FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This story is copyright © 2014 K.M. Hirosaki.

_ _

As the otter stroked his webbed toes up and down my leaking dick, the only thing I could think of was making sure that I didn't get off before I had the chance to fuck him. After all, it would be a shame if my most successful attempt ever at "Meet a Cute Stranger and Get Him into Bed" ended without my getting properly laid. Like, maybe he would've liked it if I came all over his feet or something, but I didn't trust myself enough to ask, and okay, maybe I was also afraid he would say "yes" and then I'd be stuck not fucking him and I didn't want that.

(It was actually the fox's idea for the otter to use his feet for a bit, though by this point he's forgotten that little tidbit. Oh, also, the POV character here is a fox, if you were confused.)

I probably hadn't set the land speed record for meeting someone and having sex with them--probably not by a long shot, considering some of the stories I've heard from sluttier people than me--but I was positive I'd set a personal record, if nothing else. Shit, I'd known this otter for something like three hours, I think?

(Three hours and fourteen minutes, to be precise, which admittedly probably isn't necessary; it's impressive enough that the fox kept track of time as well as he had.)

One of my ears got pinned underneath my head at an awkward angle as I arched back there on the mattress; impatient as I was to pin this otter's ass to the bed, I had to admit, the guy had a way with his toes unlike anyone else I'd ever met. Not that getting my shaft stroked by a guy's toes is something I go for all that often, but hey, it was an otter, and how could I turn down slippery webbing like that?

He sat more upright, allowing me to get a better look at his face here in the shadowed bedroom. God damn was he cute; I hadn't gotten his name (Actually the fox had gotten his name, but it had been hours ago and only once, and it's not my place to impinge upon the otter's privacy.), but I knew in that moment as he leaned up that I would never forget his gorgeous eyes, his irises the color of roasted chestnuts. One set of toes curled in against the side of my shaft for a final time, and then the otter tucked his feet underneath himself, sitting cross-legged as he used his fingers to tug my sheath back the last bit of the way.

"You locked the door, right?" he asked me.

(This next part here is all a big lie; the fox actually didn't lock the door because he gets off on the prospect of being caught. Pay close attention to how he phrases himself and you can see it in his subconscious, even if he doesn't say anything overt.)

"Yeah," I replied. "I mean, I doubt anyone's gonna come up here," I added, gesturing vaguely to the rest of the house, like my paw would somehow indicate that I was referring to the loud music thumping its way up from downstairs, "but you can never be too careful, right?" I flashed him a toothy grin, making sure to get just one of my canines to slip clear of my lip, and he smiled back in a way that made my heart race and my cock pulse.

The only light on in the room was the small lamp on the end table in the far corner; it was nothing as romantic as firelight, but then again, this wasn't exactly a romantic encounter. Rather, I liked the way it painted the room in muted shadows, adding an air of mystique to the moment--just enough to see by, but making the details hazy, like my memories would be come morning.

(Considering that he's telling this story, I think it's safe to say that he winds up remembering the details decently enough. That's what you get when you try to sound too poetic for your own good, I guess: you sound kinda dumb.)

My otter had fur that was a grayish sort of brown, or maybe brownish sort of gray, like the color of muddy clay; it looked really nice in the dimmer light, and his pinkish shaft jutted up, glistening with its own excitement, silhouetted against the lighter shade of fur that covered his belly. The desire to mount my adorable rudder-butted lover welled up within me anew after already having been a pretty strong presence as it was.

I adjusted my cock a little; yeah, the otter had made sure that my sheath was clear of where my knot was going to swell, but sometimes little adjustments are just necessary. In that moment, I debated whether or not to give him a bit of sucking before getting to the main course, as it were, but I got the impression that he was just as eager as I was.

(As it turns out, the fox was actually just impatient and kind of greedy at this point, and he didn't actually get that impression at all. Don't worry, though--as it turns out, the otter wanted to jump right ahead to the fucking, too, because he didn't like to get fucked when he'd already gotten off and he was already on-edge enough as it was.)

My intention was to flip the otter over onto his belly and nudge up between his legs and mount him that way, but as I sat up onto the mattress, he started to lean back before I could position myself. The sight of him stretched out on his back beneath me, clothing having already been shed many pleasurable minutes before, made me pause just long enough for him to then spread his legs beckoningly, and it was an invitation that I found myself hard-pressed to refuse.

His toes, the slickness of my excitement having already dried upon and between them, splayed apart as I took hold of his ankles, and I proceeded to wrap his legs around my waist. We were roughly the same height, this otter and I, which is always a boon when it comes to certain positions. I felt him cross his ankles just above the base of my tail, and then I leaned forward, hovering over him, grinning down into his whiskery face and roasted chestnut eyes.

(He's got a point about the height thing, you know. Have you ever had sex with someone who was a lot taller or shorter than you? It gets really hard to find a good position that works, especially when it comes to fucking on a bed.)

"I've never, ah, done anything quite like this," the otter said, and there was a chuckle in his voice and a smile in his eyes. I'm pretty sure he meant sleeping with a near-stranger, and not getting fucked in general, because he seemed too relaxed to be even a mostly-virgin, and moreover, I found it hard to believe that a cutie like him had never gotten lucky before. If his never having done anything quite like this made him reluctant at all, he sure didn't show it, and he met my deep, passionate kiss with the same gusto that I put into it.

I didn't really do random party hook-ups all that often, either (Personally I think that depends on who's counting and how, but don't let me put words into this fox's mouth.), but the part of me that hadn't gotten laid in seven months made me want to fuck this otter since pretty much the moment I set eyes on him downstairs a few hours back. I don't wanna say that it was one of those things where our eyes met across the room and we were instantly drawn to one another, because it wasn't (It really wasn't.). What it was, though, was a case of two guys meeting at a party full of mostly gay guys, hitting it off really well, and getting all touchy-feely with their flirting while they sat on the couch amidst other folks who didn't really seem to think anything inappropriate was happening.

(Fucking in one of the upstairs bedrooms, for the record, definitely qualified as inappropriate, but again, that's part of what was getting the fox off. A few people had seen them sneak off, because for anyone watching closely enough it was obvious what was going on, but those folks were at least good enough to not cockblock a pair of strangers.)

Webbed fingers gripped my shoulders as the kiss drew on longer and longer, and in the midst of it all I took hold of the base of my shaft in order to position it just so underneath the otter's tail. He let out a soft gasp in mid-kiss, his nostrils puffing a breath of air over my face. The inside of his mouth tasted like vodka and fruit juice. A quick squeak rose up from his throat as I nudged forward, doing everything I could to go nice and slow (By the way, he didn't mention it earlier, but there was lube on his shaft from when the otter was giving him the footjob, so he wasn't just going in dry.).

I was about halfway in when the otter took his arms and his legs and used them all to help pull me in closer to his body. I had to break the kiss due to the sudden gasp that sensation of closeness elicited, and fucking hell, it made my head spin to think that he needed this as much as I did. Probably I wasn't going to last long, but given the blissful haze that had come over me (along with the weed he'd smoked earlier that he isn't mentioning), even a short time would hopefully feel like a cozy eternity with this otter who, for the time being, was pretty much my new best friend.

(I don't know if you've ever had sex with someone you've known for less than a day, but there's a certain exhilarating freeness that comes with it. Like, it's probably not for everyone, and I'm not saying you should run out there and bang a stranger, but there's something to be said for the experience is all I'm trying to say. And which I guess this fox is trying to say, too.)

With the kiss broken, the otter was free to whimper and squeak with his own arousal, and each shaky vocalization that left his mouth and hit my ears was a tiny affirmation of how right this moment was. I began to thrust harder and faster, in part because I wanted to see how loud I could get him (See, I told you he was hoping to get caught.), and in part because the sheer heat of the moment made it impossible to resist. Pushing myself up from the mattress, I leaned back, then took hold of the otter's legs again, unwrapping them from around my waist and hooking his feet up over my shoulders, staying inside him all the while.

In addition to having improved leverage from this angle, I also had a great view, the otter's oily fur seeming to scintillate in the dim bedroom light as my deep thrusts made his body rock atop the mattress just so. His eyes were open as mere slivers, his muzzle hanging open as he let out soft, repeated panting sounds punctuated by the occasional squeak or chirp that was sometimes accompanied by his head rolling back and his eyes scrunching all the way shut (I'm surprised he doesn't mention the way the otter's cock was jumping and leaking onto his belly fur, too; that seems like a hot little detail that'd be fun to include.).

My knot was starting to swell up a fair bit (Why do canids never mention the knot until they're at this point? I guess he kinda-sorta brought up earlier with the otter tugging his sheath back for him, but still, that's not quite the same thing.). This was where I was faced with the big decision of whether I should tie with the otter or not; obviously, my body wanted it more than anything, but being stuck under his tail for a while longer would drastically decrease our chances of getting away with a sneaky party-fuck. I would have asked him, but I wasn't really in the position to formulate a detailed question, and for the otter's part, he didn't seem entirely capable of processing a question, let alone answering one.

(Really, though, the otter knew he was with a fox, and since he'd gotten a decent sex education in addition to having fooled around with a handful of wolves and foxes before, he knew the knot thing was coming, and he'd have said something if it were an issue. Well, probably. Sometimes people don't exactly think straight when they're horny; I don't know if you've noticed.)

So yeah, in went the knot, and a few thrusts later, it was thick enough that it wasn't coming back out again. The otter's legs slid off of my shoulders and went back around my hips, and he actually leaned in and bit my shoulder, growling and whimpering in pleasure mixed with discomfort (Actually, it was just pleasure, for the record.). Each half-second came with another jerk of my hips; each half-second brought me a half-step closer to the climax I'd been seeking since three hours prior when I first saw this adorable specimen of otter.

(Shit, he gets poetic when he's about to get off.)

Orgasm hit like a wall of bricks, and I fell forward, needing to catch myself on my paws, planted firmly on the mattress to either side of the otter's head. I began to gasp and pant, my hips moving on autopilot as I came inside my newest lover, my body desperate for as much stimulation and friction and sensation as it could cram into the next few seconds between when I would finish shooting and collapse into a mind-numbing afterglow.

The otter took one of his own paws and grabbed his dick, jerking off furiously as I continued to work my knotted shaft inside of his rear; as my own motions got slower and weaker, his got faster and more heated, until finally his webbed fingers went still, clenching down around his shaft as a brisk yelp hit my ears. He aimed himself in such a way that his own seed streaked out across his front without actually hitting me--not like I would've minded (Yeah, I don't think anyone hearing this story would mind fox fur with semen in it, either.).

Afterglow washed over me, taking with it the tension and excitement that had guided me for the last several minutes, leaving me content and satisfied. I relaxed myself, hunkering down to lie atop the otter, my torso pressed to his (Ah, there it is.), giving him another quick kiss on the lips as I settled into place.

We were going to be tied for a while, so we shifted around, feeling each other out until we came to rest in a position of mutual comfort; it required a little bit of gymnastics, but thankfully otters are a flexible sort. He let out one of those nervous little giggles that I sometimes hear after sex, and I found it endearing, so I kissed him again.

(He isn't going to mention this, but the fox actually went on to develop this adorable crush on this otter and could barely stop thinking about him for the entire next week. And just so I'm not leaving you in suspense, don't worry: he does wind up getting the otter's phone number and they actually hook up a few more times before becoming reliable fuck buddies, which maybe isn't all that romantic but I'd still call it a happy ending.)

With an outstretched arm, the otter grabbed the comforter and tugged it over us. We'd be a little warm, I figured, but hey, if he wanted to cuddle some--since we were gonna be stuck for a bit anyway, after all--I was happy to oblige him. Also, while it wouldn't really hide what the two of us had been up to in the event that someone walked in on us, it'd at least spare them a view of the goods, and I guessed that was all right, too.