Everyone calls us "furries" like it's a bad thing

Everyone calls us “furries” like it's a bad thing

October 23, 2025

A fox and his boyfriend demonstrate how being “furry” is more fun than you'd think.

(18+ only!)

Everyone calls me and Daniel “furries.”

That's not the insult they think it is. Furries aren't lonely nerds sitting on their computers all day. We're artists, event organizers, musicians, doctors, electricians, students, sex workers...and lovers.

Second, and this is the important part: it's true. We are furries. And I'll tell you why (just don't tell Danny I told you).

When I see my Danny, I don't see a plain, ordinary human, but a powerful hunter. I see smooth, sleek fur blanketing a lithe figure, curling around his muscles and rolling down his shoulders. When I press my hand to his belly, I feel his abs beneath a soft, warm bed of cream-colored fur. I can run my fingers through it, feeling each individual strand and taking in its texture, firm enough to rest my head on yet soft enough to fall asleep.

Someone asked me “well, how can you kiss with two muzzles?” As much as I'd prefer to demonstrate visually, an explanation will have to do. When your boyfriend has a sleek muzzle like Danny, that just means there's more mouth to enjoy. I like to start by nuzzling my lips against his, feeling his soft, warm lips brush against mine. I like to press the side of my muzzle against his to hear and feel the warmth of his gasping breath in my ears. Each breath tingles the fur lining my ears, tickling me and making them flutter reflexively. I blush a little, realizing I can't control them, but it's okay: after all, I'm a furry, and this is just one of the many unique ways furries convey emotion.

When it's time for the main event, we both open our maws and tilt our heads slightly to the side. We bring our maws together, and like keys in a lock, they fit together perfectly. You can lose yourself in a kiss without having to worry about accidental bites. And remember, foxes have an average body temperature of 38 degrees Celsius (100.4 Fahrenheit for you New Worlders), which is slightly warmer than humans. This might not sound like much, but you absolutely feel it in the moment. It absorbs into your body and radiates down your spine into your limbs. Speaking of which, you probably both have your arms around each other now, and if he's really into it (which he always is), you'll feel 10 sharp points pressing into your fur. These are—you guessed it—his claws: tools built for hunting and shredding, now used to grip and pull you into his embrace. The hunter drawing in his prey.

We both draw away from each other to catch our breath. Foxes don't sweat the same way humans do: our ears radiate heat, and we pant. The beautiful thing about this is that when Danny and I are together, our tongues are always out and ready to explore. I love to pull back from a long kiss, watch our shared saliva droop and drip onto our bellies, then lean in and press my tongue to his nipples. He gives off the cutest little yip, and we haven't gotten to the fun part yet.

For humans, the word “boner” is a euphemism. But for us, it's real. I can feel him rising against me, his hot member nuzzling into my fur, pressing into my crotch, teasing me. It bounces a few times, begging me to play with it; I can feel a tiny bit of coolness at its tip as he leaks into my fur. I'll pretend to think about it—because that's what teasy, bratty foxes do—but I'm just as eager to take it as he is to give it. I love to wrap my hand around it and feel its girth, especially when I can feel it harden against my fingers. If I'm feeling playful, I'll stroke a finger up and down along its length and trace my finger along the tip, teasing out more of his nectar. If I hear a moan or feel a twitch, I'll know I hit a sweet spot. Oh, but I can't let him have all the fun. I have wants and needs, too.

First, I like to lay Danny onto his back so he's comfortable and his dick is standing straight up, like a rocket ready for liftoff. I'll trace my fingers up along it and feel it pulse and throb under my touch. I'll even give his frenulum a little tickle if I'm feeling silly (which I usually am). But enough teasing. I straddle him, my knees resting under his arms and squeezing his sides. He cups my ass with both hands and squeezes until my fur sticks out in between his fingers, then he slowly inches a finger towards my hole. I can't help myself and moan as I feel him press a finger against me. And then, when he slips it inside—ooohhhhh, I need him right now!

I give his finger a gentle squeeze, letting him know I'm ready. He moves his paw out of the way and grips his dick. It's rock solid and glistening, with a leaking drop of precum on the tip. Absolute perfection. He presses his head against my hole, nestles the very tip inside, then grabs onto my thighs and shoves his hips up with practiced precision.

Reader. You can't even begin to understand the sheer ecstasy. The heat of his member filling me from the inside out. His girth sliding and pushing against me with every tiny movement. His moans as he drives himself deeper and deeper, his claws digging into my thighs as he pulls me closer to him. The soft, smooth skin of his balls against my ass when he gets as deep as he can. He says he can feel my heartbeat when he's hilted, and I nod, even though it's really just me squeezing his pole involuntarily. It's the closest we can get to being a single being.

Danny tells me to relax, and I do. My primitive brain is in charge now and commanding me to do whatever this beast orders. He starts rolling his hips, driving in as deep as he can before pulling partly back out. Even before the second push, I'm rock hard and dripping onto his belly. His cock has a lovely hourglass shape: girthy at the base and just below the head. I can feel each thrust throughout my entire body, making my dick bounce and leak each time his thighs bump against me. His chest heaves and falls as he pants, his belly presses against my balls and my dick. I can see the pleasure in his face: his partially closed eyes, how he bites his lower lip when he thrusts into me, the moans he gives when I tug and squeeze at him. Beauty, love, and passion, all wrapped into one angelic being. He says the same of me, but obviously it's not true. I'm just a regular old fox who got really lucky.

Our breaths are getting faster, our bodies hotter, our thoughts more distant. He's whimpering and clawing at me now, leaving streaks in my thigh fur, begging me to get him there. I lean back a bit, getting myself at just the right angle, then start thrusting my hips up and down in tune with his. He throws his head back and growls, and I know I hit it just right. There's another kind of heat in me now, going even deeper than his dick, seeping into all the places his member can't reach. I feel him throbbing deep in me, but I also feel a sort of fullness. It's his knot, swelling just inside of me and pulling his hips snugly against my ass. This is just enough to push me over the edge, and I can't hold back. All of my love and passion rushes down to my crotch and spills out onto Danny's chest, seeping into his chest fur. He grins and grinds against me as he watches me climax, trying to tease out as much as he can. I watch him lovingly scoop up a bit of cum with a finger and lick at it. He puts his finger out towards me and I obediently wrap my tongue around it, savoring the taste of him and myself. We both stare deeply into each others' eyes as we slowly descend back to earth, knowing that no matter what the world throws at us, it can never take away this experience.

Everyone calls us furries like it's a bad thing. But if this is part of what being furry is, why the fuck wouldn't you want to be one?