Newsgroups: alt.sex.motss From: jld1@cus.cam.ac.uk (Dr J.L. Dawson) Subject: Story - Furry Message-ID: <1993Apr29.123052.27410@infodev.cam.ac.uk> Nntp-Posting-Host: apus.cus.cam.ac.uk Organization: U of Cambridge, England Date: Thu, 29 Apr 1993 12:30:52 GMT Lines: 201 Responses, flames, requests, offers to: JLD1@cus.cam.ac.uk =========================================================== FURRY by John Dawson Malcolm woke with a terrible start, convinced that something had touched him. All around him was blackness -- the deep impenetrable blackness of a moonless, starless night in a room with its heavy opaque curtains drawn. It was so black he could almost feel the atmosphere round him, and wondered for a moment if that could have woken him. Taking stock of his situation, he realised that he was lying on his back, having thrown off all the covers, and smiled to himself as he noticed that, as usual when he awoke, he had an enormous erection. Very proud of that erection, was Malcolm. Starting from a perfectly ordinary (though very handsome) cock in its soft state, his lovers would begin to stir the beast into life -- which happened very quickly -- and after half a minute or so of gentle stimulation would find themselves with a veritable hosepipe on (or in) their hands, surmounted by a length of foreskin even when fully hard. There's nothing better than a middle-of-the-night wank to send you to sleep again, he decided, and went to move his right hand into a suitable position for doing that very thing. Horror! Thin, strong, furry fingers gripped his right wrist, pinning it to the bed. Automatically, he tried to lift his left arm over to release the vice-like grip, but a second furry hand was already there, holding his left wrist. Malcolm whimpered and thrashed his body about to shake off his captor, kicking out at the end and the sides of the bed to reach the body of this creature. His feet and knees met no resistance, and he realised that its body must be behind his head. Summoning up some long-forgotten gymnastic skill, he suddenly raised both legs until his feet were behind his head, but still no solid flesh met his powerful kicks. Worse was to come. Two more sets of furry fingers clamped themselves round his ankles, holding him in this extremely uncomfortable doubled-up position. It occurred to him then that there must be more than one of these creatures, and sleep had cleared sufficiently from his mind for him to wonder what these monsters were, and why they had attacked him like this. His cock (now much less erect) and balls were hanging down over his face, though he couldn't see them, and he relaxed slightly, trying to find enough space in his constricted chest to breathe. His body still held firmly in four places, more furry hands began to stroke the backs of his legs and buttocks, his ears, and both nipples -- all at the same time! There must be a whole group of these things, he guessed, and wondered how to escape. It was no use shouting -- his bedroom was on a separate floor from the others, and the door at the top of the stairs was closed. Futilely, he struggled some more, but was quite unable to break free from them. The hands on his buns nuzzled between his legs, brushing the underside of his ball-sack with soft fur. Erotic fires shot through his tortured body, reviving the forgotten erection completely, and he moaned with sudden lust. Slowly, the hands holding his ankles began to move apart, spreading his legs, and he began to panic that if they continued, some part of him would split. But they lifted his legs and lowered them to the bed in their former position, still clamped firmly, but now quite comfortable. His erection resumed its skyward pointing. Fur enveloped his balls, stroked all over his chest, particularly his nipples, and rubbed his mouth, nose, ears, and forehead. The strongly erotic sensations aroused by this were almost more than Malcom could bear -- he longed to grip his tool firmly and finish the job he had tried to start some time before, but had no hand free. As if in response to his unspoken thoughts, a ring of fur, so soft that it could not contain any fingers, completely encircled the tip of his cock and travelled right down to the base, meshing with his ball hairs. Up and down the furry ring travelled, applying agonizingly gentle pressure to his screamingly sensitive cock. His hips began to thrust upwards from the bed, trying to force the encircling fur to stimulate him more, but the ring suddenly lowered itself to his cock-base and held him down firmly. At the same time, several more furry rings slid over the end of his throbbing meat, and began to move up and down in a random sort of rhythm, sometimes in the same direction, sometimes in opposite directions. Two more tight furry rings slipped on to each of his balls and massaged them gently, and firm furry hands stroked up and down the insides of his thighs. Malcolm sank into a red haze of lust, quite forgetting his fear at this unusual situation, and gave himself up to the wonderful stimulus. All at once, the furry rings round his cock, including the one at the base, all began to move upwards with a stronger stroking action. As one reached the tip and vanished, another began at the base, the combined effect being like a milking machine. It was all too much. Malcolm gave a great sigh, gritted his teeth, and waited for the orgasmic explosion. Just before the critical point, the motion on his cock stopped. He could feel his veins pulsing in near-orgasm, the throbbing of his heart making his skin rub against the now stationary fur. But the soft insistent rubbing on his balls and nipples continued, keeping him just below the very peak of desire. Each time he thought the sensation was just sufficient to push him over the edge, some part of the movement stopped, and he sank back to the plateau of arousal. Loud cries came from him when this happened; the pounding of his heart sounded so loud in his ears that he thought he might pass out, but still the inexorable stimulus went on. Steady drips of pre-cum fluid poured down the sides of his cock, and were immediately absorbed by the rings of fur waiting there. Malcolm had now remained erect and in an almost orgasmic state for over an hour, a feat which he had often tried to achieve on his own, but found impossible. Never before had he experienced such unbelievable sensations. His nipples were like miniature volcanoes, still being stroked in regular patterns, and his balls ached for release in their tight ridged ball-sack. The head of his cock was swollen inside the tip of his foreskin and was beginning to feel almost painful from the pressure. As if the ministering monsters realised this, the rings round his cock all moved up above his glans, and began to roll down the end of his foreskin, exposing his most sensitive areas. A slightly smaller furry ring, liberally coated with his pre-cum, gripped his cock just under the glans, and began to rotate slowly, always in the same direction, skimming over his incredibly tight frenum, and sending him into paroxysms of ecstasy. Shouts and groans now came from him more frequently, as he felt his whole being concentrate into his throbbing tool. "Don't stop! For god's sake don't stop now!" he yelled in a frenzy, writhing around on the bed as best he could with all four limbs held tightly. And, for once, they didn't stop. Fur on his chest, rubbing his nipples; fur on his balls, rubbing and squeezing; fur on the insides of his legs and even on his feet; furry rings once again milking his cock, but incredibly gently. Gradually, the point of no return was reached. Reached, and passed. Never before had he experienced the sensation of many minutes of orgasm before spurting out his juice. His body bucked and thrashed wildly, trying vainly to reach the climax he so much needed, but his captors were now stimulating him more strongly. Suddenly it was over. All the furry hands and rings released him. Like a fountain, the first spurt of jism shot up towards the ceiling, followed closely by the second. As they fell back onto his red-hot body, further convulsions pumped out enormous globs of creamy white juice until Malcolm was liberally coated with it. Strangled cries and grunts came from him as the sheer force of his ejaculation shook his body. Time after time another spasm wracked him, until he thought he could come no more, but still kept coming. Dazed and exhausted, Malcolm woke from a deep sleep. Screwed up between his legs and over his chest, his furry bed-cover was completely coated with his outpourings, and the last throbs and spurts of his tool reminded him that he had just had his most intense and pleasurable orgasm ever, without being touched by anyone. Smiling, he hugged the furry cover tighter, and willed himself to sleep once more, hoping against hope that the furry monsters would return before morning.