva waited, presented and throbbing, honey dribbling off its bottom edge. "Well, screw me. Use that knot."

The Zoroark drank in the sight of his prone trainer just for a moment. He appreciated this sight, and the offering of pussy made just for his knotted meat. Silent as a ninja, as his species tended to be, he mounted his trainer and touched the tip of his penis to those thick, pinkish lips. In another instant he pressed forward, wedging apart fat cuntlips, his silent entry drawing noisy moans from the fox.

Feyyore whined, "Yeah, so big. Feels bigger than last time." His tail swirled and swished, fanning musk around an already ripe room. His pussy accepted the Zoroark's cock all the way down to the knot, which still was hidden stubbornly by its sheath.

Silent in every aspect except his huffs, the Zoroark mated his trainer. He did not mate often, and he did not masturbate; these sessions were as appreciated as they were rare. He allowed some of his weight to lie on his trainer, and the fox cooed, whined.

The fox's vagina was perfect. Outside it was beautiful to those who knew the beauty of a canine vulva, but inside was where the magic was. Its deep, pink channel was a snug and wonderful thing to fuck. Anal sex, from the one time the Zoroark had done it on his trainer's wishes, could not compare to this pleasure. Pussy was so slippery, so hot, and it was made for this. The Zoroark's knot bumped the spread spade, pushing it, mashing it. The vulva was very malleable; it crushed without pain, giving Feyyore only pleasure. Its shape always came back, like it was made of sponge. The fox's wetness drooled around the Zoroark's cock, natural lubrication in excess to keep the sex just as pleasurable as it ought to be.

"Ooh, yeah, yeah," Feyyore repetitively murmured, the words quiet, tinted with pleasure. In spite of his prone, folded position, he smoothly pushed back, giving his Pokemon pet some resistance. Noises, wet and relatively loud in the quiet room, were squeezed from his snug cunt. His honey oozed over the Zoroark's penis, soaked his sheath, ran over his scrotum like a glaze.

The Zoroark nipped Feyyore's ears. The fox gasped and his ears folded back, but the Zoroark stayed with them, laying on more nibbles and nips. Feyyore giggled, "Quit it, qui-i-it that," but he pushed back harder, without rhythm. His muff was hot, the smell thickening as the sex went on. He reached back and swatted nowhere in particular on his Pokemon, and ended up giving him a bop on the flank.

The Zoroark smirked. He huffed into his trainer's ear. Down went one of his paws, grabbing at his knot, tugging the sheath, trying to pull it down. He bucked into the fox and his paw, but the sheath stayed put. The Zoroark grumbled and Feyyore asked, "What? What's the matter?"

No answer, not that Feyyore expected one. His Zoroark tended not to speak even as a part of his illusions. The Pokemon only leaned low again, and his thrusts quickened, his body moving with a serpentine motion to drive his hips. The knot, in spite of its covering, pushed against the fox's mound with a pressure Feyyore found quite enticing. Instead of biting his trainer's ears, the Zoroark only huffed into and around them. He nuzzled into one and snorted it, made Feyyore giggle again. That made the Pokemon smile.

"I'm getting so close, being in heat makes me so easy," Feyyore said, pouting. "You gonna cum? You close too?"

The Pokemon let his actions speak for him, and that was all Feyyore expected. The tall Pokemon laid on his trainer, pressing him into the plush carpet. Feyyore said in a murmur, "Yes, any way you wanna fuck me. Just do it." His toes curled, and in a moment his ankles crossed. "Ooh, just please knot me."

The Zoroark's tongue dangled on Feyyore's head, leaving droplets of drool. It was his hips the fox cared about, those taut and driving hips pounding that knot in against him over and over like a sledgehammer against cement. The fox huffed and whined, moaned to his Pokemon, whispered in words meant for him alone, "You're my favorite. My absolute favorite. I love you."

This made the Zoroark smirk, embarrassed. For a moment he was clumsy from the praise, but he ordered himself to keep composure. He was not some garden-variety Pokemon, he was a Zoroark, and he would demonstrate why he was the logical choice as the favorite.

From then on, the Pokemon's grinds were savage but clipped, the Zoroark only pushing his knot against the fox's thick, lavender vulva. No long strokes, only the knot pushing on the spade, the pointed tip digging at the fox's insides like a prodding tool.

"Oh yeah, oh fuck-, fuck yeah," bleated Feyyore, his cheeks hot as embers. He was on the edge, feeling that hot tickle deep inside both literally from his Pokemon's cock and figuratively as his climax washed over him. He shuddered, whining but moaning, and he nuzzled into the carpet with a low cry.

Feyyore's hot, wet mess rolled over the Zoroark's sheathed knot and the Pokemon felt the tightness of his trainer's sex. He recognized a climax from his trainer, and here one was. He had done well, he had been a good Pokemon, but now came the knotting his trainer had asked for. He pushed, giving his trainer's cunt the hardest, most eager grinds he could manage. His knot depressed the plush flesh of the fox's mound, flattening it, crushing its spongy mass. His knot at last slipping inside was like dawn coming after a frigid night. Feyyore yowled like a feral as the fat, red mass wedged him open. The Zoroark shivered, his cockflesh tingling, balls pulling taut. And finally, as his knot entered Feyyore, the sheath was pushed back like stubborn foreskin to fully expose the shaft to Feyyore's vulgar pink.

"Fuck, oh fuck, fuck," Feyyore cursed, bliss and pain struggling to come through together on his expression. The Zoroark huffed into his ears, nuzzled his scalp, growled. The Pokemon came silently, but the mess was enormous, its volume immediately felt by Feyyore who never ceased to be impressed by his Zoroark's orgasms. The semen filled him, entering deep into his ready, and very fertile womb. But that was a consideration for later, not something the fox and certainly not the Pokemon concerned themselves with.

Semen struggled against the plug of the Zoroark's knot but the bulb was secure, the fox's fortune cookie-like mound throbbing and sore but satisfied. The Zoroark laid over his trainer and exhaled.

"That's why you're my favorite," Feyyore said, and he grinned. "My absolute favorite."