This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
All work is fiction intended for fantasy only, regardless of content, and consent must always be acquired when engaging in any sex act with another adult.
Please note that all characters are clearly over eighteen and written as such in all stories.
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Dalarius exhaled heavily, heart hammering, though he was quite happy where he was, with his thighs spread around his boyfriend, Oliver's hips -- the Poitou donkey that he had started going out with some time back. The stallion nickered, upper lip wobbling softly, arching his back as he ground his rump down against the donkey's so far soft sheath, already imagining the thick, meaty length pressing up against his prostate in just the way that made him grunt and snort for more.
Damn, Oliver always did get him randy in a way that no one else could, despite how his experiences at the equine (and beyond) house parties had gone since his very first one. That had been a wild night indeed and one could have most certainly said that it had whetted his appetite for more. It was not that he was desperate for sex, not by any means, but that the door to true, safe experimentation had been opened and Dal, well, was rather loathe to shut it again. Whether he was with mares, stallions or others entirely, he didn't care, finding new positions, new places, not minding whether he was filmed or not.
Sometimes, at the equine horse parties, he didn't even join in the fun. Those that weren't having sex could drink as much as they liked, though they always regulated that amongst themselves, making sure that no one that was inebriated was forced into anything against their consent. It did turn the parties into a different form of intoxication, however, where one could be drunk on the fervour and atmosphere of sex rather than alcohol. Even in hindsight, the jury was still out on whether that was a good thing or a bad thing.
At that party, however, Dal had not been able to resist stealing Oliver away for some private fun in a room that, surprisingly, was empty on the second floor. It was someone's bedroom, surely, but he didn't know who it belonged to and neither did he much care when they had opened up their shared student house to fun like that. It was certainly expected at the house parties!
"Unff... You're going to get me so hard so quick, Dal..."
Oliver grinned, the donkey's tail twitching, though he didn't let out a bray, as much as it rose within his chest. A fairly hairy breed of donkey, the Poitou shook his forelock from his face where it had grown forward, his hair -- well, it was pretty much fur in the winter months -- especially thick and fluffy. It was a problem, at some times, when he needed to cool down and his natural coat made that more difficult than he would have liked it to be.
Yet it was worth it, for him, when he got to engage in a little kink play with Dalarius, the equine snorting as he snuffled up around the base of his neck, kissing and lipping and nipping, everything soft and playful. He knew that the stallion was taking in his scent, pupils dilating, and he showed off a little more as his sheath tingled with need, arousal, yet again, clawing its way through him. After all, at those kinds of house parties, it was not something to be set aside for long or so easily either.
"Mmmph..."
Dal nuzzled into the donkey's chest, revelling in the sharp tang of sweat, the masculine aroma of him flooding him and the room. He didn't have to draw it all in, but Dal could not stop himself at all from sucking in greedy breath after breath, his nostrils flaring and puckering. Yet if he stayed there, enjoying Oliver's unique aroma for too long, he would be hard and wanton far too quickly for his liking -- and they were up there more so that they could take it slowly, without anyone else to disturb them.
At least, until they were ready to be disturbed, that was...
Dal slid down, taking his time, kissing Oliver's stomach in surprising tenderness. Sometimes it still caught him off guard when he did things like that with his boyfriend, who was surprisingly sexually experienced, despite being on the quieter, nerdier side. It took a while to get Oliver to open up and to come out of his shell, but perhaps it was those very house parties that had given him both that experience that gave him a quiet air of confidence in sex and allowed him to find out a little more about who he was, even when things changed so quickly at university.
His sheath, however, was a big lure for Dal, rubbing it gently between his fingers, the smooth skin of it enticing, the round of flesh around the entrance thicker than he could have expected it to be. After being with so many stallions at the parties, Dal had learned that every equine was unique in that way, but Oliver would forever hold a very special place in his heart for the musk of his sheath.