Asslicker
Fuck it, why not. Here's a typical furry smut story. BONUS: scat, vomit, dirtiness, diapers, intimacy, and no misery to go along with them. Share and enjoy and don't tell anyone you saw me post this. I have a reputation to maintain.
By the way, I don't feel like proofreading this, I usually don't. So if I change a paragraph, or the entire story completely while I'm writing it and then afterwards it doesn't make a lick of sense and contradicts itself? Just let me know. That's embarrassing stuff.
Lacey sat in the corner, by himself, nursing a drink and ignoring the best party he'd ever been to.
This house, on this quiet suburban street in this unassuming neighborhood, was home to one of his better friends friends, and so despite himself he had agreed to attend. He had not looked forward to the event, and was not surprised or disappointed when, after an hour of being there, he consciously acknowledged that there was nothing here for him. The house was full of cute, gay anthros, mammals and reptiles and birds of all sizes and colors, all wearing skimpy un-masculine clothes and drinking fruity un-masculine drinks and bobbing their heads to very un-masculine music and giving each other very, very un-masculine looks. All well and good and, in 1995, probably very exciting. But nothing he wasn't used to.
The short raccoon took a sip of his Mike's idly. A younger version of himself, at this moment, would probably be looking forward to cleaning sugary bitch-beer out of his fur after sloppily shotgunning his third or fourth tall hard lemonade. As it was he wasn't sure why he was drinking at all, since he was going to have to drive home and getting drunk here wasn't exactly an exciting prospect anyway. It was the ceremony, he supposed, because drinking was what you did at parties and also what you did when sick of the world.
That younger version of himself hadn't had the experiences he'd had. He was sexed out, not in terms of his hormones but in terms of experiences. After long enough the young, lusty eyes and devilish voices blur together. His dick worked well enough, he jerked off a dozen times a day, but he hardly ever thought about having sex with a real person. The fantasies tended to be more unique and exciting than the real thing. The real thing felt good enough but it had always been his belief that every unique experience is worth having as long as you're alive afterwards, and so conversely it seemed that every identical experience was probably a waste of time.
Lacey took another sip. After a moment of contemplation, he tipped the can up and chugged the rest, then belched loudly. Nobody noticed, too busy with their little stripteases and naughty encounters and energetic music. The alcohol barely burned under all the artificial flavoring, but in a few minutes he'd be decently buzzed. Maybe he'd feel better then. Right now he needed to find a toilet. He stood up, dropping the empty can on the table nearby, and headed for the hallway. The first door was locked, the second went to a bedroom. The door at the end of the hallway was the bathroom. He stepped in and closed the door.
Turning around, Lacey yelped in surprise. Slumped against the wall behind the door was a slim fox dressed in surprisingly normal clothes, a baggy white T-shirt and cargo pants. His head was tilted back and his eyes closed, and when Lacey yelped one eye cracked open to look at him, then closed again. Lacey hesitated for a second, waiting for the fox to leave. It became apparent that he wasn't.
He wasn't sure what to do. He cleared his throat. "I'm trying to use the bathroom, man," he muttered awkwardly. There was no response. He said again, louder, "Hey, do you mind?"
The foxes eye opened again, and then he spoke.
"No, I don't."
The eye closed again. Lacey stood there, confused and irritated. "Dude, I'm taking a shit. I think you want to get out of here."
The foxes ears perked, and he opened his eyes fully and straightened up. "No, I don't think I do." He said it with that devilish voice, and he stared back at Lacey with another pair of those young, lusty eyes. The same old routine, but what was it doing in the bathroom? Lacey's insistent bowels started to protest the wait, his irritation had faded a little to confusion by now, and the alcohol fog was just beginning to slide over him. He didn't feel like pushing the issue.
He shook his head at the strange young fox, said, "Alright, suit yourself. Might want to plug your nose," and unbuckled his belt. He took a second to pull his tail up out of the way, then sat down at the toilet and tried to relax. The fox kept staring at him with unwavering eyes, for some reason fascinated. He tried to put him out of his mind, closed his eyes and bore down, trying to fight his instincts, his bowels reluctant to move with someone watching him, and after a few minutes he felt the pressure against his tailhole. He relaxed for a moment, took a deep breath and started to bear down again, finally feeling the mass of shit in his rectum slide through his anus and plop into the toilet. He kept pushing, but a sudden noise and feeling of contact made his eyes snap open, and he gasped and clenched his anus when he saw the slim fox was kneeling right in front of him. "What the fuck are you doing?" he gasped.
The fox was grinning up at him, that seductive, naughty grin he'd seen a hundred times before but it was a surreal and incomprehensible image in this context. One orange and white paw was gripping Lacey's gray-furred sheath, rubbing his cock with slim, delicate fingers through the layer of thin skin. He froze completely. Not a single muscle moved, not one synapse fired it seemed as his mind took a complete nosedive. What the fuck was this guy up to?
Seconds ticked by, and eventually, for lack of any better ideas, Lacey blurted out a dumb, awkward, "What are you doing." The foxes grin widened, became even more devilish.
"I'm gonna go down on you," he said, without batting an eye.
Lacey stared dumbly. "But, man, I'm taking a shit, don't you care?"
The foxes expression didn't change, he just said, "Nope."
Lacey started to respond, but caught himself. His mind was moving slowly, but he still realized that he wasn't angry, or upset, just confused. And he was also a tiny bit drunk, and bored, and unsatisfied, and frustrated, and the fingers slowly rubbing his cock inside his sheath felt unusually good, better than any had in a long time, and when he looked down at his sheath it was plump and full and a slim pink cocktip was protruding from the end, and he realized, withou much ceremony, that he didn't really care that this was happening. "Uh, so, do... you want me to wait until..." he asked, knowing what was probably expected but unsure how to phrase it.
"No. Go ahead," was half the response he got, and the other half was the foxes head dipping down and the incredible heat of another warmbloods muzzle sliding over his length, pushing his sheath back until the vulpines nose pressed against his crotch. Lacey bit back a yelp, long since used to illicit blowjobs in public places. He couldn't deny however that this, too, already felt better than expected. His heart, which seemed to have stopped a minute ago, was pounding now with the excitement of what he was now inextricably involved in. That was also a long-forgotten sensation.
The fox stayed where he was, suckling very gently on Lacey's shaft, not bobbing up and down but just very slowly working his tongue around the stiff flesh. It was obvious he was waiting for the coon to move forward, so he once again closed his eyes and tried to relax. This time it was much harder. His tailhole was clenched as hard as it could be, and every time that foxes tongue swept across the underside of his cock it made the muscles tighten up even more, but he concentrated and held his breath and after a minute, sure enough, his will overcame his reflexes and he felt the pressure against his rear opening once again.
Slowly, gradually the pressure increased, until finally his tailhole started to spread open and he could feel the rest of the feces he'd pinched off start to press its way out again. His mind was reeling, but he ignored it and kept bearing down until he felt his tailhole open completely and the firm mess inside slide out into the world. He knew what was coming, so when the fox started to gradually slide up off of his cock he stayed in control and fought the reflexes. Miraculously he didn't clench up, didn't pinch off his shit, and he couldn't help but think to himself, "My god, I am actually getting a blowjob while taking a dump." And, even more stunningly, that made him aroused like never before.
The fox started to bob his head, slowly at first but quickly gaining speed, and Lacey managed to continue his bowel movement, coonshit sliding from his spread tailhole in a long, soft snake, the constant motion through his anus feeling like sex five times over coupled with the incredible feeling of that vulpine muzzle sucking, licking, giving him the best, nastiest blowjob he'd ever had. He panted in deep, short breaths and fought his instincts that made his hips want so badly to buck up into that hot, wet mouth, instead just gripping the toilet seat tightly and letting the fox suck him off. His cock was shooting jet after jet of precum into the foxes mouth which he could feel being swallowed as the vulpine pleasured him, then as the enormous pleasure grew the smell of his own shit drifted up into his nose. Instead of his hardon wilting like he expected it somehow felt like he got even harder as his arousal peaked in time with a wave of nausea, and he gagged at the strange sensation of sickness and pleasure combined.
His bowels were rapidly approaching empty, so it was fortunate that Lacey was already on the edge. The urge to hump was irresistable, and his conscious mind was hardly involved at this point, so as the last of his waste slid out of him he thrust up into the vulpine muzzle, gasping in unexpected ecstacy as he shot mouthful after mouthful of cum, panting and then gagging in the fetid air as his body twitched and his balls emptied themselves into the foxes throat.
Lacey slumped back onto the toilet, exhausted and thoroughly sick to his stomach. He tried to catch his breath, fighting back the urge to vomit with that acidic taste in the back of his throat. He reached back, fumbling for the flusher handle and pulled it down, letting the toilet wash away his mess, then sat there, slumped on the shitter, eyes closed, waiting until the smell dissipated and he could hold back the urge to puke. Once it passed he opened his eyes and looked down at the fox, who was licking his lips with that devilish grin again. He thought about what to say. What do you say to a total stranger who just did *that* to you, with the smell of your shit still hanging in the air and him not apparently the least bit upset about it?
After a minute, he decided on the simple approach. "What the hell did you do that for?" he asked.
The fox had the look of someone who'd been asked this before. "Because I enjoy it, why else?"
"Ask a stupid question," Lacey thought to himself, then said out loud, "But I feel dirtier than I ever have in my life, and all I did was let you do... that. That was disgusting."
The fox finished licking his lips. "Yep. Me too. And you can't tell me you didn't enjoy it."
He had him there. Lacey opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out, so he closed it. He shifted his position and felt something in his asscrack, and realized that the last lump of shit hadn't fallen into the bowl before he came, so it was now mashed into his assfur. He reached for the toilet paper. Nothing. Nervously, he reached behind to check the tank lid for a spare roll or wet wipes. Nothing. He looked back at the fox. "There's, uh, there's no paper, man. Do me a favor...?"
The fox didn't move, but Lacey saw, or perhaps imagined that something about him suddenly looked a touch more devious. "Yeah, I know. I got rid of it all," he said simply.
Lacey gulped. There was no question what that meant. He wasn't a puritan, he knew what some people were into. And, right this second, he didn't give a damn if it wasn't something he was into or not. This guy deserved some indulging for the incredible orgasm he just caused. He thought for a second, then grabbed his tail and pulled it around the front of the pot as he slumped down further, exposing his messy ass and filthy pucker. He didn't even look down, too afraid to watch this happen, he just closed his eyes and waited, and not a second later he felt a presence at his rear, then a wet warmth pressing against his asscheek and sliding upwards. The fox was actually licking his shitty ass clean.
The coon gritted his teeth, nervous and disgusted but feeling the muted sensation of being in an incredibly arousing situation right after an orgasm. He knew that he was still turned on by this, so he simply sat there while the foxes tongue bathed his ass, working over the soft muck caked onto his fur, slowly licking it up until the fur was clean. He worked up and down until one cheek was clean, then the sensation disappeared and moved to the other cheek, slowly, lovingly licking up every trace of his mess. Once both cheeks were clean the fox paused, then suddenly Lacey felt the foxes snout pressed up under his tail as he started to clean his tailhole directly, sucking at the dirty pucker, licking it over and over, then pressing against it insistently until his tongue slid through the raccoons recently used hole. Lacey felt the warm, wet muscle twisting around inside of him, cleaning the inside of his anus while the muck was sucked from the outside. The fox continued to rim him intensely for a solid minute, leaving no spot on the coons shithole untouched, then finally pulled back.
As soon as the fox finished, Lacey opened his eyes and sat up, looking down at the creature that had just cleaned his ass. The foxes clean orange facial fur was smeared with streaks of brown all up and down his snout, his lips coated in it, and he was licking his face with the biggest, most satisfied smile imaginable, a true shit-eating grin. Lacey hadn't been sure what the hell he was going to do after that indescribable experience, but suddenly there was no question. He slid off the toilet onto his knees, leaned forward towards the fox and went in to kiss him. The foxes cool, consistent expression suddenly turned to surprised concern as the coons arms slid around him, but there was no time to argue as their lips suddenly met and neither one resisted.
They kissed, deeply and passionately and Lacey slid his tongue into the foxes mouth and at that moment the smell of his own fecal stink suddenly blew through his muzzle and out his nose and the wave of nausea hit again, magnified ten times, and it didn't matter. Their tongues met, soft surfaces slid over each other, and a flavor he'd never tasted before filled his oral senses, bitter and foul and incredibly disgusting, and that didn't matter either. The smell was mixed with the sweaty, dirty smell of the foxes unsurprisingly unclean body, and the taste was mixed with his sweet and bland saliva from his unsurprisingly unclean mouth, and Lacey was incredibly disgusted by it all and he loved it, and he loved this young fox, for reasons he absolutely did not understand and did not care to.
They kissed, and their tongues entwined, and they slid their arms around each other and held each other tightly. And, after a minute or two, they separated and looked into each others eyes, and Lacey realized that he was in a world he had never stepped foot in before and had no desire to leave. So he asked, "Will you come home with me?"
There was a beat, and an uncertain expression, and a moment of decision in a strange situation that should have lead to an awkward, suspicious parting of ways, and then the fox said, "Yeah." And that was all, and without cleaning the raccoon shit from the foxes face they left.
The foxes name was Travis, he said. And Travis did this a lot, yes, whenever anybody would participate, because he was a disgusting creature and enjoyed it. He was dirty and didn't wash himself as a child and realized that he was comfortable that way and that it turned him on once he hit his teens. He didn't like to be really nasty, but his fur and clothes weren't washed unless they got something more than everyday dirt on them. And he enjoyed being a toilet. Not some sort of S&M fixture, the center of attention. Just a slightly lesser creature who fed from others bowels or cleaned their assholes or pleasured them on the toilet, not as punishment or torture but because he was just classless and carnal.
And they talked at length about this as they drove across town to Lacey's tiny house outside the city proper, and so there was plenty of time for Travis to tell him of encounter after encounter, being fed, being used. His friends were used to his filthy habits and lack of ego so during totally casual events, when they were just hanging out and getting stoned and didn't feel like getting off the couch to piss they'd just drain their bladders in his mouth or his loose asshole and go back to Halo. They fucked him, but it was more masturbation than sex. And every word turned Lacey on more and more, made him more envious, and by the time they reached his house the air in the car stank of his precum and pheremones as much as it did of his shit smeared on Travis' face.
"...so since he didn't need to shit much, but everybody else had already filled me up, I just let him pack his crap into my sheath and taped the end shut. Walked around all day like that."
Travis was finishing one of his stories as they pulled up to Lacey's house. As the car slowed and turned into the driveway, Travis grew quiet. Lacey killed the engine and started to unbuckle his seatbelt, but Travis put his hand on his arm to stop him. He looked back at the fox curiously.
Travis waited a moment, presumably composing his thoughts, took a deep breath, then said, "You should know something, and I've been working on this speech in case this happened for a long time so bear with me. In the last three years I've gone from being a horny teenager experimenting with sex to a filthy animal who encourages everyone to abuse him. And in that time every person I was intimate with except for somebody I was in a relationship with got their pleasure and we had fun and that was it. And I felt like I really was inferior to everyone I met, for one reason or another, even the ones I loved, and that's why we broke up."
He paused again, swallowed nervously, glanced up at Lacey, then looked back down at his lap and kept talking, "But I got you interested in this and then you actually took an interest in me beyond just taking my number to mess around in the future. And that's a first, especially for a total stranger, and so that means I'm really excited. But we have no idea who we are beyond people who like sex, we might not even be able to get along. So I'm not in love with you, or anything, because that's insane. I've been in love and it doesn't work like that. But I do appreciate you seeing me as a person after just that little contact. As much as I enjoy burying who I am, it feels good when someone looks for me anyway." He finished, and then looked up at Lacey for his reaction.
Lacey was already smiling at him, and then he reached over and stroked Travis' cheek. "You're absolutely right. We aren't in love, but we still had an amazing experience together and no matter what else we don't like about each other it doesn't make that any less valuable. And," he said with an embarrassed grin, "you put that really well despite being on the spot. And I like that about a person anyway, and that's a good sign. Maybe we'll come to like each other. But right now, why don't we just finish this experience?" With that he opened the car door and stepped out, and Travis followed him into the house.
Lacey took the slim fox by the hand and lead him through the darkened hallways into his simple, sparse bedroom, turned on a light that faintly illuminated the room, and pulled Travis around and pushed him back onto the bed. They both quickly pulled off their shirts, exposing Travis' uncleaned fur, off-white with brownish spots. His bellyfur was matted with obvious cum spots and stained yellow, presumably from the fox pissing on himself. Lacey leaned over Travis and pressed his nose to his chest, inhaling his scent. It wasn't directly foul, just a mixture of faint smells: dried cum, ammonia from urine, sweat, dead skin cells, street dirt. Nothing to make him gag, just definitely unclean. From there he looked up, and their muzzles met, and they started to kiss again. They shared their dirtied muzzles, and their hands went to each others pants and started to unfasten buckles and buttons.
As Lacey pulled down Travis' jeans he felt something strange underneath, and broke the kiss to look down, only to see an adult diaper. He looked back up at the fox quizzically and saw another wide smile. This, too, was a reaction he was used to. Or perhaps not, Lacey thought, and he reached down and pressed his hand against the crotch of the diaper, feeling for Travis' cock. It was definitely there, and very, very hard. He could feel the shaft, and the thick, fully formed knot, but as he moved his hand further down to caress the foxes balls he felt something surrounding them. He grinned himself as he realized that Travis had been walking around the entire night with a load of shit coating his ass and balls. Diapers were also something he'd never been into, but he figured now was as good a time as any to start. He slid his hand further back as he hooked Travis' jeans with his foot and pulled them the rest of the way off, then cupped his rear and pressed into the material, massaging the vulpine shit further into hi ass and up onto his genitals.
Travis moaned as his cock and balls were gripped and rubbed, and then again in surprised satisfaction as Lacey started to play with his mess. He slid his hands under his ass and pulled up the tabs of the diaper, then lay back and looked up at Lacey. The coon didn't miss the hint, and swallowing his nervousness and taking a deep breath and holding it he gripped the diaper and pulled it open. The foxes entire crotch, thighs and ass were absolutely coated in brown muck. Holding his breath did no good. The stink hit him violently, completely different from his own in indescribable but palpable ways. It smelled like dog shit and his own combined. It was foul, and once he smelled it his breath came rushing out followed by a loud, violent dry heave. He heaved again, and he felt the acid in the back of his throat, and this time it was coming for real and there was nothing he could do about it.
He tried to stand up to head for a trashcan, but Travis grabbed his head in both paws and pulled him into another kiss. He would have protested, but before he could respond he heaved again and vomit rushed up his throat, spilling into Travis' maw, filling their mouths with stomach acid, sickly-sweet alcohol and a tangy slurry of partially digested food which the fox gulped down greedily. Lacey couldn't believe what was happening but had little choice, with those hands holding his head tightly in place as he puked into Travis' mouth again, emptying the last of his stomach contents.
They didn't separate, they just kept making out as Travis swallowed Lacey's bile. The stench was getting no better, and the nausea was still coming in waves, but this was also still incredibly hot for the raccoon and he couldn't stand to go one more second without satisfaction. His cock was hanging from his sheath, hard as it had ever been, and one advantage of being a raccoon had always been that penetrating somebody with a cock as slim as his was always easy. He had the advantage here of a thick layer of wet, slimy vulpine feces to ease his entry. Without breaking the kiss he took a step forward and angled his body so that his cocktip pressed against Travis' hole. He felt his cock sink into the wet mess and Travis froze under him as he felt the pressure under his tail, but the raccoon was too eager to stop for a second and with no further delay he thrust, driving his shit-slicked cock deep into Travis' bowels.
They both gasped into each others mouths and clutched at each others shoulders, digging their fingertips deep in ecstacy felt through the layers of disgust and sickness and instinctual protest. Travis was no cleaner inside than out, and more sloppy vulpine waste surrounded Lacey's shaft as he buried it deep inside the fox and started fucking him, jerking his hips forward and back as he hammered his hard perverts cock into this disgusting, dirty, smelly creature, dragging his own scrotum through the mess of shit in Travis' spread out diaper and covering his crotch and splattering his belly in the rancid muck. They separated, finally, only so that they could breathe better as they panted and yelped, the coon gritting his teeth and continuing to gag as he fucked the fox, his orgasm coming fast.
In only a minute of intense, animalistic pounding Lacey was cumming, pumping his semen for the second time that night into the fox, this time into the other end of his defiled digestive system. Travis came a millisecond after him, shooting a stream of brown-tinged semen onto his already cum-covered bellyfur. Lacey slammed his hips into Travis' filthy ass and held himself there, teeth clenched, cock twitching as his thin seed flooded the foxes bowels and mixed with his vulpine waste. Then, when his balls were again emptied, he collapsed. They lay there, panting, Lacey's nose buried in Travis' dirty fur to overwhelm the stench of their disgusting act.
Eventually their orgasms faded. They wrapped their arms around each other, and held each other tightly, and basked in the afterglow that shouldn't have existed. This was, Lacey thought to himself, definitely a good feeling, no matter how insane it was. And as he stroked Travis' soiled cheek, he thought about the scene he was in. Laying on his own bed, sprawled over a strange young fox covered in dirt and seed and feces and wearing a diaper, covered in all of the above himself, with his cock buried to the hilt in an inch of fox shit and dirty vulpine bowels. And nothing had ever felt more natural. Maybe, he thought, this was the life for him.