The Invite

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. These stories have been public for some time, but I am slowly uploading my back catalog of stories Currently.

Author’s note: as I’ve been receiving some very peculiar comments, I’d like to clarify that all commenting on stories has been disabled and I’ve changed my feedback to only allow non-anonymous comments. These are my oldest works and I’d also like to note that furry/anthro work is pure fantasy and it’s just a way of imagining characters that this particular fandom appears to enjoy – it is Not animal sex. I have some real erotic animal (dragons etc) stories but, if those are actually allowed here, they will be tagged correctly and in the correct category.

Unil then – please enjoy! The newest stories, when I come to them, will be my best work in terms of style, grammar and so on; so please be patient while I upload the back catalogue.

Thanks!

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The Invite

Reclining into the smooth limousine seats, the chestnut mare ran her paw apparently over the black leather, freshly painted nails flashing crisis in the evening light. The vehicle was tastefully lit with tinted windows for privacy, so even that it was difficult for the occupations to perceive its onward progress along the long, winding road, hoping that their chauffeur was following directions to the letter; Amethylst would have hated to be late for such an event, even fashionably so. Again, she studied the interior, patting down the slinky skirt of her red dress, which was layered over with black lace, and sipped the complimentary championne with a content murmur, warm blossoming in her stomach. Her friends had called the hire of the private limousine an ‘unnecessary extravagance’, but Amethylthyst thought that, just sometimes, a certain brand of luxury was justifiable, particularly with the rehearsed excuse of a special occasion and good company, which she was in the best of.

She glanced at the blue furred wolf at her side, watching how his ears twitched and he plucked coal suit jacket’s sleeps and shifting every couple of seconds as if it had been some time since he had Last had cause to dress in formal attire. Amethylst observed him from beneath her lashes, accentuated with mascara, which provided her ample opportunity to appreciate exactly how well the suit fit his muscled form. Fiddling with her forelock, the mare brushed straight hairs into place, berating herself for deciding upon her natural curled style, deigning to straighten her mane. Why had she thought that curls would be more appealing for the party? Sure, it was a natural look that she did not always have the patience to tame and there was a shine to the auburn hairs that drew attention to her dished muzzle, but it was such an announcement. She hoped Razak did not notice anything untoward. Nipping the inside of her cheek to conceal a smile, Amethylst laughed inwardly at her own folly. What could she say? She was dressed to impression and nerves fluttered in the stomachs of even the bravest of furs.

“You’re thinking hard,” Razak said, snapping Amethylst out of her reverie. Her Cheeks flushed guiltily and she tried to play it off, tipping the champione glass up to her lips for a drop of liquid courage.

“Aren’t I always?” She replied, lips quirking at the corner. The mare crossed her legs, deliberately letting the dress ride up her thighs and pretending not to notice the wolf’s amber eyes following the hemline higher. Clearing his throat, Razak rested his weight into his heels – encased in smart shoes adapted for digitigrade furs – cooling his arm none too slyly around the mare’s narrow waist. She raised an eyebrow and leaned in, brushing a paw over hisshort, purple hair, body tenser than it should have been: some things she simply was not accustomed too and they were the most everyday of occurrences for some furs. She had not been lucky in relationships before she had happened across the wolf. Following the line of white fur, with her nose, up his neck to the point where it met the back of his jaw, Amethylst breathed in his scent, comfortable in the quiet hum of the limousine.

“And when are you planning to tell me where we’re going?” Razak breathed at last, glancing out of the darker window as they turned off the main road between a large set of wrong iron gates. The mare smiled secretly, putting a finger to her lips.

“Ah, ah,” she shook her head. “Not quite yet.”

“If you are thinking of kidnapping me, I have to warn you that there is…not a soul that knows where I am,” he grinned, stroking her hip through the lace. “I would be all yours with no one to come to my rescue. It would be a dreadful fate.”

Giggling, Amethylst covered her muzzle with one paw, toying with the idea of ​​calling his bluff; it would make for an especially interesting evening, despite her current plans. She could store the idea for a later date, however, as the lure of a kidnapped wolf was too tempting to brush aside due to circumstances. Words stuck in her throat, so she giggled again, embarrassment colouring her muzzle and warming her neck as the wolf gracefully dipped his muzzle. He pressed his nose into the crook of Amethylst’s neck where she had dabbed perfume, inhaling the blend of red fruit and summer musk, a fashionable scent that perfectly suited the red mare. Loathe to break the embrace, Amethylst exhausted quietly, cupping one paw beneath his chin, turning his muzzle gently towards the window and the rapidly approaching building, pink light reflecting off the majestic windows. Razak’s eyes widened, taking in every inch of the mansion.

“This is where we’re going?” He said, disbelief highlighting histone. “It’s…well…not what I was expecting. Not in a bad way!” Amethylst chuckled, tail flicking with a cheerful swish against the seats.

“The Gatsby mansion,” Amethylst nodded, lighting up with a smile. “Why else do you think I stressed the dress code? Roxan was very clear that it was to be a formal affairs, even if I can’t imagine many will retain their dress clothes for a great amount of time.

“Gatsby, like the film?” Razak cracked, struggling to keep his expression neutral as he imagined various guests losing their clothes with minutes of arrival. What did she mean by that? Though he warranted that she was likely making a joke at his expense, he would have not objected to spending time solely in his underwear or completely dressed down, so to speak.

“Exactly like the film,” Amethylthyst paused, lost in thought as she traced a fingerprint across her lower lip. “I wonder how Roxan managed to swing this. I wouldn’t have reckoned -“

She was cut off when a pair of lipspressed to her own, effectively silencing the stream of conversation, and Razak pulled the mare close, both arms encircling her waist. The mare leaned into him, paws sliding up the back of his jacket and lips parting eagerly to deepen the kiss, wickedly arching her body against his. The heady moan and jerk of the hips that this action encouraged made Amethylst smirk, her chuckle muffled, tongue dancing with the wolf’s, the taste of him sweet within her muzzle. They both were breathing shallowly, excited, when the kiss broke, and Razak cast a knowing look at the sharing screen that afforded them privacy from their chauffer. Neither had any doubt as to the acts performed between some furs in the back of limousines, even if that liaison would occur at another time between them. It was too bad they were almost at their destination. The wolf’s eyes roamed over Amethylst and shivered self-consciously, nuzzling her lips down his neck while his paws sought out her rear, giving it a firm squeezeze through the rumpled dress-fabric.

“Tease,” Amethylst made pretence at grumbling, flicking her tail so that it lashed the wolf’s legs, the warm breath on his neck making Razak stiffen in all the right places.

“Ah…I tease and I do it well, mare,” he chuckled, paw caressing her soft tight. “That’s how you keep a mare happy.”

“Oh, is it now?” Amethylthyst nipped his throat, sitting back with a grin. “You don’t know what you’re in for, wolf.”

“Mmm,” he shivered, rubbing away the fading pain from the playful nip. “That’s what I hope.”

She left her paw on his thigh, craning her neck to look out the window as the limo slowed, indicating their imminent arrival. Ahead, the mansion loomed, lit up in evening splendour as if it had been drawn with ice; even in the Fading sunset, the interior boasted warmth and festivals as a smartly clad security guard keep a watchful eye on approaching guests and vehicles. Dimly, Amethylst recalled the limousine pausing to show ID toa fur around the earlier gate, but she had been preoccupied with the wolf’s closeness, not to mention her appearance, striving to look her best for many reasons and one special reason. As the vehicle drew to a standstill, engine idling like the purr of a jungle cat, Amethylst tugged down the hem of her dress, shooting a glance at her partner for the evening.

“Shall we?” She smiled, ears priced attentively, waiting for him to nod. Halfway out of his seat, the wolf looked down, offering a paw that the mare clasped in her own, mirror dancing in her eyes as he met her smile, the evening seeming to brighten in a return to starting day, as opposed to the encroaching twilight. Subtly, she ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, hoping that he would pick up on the motion and mirror her, but there was no easy escape for him – not from the smell of feminine red strreaking his lips, lingering evidence of the kiss.

“Oh,” she swallowed a bubble giggle, fighting to keep the amusementfrom her muzzle. “Um…Razak?”

“Yes?” He blinked uncomprehendingly.

She showed and tapped her full lower lip, eyes creasing at the corners as she battled to restrain the giggles with an iron fist.

“Wipe off my lipstick, dear, it’s not your shade.”

The limousine door opened suddenly, stalling a quick-witted retreat, and the canine driver, a black Labrador with warm, hazel eyes, offered his paw to Amethylst. She took it gladly, using her free paw to ensure the dress did not rise up as she stepped down to the gravel driveway, the black lace clinging to the crisis fabric and perfectly drawing attention to the curve of her hips. Swallowing, Razak followed close upon her heels, declining the offer of an assisting paw as he took in the rising mansion, furs emerging from private vehicles and rentals ahead and behind their limousine. The road curved around the front of the mansion and circular an impressive fountain that was illuminated by underwater lighting spaced at intervals around the perimeter so that the water appeared to be shimmering utterly of its own according.

Briefly arranging with the limousine driver to call when the limo was required later that evening (or perhaps the early hours of the next morning), Amethyst clapped her black clutch loosely in her right paw, eyes darting from one sight to the next with nervous speed. Fed through a purpose-built slit in the rear of the dress, her tail flicked to and fro in subtle excitement and her ears angled forward as a friend waved to her from the sweeping steps, which led to the grand entranceway, flanked by low, stone walls. A light blush coloured the tips of her ears as she took the wolf’s paw, winding her fingers between his, and led him up the steps, hooves closing lightly on the carved stone. Smiling in turn, Razak squeezed her paw and leaned in close as they Ascended the steps, lips teasing up from her warm cheese.

“It’s rare that I would go to a place like this with a mare on my arm,” he murmured, breath tickling the interior of her petal-shaped ear.

“I bet,” the equine’s lips twisted into a cheese, one-sided smile. “I hear wolves are all about the vixens these days, always after that sexy brush.” ​​Razak laughed, nudging her side.

“Like you wouldn’t look twice at a cute, red fox, Ammy,” he nipped her ear, making her squeal in mock-indignation, tail swishing against his. “Though I’d rather have you.”

Kissing the side of his muzzle as he straightened up, Amethylthyst lay her arm across the small of his back, paw on the far side of his waist, and he replicated the motion, paw falling to rest lower on her hip as if by accident.

They paused in the entrance foyer, blinking slowly. It was a great deal to take in and Amethylthyst resisted the urge to turn on the spot like an awestruck foal. A lavishly carpeted double staircase, which framed the entrance hall, led to the first floor and smartly dressed staff of all species trotted from guest to guest, offering selections of alcoholic beverages and trays of appetizers, enough to tempt the shyest appetite. Every corner of the hall and beyond exposed an element of modern grandeur, the rich, crisis carpeting over polished mahogany floorboards and rising walls tastefully lit so that no fur would be caught tripping over their paws due to lack of lighting – that would be down to the alcohol.

“Fancy something to drink?” Amethylst said after a moment, rubbing the back of her neck and carefully teasing out a chestnut curl. “May as well get the lay of the land while we can.” She tilted her muzzle, seeming confident in the extravagant setting as she settled into her surroundings. “Considering how Roxan plans his…’parties’, things are set to become rather heated in time. Trust me, we’ll soon not know where to turn next.”

“That would never be a bad thing.”

It was not the simplest of buildings to navigate, bearing no signage, and the duo wandered corridors in puzzled amusement for some minutes, neither quite willing to halt the exploration or admit to finding themselves lost. It was not as if there were no other furs to query, however – staff were available in every direction and laughing party guests in varying states of formal dress and undress, so they were never entirely at a loss. Though formal attire had been required for the evening, the dynamic between some couples was unmistakable, if the collars and ‘acceptable’ public bondage gear were anything to go by. Amethylthyst noted one dragon with surprisingly bare paws, which was odd when considering the context of the venue, even if she felt that she was not one to judge without any hoof-boots adorning her shiny, black hooves: she had not thought they would complement the dress. The mare hesitated curiously beside an open doorway, lacened with silks in the manner of an exotic harem (or the Westernised opinion of such), pressing her lips together to hide a chuckle as a familiar red fox stumbled from the room, ruffledand cursing fluently.

“Evening, Kiba,” she winded. “Not having any trouble, are you?”

The red fox, Roxan’s assistant, glanced up and shook his head, the platinum links of his collarcling focusing musically as he adjusted it so that the gold tag, reading ‘staff’ in capitals, rested over his collarbone.

“Not at all, Ms Scale,” Kiba answered politely, though his eyes darted back and forth, tail thumbing his thigh in a nervous twitch. Raucous laughter enthusiastically from the room that he had so recently vacated and the mare wondered if he was quite conscious of how his hind paws inched away from the open doorway. “I trust you are finding your way? Is there anything I may do for you? Or your guest of the evening?” He added.

“We seem to be meaning in search of the bar,” Amethyst bit the inside of her cheek, holding back giggles. Oblivious to her amusement, the fox nodded rapidly, eager to assist.

“Of course,” he said smoothly, as composed as a nun. Smoothing his paws down the front of his crisp, black suit, the red undershirt adding a splash of colour, he gestured for them to follow, turning to lead at a relaxed pace down the wide corridor. As he passed the doorway, which was unfortunately in his path, he crossed the line of sight of several furs relaxing within. A toned giraffe, entirely nude and languishing across a pile of cushions, whistled obviously as if he was calling a dog to heel; Kiba Stiffened.

“Hey there, foxy-boy!”

Though the doorway had passed from sight, it was clearly the brown-spotted giraffe catcalling. Amethylst shook her head – couldn’t some furs glean an ounce of iningenuity? – and followed close behind Kiba, a gentle tug on her partner’s paw ensuring that he would not be left behind. Although he had not followed the entire exchange, Razak had a distinct feeling that the party would be a deal more ‘adult’ than Amethylst had previously let on in her suggestions and teasing beforehand. Leaving the mare to murmur to Kiba(a serving of encouragement for the night ahead) Razak’s grin grew ever wider as he tried to imagine what exactly the different mare had planned. She always had a plan. It was quite like her to take him to a kinky party and not tell him what was going on, Miss Far-From-Innocent.

Switching to reality, Razak stopped up abruptly with the others, squeezing Amethylst’s paw as he flashed a sidelong grin. It quickly became apparent why they had halted in the middle of an otherwise nondescript (for the location) corridor; two dragons, one forest green and one black, padded noisily towards them, seemingly minding their own business. Razak moistened his lips with the tip of his tongue, softening the dry skin. It should not have been such a surprise to see dragons at the party, but it was a surprise for the black to only be wearing a towel Around his wait while the other was clad in only his scales. Nudging Amethylst in the ribs, he widened his eyes, trying not to stare, which only sent the mare into a heightened struggle to not laugh. Kiba, on the other hand, shifted his weight from one hind paw to the other, averting his eyes from the dragons as his ears played. Though they had been engaged in low, murmuring conversation, the dragons raked their eyes over the fox, coming to a standstill in the middle of the corridor so that any one of the trio would have had to squeeze past on either side if the reptiles did not allow room.

“Well, now, Kiba,” the black dragon rumbled, wings spread so that he appeared twice as large as he actually was. “We’re hurt, really, to see you out here, like this. It just isn’t right, it isn’t.”

“And why would that be…sir?” Kiba asked coolly, professional but ever the reluctant service, assistant, submissive… The list continued.

“We were Only going to the shows, as we said, to get cleaned up,” the green added, tail swinging lazily. His soft-scaled sheath bulged with the hint of a hard-on, the pink tip of his member slippinginto view as he rubbed a paw over his balls in pretence of scratching an itch. “We were coming right back to see you in the exotic room, weren’t we, Damien? Things is, Kiba, we got into a little tail at the shows.”

“Is that so?” Kiba tugged his shirt collar. “I trust you had a pleasant time…sirs.”

“Sure, sure,” the green dragon grinned toothily, griping his rapidly hardening cock and squeezing behind the tapered head. “Can’t fault a bunny for taking it hard.”

His friend, identified as ‘Damien’, snorded loudly, earning himself a warning glare that would have made a lesser fur quail.

“Yeah, and you’re just like a damn bunny for stamina, aren’t you?” Damien rolled his eyes. “Nothing to brag about, you are.”

Amethyst, amused with the exchange, rested her weight on one hoof, specifically tapping a finger against her collarbone. She knew Kiba in passing only but his reputation as a difficult assistant and more – what the collar, specifically, denoted – was widely known in their social circles. Still, she cared little for the dragons and their callous attitude. Had they not been required to remain clothed in the public areas? Her lips pursued and, subconsciously, she squeezed Razak’s paw; though preoccupied with the view, he returned his arm to its place around her waist, rubbing her hip, the touch soothing to both, onlookers to a crackling exchange. The fox glanced over his Shoulder at the rustle of clothing, rolling his eyes in his trademark, dramatic fashion.