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.
*****
Our Little Secret
The old barn creaked in the early afternoon sunshine, warm wood expanding and groaning like a creature rising from winter slumber. The red paint was cracked and peeling, though two buckets - woefully inadequate yet a promising gesture - with streaks of crimson rested solemnly beside the double doors, telling a tale of spring cleaning as was apt for the time of year. A short walk away from the dilapidated barn was the farmhouse, which was as picturesque as a country cottage could be, complete with a neat, white fence and well tended garden. Of the four inhabitants of the house at least one had the green finger touch, and she made sure that not a soul disturbed her blooming flowers or vegetables in the back allotment. The barn, however, was beyond the rein of that particular commanding officer. If she had known a fraction of the happenings of that barn, on the other paw, her intrigue may have been perked to dangerous heights. A breeze rustled dead leaves across the stony path and, within the barn, a dragoness giggled.
Housing only two permanent occupants, the barn was vastly spacious, the two mares stabled beside one another by the double doors for companionship and proximity to the open air. Snorting and stamping, they were more than aware of proceedings as a low chorus of pants and moans steadily rose in pitch and timbre. One mare, a palomino, craned her head inquisitively over the half-door, neck arched beautifully as she stretched into the aisle. A pair of slim, dark-blue jeans lay crumpled on a square of straw, which was neatly wrapped in orange twine, tossed aside in the throes of passion.
The dragoness in question sprawled on top of a tan horse rug, cushioned by a deep bed of straw. Her legs spread obscenely wide, wrapped around the head of a cougar who had his tongue buried in her dripping pussy. The rough appendage stroked and rubbed as he purred, sending tremors of pleasure into her nether regions, and the red dragoness twisted lustfully, eyes lidded. When she arched and shrieked through ecstasy, wings extending on either side of her body, the cougar leapt to his hind paws, licking her juices from his muzzle with a long, pink tongue. He grinned widely, showing a flash of sharp, feral teeth, and dove on top of the dragoness, paws caressing her black stripes with the finesse of a long-time lover, four tentacles undulating upon his back. Without any sense of hesitation, he lined up his throbbing cock with her scaled pussy and buried himself inside with a feline yowl.
The female beneath him bucked wildly through the throes of orgasm, each subsequent thrust forcing the breath from her lungs as the cougar pounded her like a male too long denied. Grunting, he crushed his lips passionately to hers and shared his partner's moans, driving both to greater heights. His uncut cock drove deep into her cunny while his flexible tentacles curled around to stroke and tease the dragoness' four, full breasts, drawing her nipples into taut peaks. Telling a tale of much teasing and foreplay, the cougar's thrusts quickened, the slap of hips striking scales shockingly audible in the quiet barn with only the feral creatures to bear witness. His back hunched as he fought to hold back the pleasure for a few seconds longer, but he could not deny the lusts of his earthly form. He flew over the edge with a shudder that ran through his whole body, growling into his partner's mouth as he ground deeper, wanting more even as it was willingly given. Breaking the kiss, the cougar's tongue lolled from his muzzle and he moaned loudly, paws squeezing the dragoness closer as each thrust shot a fresh spurt of virile seed into her snatch. The dragoness rocked her muzzle back, eyes blissfully closed: he had already fucked her through her second climax of that session.
Collapsing over his partner, the demon cougar gasped for breath and snaked one tentacle around to caress the dragon's cheek, lips breathily parted in the afterglow. Watching unobserved, a crow in the rafters tilted his head and cawed once, taking flight in a clatter of ungainly wings as he left a loose feather to drift down on to the panting, squirming couple. The dragoness half opened a single eye, watched the crow's progress and slumped back into the straw, raising a pair of shaky paws to stroke down the cougar's strong back. He purred under her ministrations, propping himself up on one arm so that he could bathe her narrow snout with his tongue.
Breathing as one, the couple was reluctant to break the silence, meeting each other's eyes and then sliding their gaze away in the next instant like a pair of shy schoolchildren. Eventually, the cougar took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of sex, straw and the dragoness' tantalising perfume, and stroked her shoulder with just the tips of his fingers. His lips brushed over her neck and she groaned lightly, tilting her muzzle away.
"We can't stay in here for much longer, Hel," Ropes murmured to the dragoness, breath tickling her ear.
"Why not?"
Though she was long an adult, Helena did her best impression of a hatchling that had been told she could not have her favourite treat, widening her eyes appealingly.
"You know why." He nudged her side. "Fyr will be home soon and she'll expect to see you cleaned up, perhaps getting some housework done."
"That's just a ploy to get me to clean the kitchen and you know it."
Ropes laughed throatily.
"Maybe so," he conceded, ever the good-natured fur. "But Fyr did ask you to do it. And the kitchen is an absolute tip."
"That's not fair." Helena sat up, pushing Ropes back somewhat, though he still rested over her, pale eyes unblinking. "What are you going to do?"
"Continue fixing up the barn of course." He answered so smoothly that it was as if he had rehearsed the answer. "That's what I was doing in here before my daughter so deviously interrupted me. It was most rude."
"Hardly heard you complaining," Helena smirked.
"Come on." Ropes slipped on to his hind paws and offered the dragoness a paw that she gladly took, allowing him to pull her upright. "There'll be more where that came from next time Fyrdrgon goes away."
He looked the dragoness over hungrily, wishing as much as she that his wife was expected back later from shopping that day. It would have made for the perfect evening to spend it ravishing his daughter, muscles sore from the day of work and lusts repeatedly sated. Helena grumbled under her breath as she gathered up her clothes and the cougar could not help but follow the hypnotising sway of her tail, curling to the side as if she was deliberately showing off her curvaceous rump. The cougar shook his head: she was such a distraction. Yet an exceptionally good distraction.
As if sensing his momentary weakness, Helena turned slowly, arms overflowing with every article of clothing that Ropes had torn off what seemed too short a time ago. The dragoness posed seductively, the curve of her body too sensual to be an accident as she raked her eyes over his form with the hunger of a true predator. She had the appetite of her father, that much could be said.
