Don’t get the wrong, the mega-foxes of the 80′s are still some of the finest examples of spunk targets imaginable. I’m only explaining the grandeur of 30′s furs because my experience on the old FurHub taught me that my opinion wasn’t commonly shared amongst others of my kind.
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On the 80′s there was general agreement, to be sure, but, after various conversations I discovered what appeared to be the rather superficial reason for finding my gigabytes of Turner Classic Movie captures to be comparatively less than desirable.

Save Us, Ted Turner!

People don’t like black and white. Honestly, I still don’t get it, but that seemed to be the chief complaint against the “old” movies. Were the foxes just as, if not more awesome? Hell yes they were. They were in black and white, though, and apparently that made them inferior. The more “modern” captures, be they film or the ever popular Dynasty or Paper Dolls, were always most requested.
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I’ve never really found it problematic to whack off to Greta Garbo over Morgan Fairchild. The fact that one is in black and white the other is in color never really crosses my mind as I’m mulling over exactly how many gallons of sperm would be soaking their respective fox coats. Yet many seem to unable to reconcile Greta’s monochrome hues.
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Feel free to comment about the glories of Technicolor over the drab grays of black and white. My position is simple, if it’s a giant fox coat, I don’t care if it’s being shown in black and white or color. For those who do, I’d love to know why.

“Furries” are, well, complicated. The short, short version is they either very much like, or see themselves as, anthropomorphic animals. It’s the animal part, mostly the “furry” kind (bunnies, cats, dogs, skunks, etc) from whence the name arose. I’m not even going to try to do any kind of in depth explanation.

If you’d delved even a bit past the surface, you’ll discover there’s a lot to know. There’s factions, cliques, adult & non-adult variations, etc. The list goes on. Just take a look at this list of “furry codes” to help furries identify their particular take on the furry world to one another. It’s a complex community that I’m not going to trivialize by attempting to explain it all in a single blog post. The basic point is, you’ll probably come across them if you search for “fur porn” on the net.

The Commonality of Spooge

The one thing to know about furries is there are some crossovers between them and our more fashion-oriented take on a fur fetish. I’ve spoken to a couple furries that also have an interest in fur coats. By “interest” I mean fucking them and splattering them with spooge.

They like the term spooge a lot, by the way.

One confessed he’d like to have a fur-suiter orgy with a fur coat where they all fucked and spooged all over it. I freely admit the idea gave me a boner.

So don’t dismiss them out of hand. They contain a few of our fellow fur (coat) fuckers, and are very big on huge white loads, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

They get a bit beaten up in the general Internet, so give’em a break.

What’s this Blue Fox Coat Crap?

I do admit to wondering if a furry searching for “fur porn” on the Internet actually gets annoyed when our stuff shows up. Then again, I remember there’s far less of our stuff than there is of theirs, heh, so they don’t have to worry about it as much. Still, it’s an amusing thought.

Then I got screwed.

And not in the good way.

Technically we all did, but I personally think anyone who developed this fetish in 80′s got hit particularly hard when the 90′s rolled around. I was old enough by the end to see it happening, even in the last couple years of my favorite decade. The drought was in full swing by the time the calendar flipped over 1990.

Why?

As much as the AR folks would love to take credit for the public backlash against fur in the 90′s, I think they just got lucky. Fashion is cyclical, and, after basically gorging on the biggest furs seen since my second favorite decade (the 30′s), it was time for fur to depart the scene as a significant element of fashion.

Unfortunately, a perfect storm of publicity coincided with this decline. What might otherwise have been a simple, brief dip in the fashion cycle for the rabid fur fuckers turned into a PR bonanza for the other side. Fur wasn’t just in a natural decline, it was going away because the public was “waking up to the cruelty.”

Thus, as the “shame game” blanked media, and supermodels lept on the “go nude” bandwagon, I was left with watching Turner Classic Movies to see the “newest” furs on TV.

Fur is Back, Again, and Again

If I’m not mistaken, fur has been “making a comeback” virtually every year since around 2000. There was, and still is, a bunch of stories about how fur is “back” in Fashion Week, etc. The good news is that means it was back a long time ago and the press merely needs a narrative to wrap around the story every year, lest everyone else figure out they just did a story on furs.

Most of those nude supermodels have suddenly made peace with the pelt and gone on to wear fur personally and professionally. The latest crop of PETAs PR campaigns stall as everyone suddenly remembers it’s pretty much “okay” to wear fur. Not because of any cosmic pass written by the universe, simply because the fashion cycle, the one that helped them so much in the 90s, is now, as it is most of the time, working against them.

They still protest, whine, and complain just as much, but everyone finally figured out that wasn’t news.

The Wait

So fur is back, and is working its way into media once more. Is it the 80′s again? No, of course not, and it’s not very realistic to hope things will snap back to that point immediately. We may go through a decade or so of reasonably “conservative” fur fashions before the big guns once again dominate.

I only hope I can last that long. It was a damn long time from the 30′s to the 70′s and 80′s. Hopefully it won’t be another 40-50 years before I can catch a flick where the female lead, ever so nonchalantly, wears a massive, hooded blue fox with barrel muff cuffs for the entire film.

Okay, that’s probably wishful thinking. But it’s fun wishful thinking.

The ever popular Dallas:

Dallas was good, Dynasty was better. This is an interesting example, where someone edited together my clips. Kind of an edit of an edit:

The best example of doing some modification I found is from the lovely Charlene:

Now that’s some good work. Yes, the “Tgirl” after Charlene’s name on YouTube means she is excellently equipped to enjoy the huge fox coats she looks so marvelous in. Talk about a girl with great taste in furs…

If you’re wondering what the hell the “FurHub” was, then I’m not going bother spelling it out at the moment. You may have some luck on Google, who knows. At the moment I consider it beyond the scope of this post.

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Where They Came From

If you’re wondering what the hell an FCR clip is, then I’ll be more than happy to enlighten you. They are a series of edited video captures from various sources I made from around 2001 to 2005, mostly collected from TV media from the 2 greatest decades known to fur fashion, the 30′s and the 80′s. That would, of course, be Turner Classic Movies (and AMC before they tried to become ‘popular’) and SoapNet (before Melrose Place become a “classic”).

There was a whole bunch in between, of course, but I would say the lion’s share came from those 2 sources.

Where They Got To

I made the caps to share for free on the FurHub, where I spent much time over those years, happly letting others enjoy the fruits of my labor for free. Sure, I accrued a few gigs of stuff in return, of course. That was idea.

The point is I didn’t really have a nefarious plan to “monetize” the clips. Hell, they were all from popular film and TV shows. I was fine from a “Fair Use” perspective so long as I didn’t do just that… try to get people to pay for them. I wouldn’t exactly call them derivative works, but the editing and sound did put them slightly higher on the fair use food chain.

Many of them have since “gotten loose”. Trust me, it amuses me to no end to see some of them popping up on YouTube. YouTube wasn’t around when I started, so it’s not like I considered it when I started out. I don’t know if anyone posting the vids there have run afoul of Hollywood’s henchmen, but the ones I have noticed seem to have some lasting power (and comments like “where’s the sound?”).

Perhaps that’s just because they’re more concerned about full copies of Spiderman 3 than old clips of Dynasty.

I’ve also seen them on the more well known file sharing networks. I suppose once someone bothers to torrent them, they’ll have made all the P2P rounds.

I understand everyone’s favorite patron of the current FurHub even charges people to see them on his FurFashionGuide.com website. Here’s to you, Cookie, you’re a heck’uva guy.

Huh… I Can’t Hear You

Since I wasn’t smart (or conceited) enough to put a little brand on my videos, it may be hard to know if that video of a magnificently huge fox coat was originally mine. If you’re not sure if what you’re seeing is, or used to be, an FCR vid, it’s easy. I did end up leaving one rather identifiable mark on all my videos.

None of them have sound.

That’s right, completely silent- nothing but visual stimulation for me. I did this for a couple reasons. First was the perception that sound added unnecessary size to the files. I was ever in search of the best balance between size and quality. Seemed like a decent compromise, especially in light of the second reason.

I spent a lot of time editing the clips. That would be editing out shots that didn’t have fur in them. So, for instance, if there was a scene where a chick in fox was talking with a guy, then I’d edit out anytime the stupid director thought it was necessary to cut away from her and to the guy. I prided myself on delivering 100% fappable fur clips.

A huge pet peeve of mine is trying to jerk off to a great fur and having the scene bounce between it and some dude. That’s just lazy capping, I’m sorry.

The edits inevitably lead to jumps in the soundtracks, since the director also included dialog, background music, etc., when he saw fit to show the guy on screen as well. Thus, with sound, the clips would be, in my opinion, distracting due to the sound cuts that accompanied the edits.

So they have no sound. One is free to let their disgusting imaginations run free as some hot bitch fox parades around the screen. You’re welcome.

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Okay, So, Maybe…

I think, for those so married to “sound” my solution would have been this… Edit some porno track moans over the entire clip. Thus you’ve got a chick in fur on screen all the time, while you get some nice moaning / gasping / fucking noises to accompany it. Sounds like a winning combination to me, but, I’ve never bothered to try it.

If someone edits one of the clips like this, I’d love to hear it.

I used to do a lot of it, back in college, of both the “legitimate” and prurient types. Maybe I’ll unleash some of those early examples on the world via this blog someday. Some might enjoy them more as I was far less concerned with such luxuries as “plot” back then. It was more a wham-bam-splat-you-ma’am affair back then.

I’ve written long form works before, (again, early on) but as time passed and my collegiate career became more and more distant, I found myself unable to finish anything. In fact, as time passed, I noticed the amount of pages I produced before giving up on any one project steadily declined. Until, of course I made the far more efficient choice not to get started in the first place.

The Locker Era

A couple Christmases ago, I actually managed to start cranking out a few short stories of a fetish nature. The first one “Locker F69″, was borne of a couple things. First, my long standing annoyance that virtually all fur fetish fiction is produced by what I’ve come to call “fur submissives”. If I read another story with “No, my pet, you can’t cum on my fur” again, I was gonna scream. Second was merely a challenge to write a fur fetish story without horse hung shemales as the main characters.

I wanted to crank out something a bit more accessible to the masses. The objective was to craft a fur fetish story about a group of “regular” guys. Regular as we understand it, at least. They ended up being pro football players, but what’s more “regular” than football? I never particularly intended to keep writing stories about them, but I ended up appreciating them enough to keep them, and their “everyman” leader, Jim, around.

Sure, the lack of horse hung shemale characters didn’t last long, but I was pretty happy with the original attempts. I mean to give the “guys” another story all their own someday, but that’s someday, and this is a post about writing being hard.

My Muse Is A Deadbeat Mom

Despite my best intentions, sitting down to write new stories has been next to impossible. A combination of distractions are to blame, but these same or similar distractions were around when I created the first set. Now their siren call is simply stronger, I suppose. I can’t really put my finger on what made me so productive, a couple years ago or back in college, but I’ve certainly exited my recent “productive phase”.

This blog, in a certain way, I an attempt to break out. Or back in, as the case may be. All these words are writing. They aren’t fiction, but they are writing. So maybe I can make the leap back to some good ole, nasty fur fucking fiction someday. It’s not like I didn’t enjoy what I was doing, but… well… it’s just hard.

Perhaps that drunk absentee bitch of a muse of mine will get off her ass and get back to work. I’d have fired her a long time ago, but muses have tenure.

Open Call

Since my own ideas escape me, I’m open to other’s suggestions. Feel free to reply with story ideas of your own. I’m in no way promising I’ll actually get around to writing the stories, but I’m always keen on hearing new ideas. Hell, if you write one yourself, I’ll read it, and if it kicks spunk-stained-fox ass, then I’ll post it on the site. I’m always looking to encourage the more “dominate” fur fetishists to get their fingers typing and turn out some stories.

We’ve got a lot of submissive fiction to balance out, after all.

Keep It Up

Also, a final note to anyone who writes “submissive” fiction…

Don’t stop, keep doing it.

I’m not saying your technique is bad or anything, I’m just saying your plots aren’t my speed. That’s okay, I don’t want anything to think I’m suggesting you quit just because I don’t like it. I want to encourage fur fetish fiction in all its forms, I’m just hoping I’m encouraging a little more “balance” in the nature of that fiction.

I thought it reasonably appropriate to start out the blog with the very thing that, it’s own special way, got me here today. That would be the sheared fox collar you see pictured above. You see, that little piece of fur pretty much popped my cherry.

All I Had to Work With

I had been prowling the hall closet for a while back then. I honestly can’t remember how old I was, probably around 8, but that is just a guess. Sadly, the tales of fellow fetishists who “cut their teeth” (cocks) on closets full of sumptuous fox coats are mere fantasy to me. Mom basically had crap, which makes it all the more amazing I ended up here.

My usual “flings” were a full length fake white leopard, and that sheared fox collar. There were a couple other older coats with older collars, but they were even less to speak of. I’d use them only to add some variety to my stroking before going back to the old standbys. The photo you see here, strangely, is pretty much the exact same faux white leopard coat, but, obviously, that’s not my mother.

It’s All dry humping until…

Until that, to put it dramatically, “fateful day”, my visits to the closet generally involved some dry humping with my stiff cock. Honestly, I really wasn’t “analyzing” it at the time, I just knew it felt good. I didn’t know there a “point.” I remember mostly favoring the faux leopard, even though the sheared fox collar was softer. The leopard was larger, and it was what started this whole thing off in the first place.

Another story for another day. Besides, it’s not one that’s quite so jerkable.

I can’t say when it happened, exactly, but one day it began like most every previous trip… sliding into the closet, making sure no one noticed, and pulling down the shorts. I was starting to like the sheared fox collar more and more, so it was becoming a bit more of a common playmate at the time. It basically felt a lot better than the faux leopard. Let’s face facts, modern faux is far from a perfect facsimile of the real thing, and this one was 30 year old “technology.” It was pretty much a big plushie coat.

I had the coat down, facing away from me, so I was humping my dick along the top rear of the collar, at basically the thinnest point. I enjoyed running my shaft right and left across the back of the collar, as the fur there was cool to the touch and enveloped my cock nicely.

So, there I was, standing and jerking the top of the collar up and down under my cock, until… Well, I can’t quite recall… At the time I suddenly realized “something” happened, something that hadn’t happened before, and that I suddenly wasn’t quite so horny anymore. I remember thinking there was some strange wet stuff and briefly wondering whether I’d “hurt it.”

Me, not the coat.

The Load Is Cast

I’d like to say it was a really magical moment, and perhaps, in some fashion, it was, but really I was mostly confused and a bit concerned. I left the closet and life went on. I didn’t die and I kind of remembered that it had, in fact, felt pretty damn good. Thus, I was back again, over and over… and this time I had a “goal.”

Hey, I wonder if the fact that my first wet orgasm got shot onto a fur had some sort of effect on me… Sigh, we may never know…

I finally put 2 and spunk together and realized it was one of those “orgasm” things I’d read about. Satisfied it wasn’t deadly and was, in fact, supposed to feel good, I made sure to have one as often as possible.

I think out of sheer ignorance at first, I tossed little loads into the faux leopard once I got “the hang” of it. I was blissfully ignorant of “getting caught” for the first few months. The little brownish hard spots started adding up over time. Finally I wised up and the right hand was routinely carting white spooge up to the nearest convenient bathroom for a quick wash in the sink.

Regrets, I’ve Pulled A Few

The best thing I remember about those days is this: I literally had to have fur to get off. That sheared fox collar was my primary gateway to orgasm. I couldn’t complete the transaction with my hand for the longest time. Only stroking that wonderful collar would let me blow some thick, young, potent jizz.

I remember being a bit proud of the fact that I finally managed to do it with hand the first time. Now I feel kind of like those were the best times, the times when only fur could get me off. Oh well.

Granted, life would have been a bit “harder” during those times fur wasn’t accessible. That’s what imagination and a red right hand is for, after all.

I do derive some pride and satisfaction in still having the very thing that intoduced me to wonders of spunked fur.  It’s still nearly as soft and strokable as it was all those years ago.  I’m not sure how many fellow fetishists can make a simlar boast.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I suddenly feel the need to relive some old times…