Archive-name: Solo/furry.txt

Archive-author: John Dawson

Archive-title: Furry





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.



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