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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Athalon's LiveJournal:
[ << Previous 20 ]
| Sunday, September 9th, 2012 | | 9:17 pm |
| | Saturday, August 11th, 2012 | | 10:12 pm |
| | Friday, December 17th, 2010 | | 6:36 pm |
| | Monday, March 2nd, 2009 | | 5:13 pm |
| | Friday, August 29th, 2008 | | 2:38 pm |
Achoo! (Meme)
What's the first thing you do or say after having sneezed during oral sex? | | Saturday, August 2nd, 2008 | | 6:25 pm |
| | Thursday, July 31st, 2008 | | 10:40 pm |
| | Tuesday, July 8th, 2008 | | 12:37 pm |
| | Thursday, May 1st, 2008 | | 7:01 am |
Hooray! Hooray!
It's the First of May!
Outdoor yiffing
Begins today!
| | Wednesday, August 8th, 2007 | | 8:35 am |
| | Sunday, January 21st, 2007 | | 12:20 am |
FurryMUCK Seppuku
FM needs an analogue of Ghastly's "Google Seppuku". You wander 'round until you come upon some furry fetish so bizarre, so disturbing, that you shiver whenever you try to remember your muck password. | | Wednesday, December 20th, 2006 | | 9:10 pm |
| | Saturday, December 2nd, 2006 | | 5:10 pm |
| | Saturday, March 4th, 2006 | | 8:41 pm |
Romantic Ferret Novelism
Trina slipped one hand into the waistband of her jeans. The leather belt with her name on the back was tight, yet her need was even tighter. Sam stood bent over in the stock pen castrating a steer, the sun-red crack of his meaty, manly ass winking enticingly from the back of his own denim work-wear. His buns were firm yet tender, as her best Sunday chicken-fry, which fact Trina knew from fantasy, with the conviction of Bible Belt faith. The handyman was leading her on, the young prairie widow was sure. She found her clitoris ready and wet as an Oklahoma summer afternoon.
| | Friday, October 14th, 2005 | | 2:42 pm |
| | Thursday, August 11th, 2005 | | 8:17 pm |
| | Saturday, April 16th, 2005 | | 7:21 pm |
http://www.bulwer-lytton.com/lyttony.htm
Blood pounded in Fred's skull as the cheetah bent naked over the livingroom sofa, tail raised, heteropride humiliated. The Superbowl show, now ending, blared loudly from the projection TV; fumes of a dozen beers reeked as he belched, male bonding gone horribly awry. Fred had lost the bet and now he would pay. The cat's nextdoor neighbor knelt between the spotty's rear paws. They were both married, yiff buddies at best, seeking forbidden fruit in late night visits to the back alley, or Saturdays in the garage when the wives were a-town. It worked, as long as they never looked each other in the face when the pants were lowered. And Jerry had won the bet, fair and square. More adventurous than his feline friend, he felt that Fred was simply too vanilla. There was something rather pervy that Jerry had secretly wanted to try. He slathered Crisco on a paper towel tube, inserted it deeply into the gasping cheetah. Fred groaned. He hated the thought of racism. But hooking up with a gerbil had been wrong in so many ways! | | Friday, March 4th, 2005 | | 12:00 am |
How Do You Make a Whore Moan?
A vixen is teaching her daughter about the art of prostitution. After a week of theoretical studies, and much homework alone, she has the girlfur hide in the closet while mom's clientele arrives. First there's a wolf. He discusses what he wants while he's undressing, and they negotiate a price. The sophisticated lupin pays for it all, leaving his black socks and boxer shorts on, and promptly takes the vixen to bootyland. Then there's an older mouse who wants a few drinks, a talk and a cuddle. He leaves a pawful of bills folded neatly on the nightstand after, a 'gift'. Finally, a panda shows up, and without speaking, buries his muzzle between the vixen's legs. When she has climaxed noisily three or four times, the male stands and works himself to a creamy, spoogey finish all over her breasts and belly and muzzle. Without so much as a glance or a word, the john pads out. "Wow, Mom," the girlfox says. "You got ripped off! That was freaky!" "Oh, him? He's a regular. Mr. Panda eats, shoots, and leaves." | | Thursday, February 24th, 2005 | | 9:43 pm |
Gang Foxing
Firey's dormroom was empty when I knocked to visit. Well, his room mate was there. Study hall being over, and night chapel still a half-hour away, I had come by for a moment, a bit of encouragement and support after a trying day.
"He's in the bathroom, Athalon."
"Thanks." I backed out, closed the door. Firefox was better at this sort of life, academics and achievement, than me. I shook my head.
The communal restroom was a little further down the hall. It wasn't my floor, so I was cautious. You never know the rules in a place like this. I nosed in carefully, expecting to find the fox brushing fangs.
The bathroom was big, cold white tile, industrial lighting. Smelled of wet concrete, too, cheap Mexican soap. Armpits, burst sneakers. The shower was running; I could tell from steam and spray, sound.
No paws under the stalls; no fox at the trough. Slow water dripped purposelessly down the urinal shelf where half the residents of the wing could have stood for a contest. The row of sinks was free of vulpine decoration, the mirrors there fogged with unvented damp.
"Firefox? You here?"
I peeked around a partition.
"Just a sec, Athalon. I'm..."
"Sorry, Firey."
The fox closed the water spigots, reached for his towel. It was obvious that the faucets weren't the only thing cranked.
"Turn around, ferret. It's not like you haven't seen a fox showering before."
I turned, blushing. Actually, I'd never seen a fox showering before. "Uh, sorry."
"You said that. So what's so important that you had to chase me down?"
"Well, I was wondering if you'd take a look at my paper. Sort of proof read it. Due in the morning."
The fox dried his headfur, ears. Toweled his groin. I tried not to notice.
Really.
"What's your paper on, Athy?"
I sighed. The irony was over the top.
"'The Virtue of Modesty in Victorian England'."
| | Friday, February 11th, 2005 | | 6:30 pm |
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