Hanging his head, Anon stared into the rocks glass in his hand. He’d had no way of knowing that ponies were so skilled at distilling spirits, but he found himself immeasurably thankful that they were. The last few months of his likely permanent stay in Equestria had been particularly rough, so he’d decided to drown his sorrows. Taking a sip of his scotch, a damn fine single malt, he disinterestedly scanned the room.
Ponyville wasn’t by any means a bustling metropolis, but the construction of the School of Friendship had brought an influx of residents to the area. New residents meant new businesses - new businesses which included the establishment he currently haunted. Taking in the scene around him, a deep sigh escaped him.
Some entrepreneurial creature had constructed an honest to goodness bar, like something out of an old timey movie, and he found the place remarkably relaxing. The soft sound of jazz filled the air, played from a jukebox in the corner, while patrons quietly chatted with company or, like himself, solitarily sat and coped with life. The overwhelming majority of the clientele were ponies, which was pretty typical for the small town, but there was one exception; sitting at the far end of the bar, four seats away, rested a griffon.
It was relatively rare for him to see a raptor around, with only a handful attending the local academy, so the sight was a curious one. Covered in a sandy brown coat, with slightly darker plumage, the bird-cat looked vaguely reminiscent of a bald eagle. Cocking his head, subconsciously turning towards her, his focus shifted solely to her - yes, her.
Though it took him a minute to determine her sex, he was definitely looking at a female. Her large eyelashes, paired with the tinge of heliotrope around her eyes and marking the whites of her bangs, for lack of a better word, were only the first hints that she was, in fact, a she. As his eyes wandered down her frame, drinking in her decidedly feminine features, he absentmindedly gazed at her rump.
While her upper half bore several strikingly avian characteristics, the lower portion of her body was distinctly mammalian in appearance. Her cat-like hind legs dangled over the edge of her perch, with her backside resting on the lip of the stool. It was odd enough to spot an equine seated in such a seemingly unnatural fashion, so seeing a griffon lounging in the casual manner immediately drew his interest - not just because of the novelty, but because her thighs and tush were exceptionally well displayed.
Despite himself, possibly because of his two prior drinks, he leaned back slightly and gave himself a better look. From behind her lazily swishing tail, the cheeks of her behind were on full display. It was commonplace for Equestria’s denizens to go about in the buff, with only a select few regularly wearing clothes, so the sight shouldn’t have been as captivating as it was - then again, his misfortune with romantic affairs was one reason he’d decided to knock a few back.
Sadly, all of his attempts at dating had either ended terribly or been rejected outright. So far as he knew, his failures hadn’t been because he was human, since ponies were open to courting outside their species, but he’d struck out on multiple times regardless; the thought reignited his melancholy. Languidly drawing his attention from what was undoubtedly a plump and very squeezable ass, and back to her face - a face that was staring dead at him.
Her brilliant, amber eyes locked with his, while a coy little smile played across her golden beak. There was no doubt about it, he’d been caught with his metaphorical hand in the cookie jar. Taking another sip from his glass, as he swiftly averted his gaze, the spirit warmed his throat. If he was lucky, and he desperately hoped he was, she wouldn’t take offense to his momentary, albeit inappropriate attention. Unfortunately for him, she wasn’t willing to let matters lie.
The soft groan of a stool was all the warning he got, before a soft chuckle caused him to glance over. The griffon, for some reason or another, had deemed fit to relocate herself to the seat just beside him. Feigning disinterest, barely acknowledging her, he nodded. The ball was in her court, especially after she’d spotted him eyeing her goods, so he’d leave it to her to make the next move.
Nonchalantly looking him over, from the shoes on his feet to his shortly cropped hair, she met his eye. “So,” she began, running one taloned digit around the rim of her highball glass, “you must be the human I’ve heard ponies squawking about…”
“Yup, that’s me, Anonymous the human,” he responded, keenly aware that he may be needing another scotch.
It wasn’t like he minded being the local curiosity, but the novelty of it had quickly waned. It had taken months for the inhabitants of Ponyville to acclimate to his presence, although his first few weeks in town had left him feeling like a broken record. He’d explained who he was, where he was from, and how he didn’t understand why he’d been whisked to their world more times than he cared to count - still, the occasional newcomer or tourist would lightheartedly interrogate him.
“Before you ask,” he flatly stated, taking a slug of his drink, “I don’t know how I got here, I’m from a world without magic, and us humans do usually wear clothes.”
“Shame -” she sighed, shamelessly peering at his hip, “It’d be nice to see what’s under all that baggy cloth, if I do say so myself.”
The last time Anon remembered doing a double take so hard was when he’d first heard a pony talk. There had been a few ponies who were inquisitive about his physiology, namely Princess Twilight, but there hadn’t been a single one to be so brazen with their curiosity before. Quirking one brow, attempting to formulate a reply, she extended a forelimb towards him.
“I’m Gilda, by the way,” she announced, smiling up at him.
“You can just call me Anon,” he responded, shaking her hand. “You’re not from town, are you?”
“Can’t say I am. You heard of Griffinstone?” she inquired.
Anon nodded, waving for the bartender. “Home of the griffons, if I remember right. I’ve never been there myself, but I heard -”
“It’s a dump,” she cut him off. Releasing his hand, she hefted her glass and took a long draught. “A dump I really need to get away from.”
“Damn - I’m sorry to hear it,” he remarked, handing his glass to the unicorn stallion behind the bar.
Truth be told, he had heard Griffinstone wasn’t one of the better places in Equestria. A harsh, arid climate, little water or resources, and the populace weren’t, if the stories were right, all that welcoming. Glancing to his newfound acquaintance, seeing she’d finished her drink, he waved a hand to the barkeep.
“Give her another, on me, she looks like she could use it,” he noted, prompting the unicorn to take her emptied glass.
“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or upset, buying a girl a drink like that,” Gilda snickered, resting one elbow on the counter.
As the bartender levitated his neat beverage towards them, she reached out and casually plucked the glass from the air. Without a care in the world, as if she’d purchased the drink herself, she helped herself to a sip. The second she swallowed, she winced and set the liquor down.
“Like ‘em strong, eh?” she muttered, moments before the man slid the drink over to himself.
Anon shrugged, nonplussed. “I like ‘em simple and strong, sue me.”
“Funny,” she snickered, giving herself another immodest appraisal of his comparatively large frame, “I could say the same thing.”
Whatever he’d been about to say was lost, as her words sank in. Either she was talking about her preference in drinks or in guys, and he didn’t think it was the former. Studying her for a moment, with his curiosity piqued, he watched her take her beverage from the approaching stallion. He wasn’t sure what direction the conversation would take, but he was becoming increasingly interested by the feathered feline.
“What’ve you got there? If you don’t mind me asking, that is,” he inquired.
“Dalgren,” she coolly answered, offering him the glass. “Want to try it?”
“Fuck it,” he replied. Seeing as how she’d helped herself to a sip of his scotch, he saw no harm in sharing a drink with her. Lifting the highball, taking a generous swig, his eyes lit up. Zingy and a bit tart, lively flavors washed over his tongue. Smacking his lips, cheerfully surprised with how good it was, he handed her the cocktail back. “This have ginger in it?”
“Mmmhmm,” she hummed, swirling the highball in her hand. “I always take mine extra spicy.”
“It’s funny you should mention that,” he warmly retorted, grinning to himself, “because I’ve always had a soft spot for spicy stuff.”
Returning his smile, Gilda swung around to face him. “So what brings a big guy like you to a little bar like this?”
Shifting in place, angling towards her, he shook his head. “Honestly, nothing in particular. Just figured I’d relax before I head home for the night. What about yourself?”
“Came to visit Dash at the School of Friendship. I could hardly believe they gave her a teaching gig, so I had to see it for myself,” she softly chuckled.
“No shit - you know Rainbow Dash?” he scoffed.
Though he’d only met the prodigal flier on a handful of occasions, he was well aware of the pegasus’ exploits. She was one of the fabled Elements of Harmony, a close friend of the resident Princess, and she’d helped save Equestria on a number of occasions. The fact that he was talking to a friend of one of the semi-local heroes gave him a moment for pause - that was, until he noticed her expression shift.
Peering into her drink, Gilda grimaced. “Probably shouldn’t be knocking these back, since I’ve gotta fly home.”
“Lucky for me, I live just down the road,” Anon proudly proclaimed, downing another slug of his drink.
That was one of the few fortunate things about living in Ponyville, he was never too far from home. The town was just big enough to have all the creature comforts easily accessible, while being small enough to feel comfortable. He’d never liked bigger cities, even when he was back on Earth, so the village he’d ended up settling in suited him perfectly.
“Must be nice,” she groused. Taking a long pull from her glass, draining nearly a third of its contents, she pinched the bridge of her beak. “I have a three hour flight ahead of me, and I’m pretty sure my coop is gonna be freezing by the time I get back.”
Given the time of year, and the fact that Equestria wasn’t all that technologically advanced, she was probably right. Unless she had someone at home waiting for her, any wood burning stove would have run out of fuel before she got home. It was pretty late in the evening too, well past nine, and the sun had set hours ago - needless to say, she wasn’t doing herself any favors by getting tanked.
Rubbing his chin, Anon knit his brow. “I’m guessing you didn’t expect to be in town this long?”
“Not really, but I got caught up. First I went and had my visit with Dash, then she invited me out to dinner; before I knew it, I wound up here,” she explained. “I figure a few drinks might warm me up for my trip home.”
While there may have been some validity to her actions, he couldn’t help but think she was making a bad choice. He had no way to truly relate to her situation, because he wasn’t able to fly, but his gut told him that soaring while sloshed would be a big mistake. Rainbow Dash lived in Cloudsdale, a considerable distance away, which meant staying at her friend’s house wasn’t a practical option - still, that didn’t mean she was completely out of luck.
“Couldn’t you crash somewhere here in town?” he postulated, waving his glass at her.
Raising a brow, the avian leaned back. “That an invitation?”
“I - uh,” he faltered, caught woefully off guard by her glib rebuttal.
Perhaps because of his buzz, how quickly they’d struck up a conversation, or because they’d each ogled one another, he felt emboldened. If she wanted to toss around a flirt of that caliber, who was he to oppose. Bolstering himself with another nip of his whisky, he smirked at her.
“I mean, I do have a bed to my lonesome,” he quietly remarked. As if the tease wasn’t direct enough, he shot her a wink.
If it wasn’t the alcohol catching up with her, his comment brought the slightest blush to her cheeks. Whatever she was about to say or do appeared to require just a touch more Dutch courage, though she quickly composed herself and made her move. Appraising him one final time, with her gaze lingering on his groin, she polished off her beverage and sat the emptied glass onto the bar.
Extending her arms over her head, while arching her back, she stretched. It would have been a pretty cute display, were it not for what she did immediately afterwards. Reaching out, resting one hand on his leg, she shrewdly caressed his thigh. If the tactile contact wasn’t a dead giveaway that she was down for a fling, nothing was.
His smile broadened, as he fished into his pants for his wallet. Though he’d had no way of knowing he’d find himself on the cusp of a random hookup, he wasn’t going to complain - after all, a spontaneous night of passion was better than no passion at all. Slapping a generous amount of bits onto the counter, hopefully enough to cover both their tabs, he flipped a coin to the bartender.
“Looks like someone got lucky tonight,” Gilda snickered, beaming over at the stallion.
Anon couldn’t rightly say if she was referring to the barkeep, herself, or him - regardless, a heady cocktail of arousal and anxiety welled within him. Walking out of the dive, with his feathered companion by his side, the gravitas of the situation settled over him. There he was, walking home with someone he’d only just met, more than likely about to get laid.
It’d been ages since he’d gotten any action, and he’d never once fooled around with anything outside of his species, so his lack of practice and the novelty of it all left him sobered, if only just. He presumed bedding a quadruped wasn’t that different from a biped, especially since Gilda’s ass-half was mammalian, but the simple fact was he had no way to be sure. Doing his damnedest to dismiss his worry, he shook his head.
Realistically speaking, there was no assurance that anything of consequence would happen. It was late, frigid outside, and his acquaintance had been drinking; for all intents and purposes, she did need somewhere to stay for the night, lest she risk a doubtlessly long and arduous journey back to her coop, so it wasn’t impossible to think they’d just end up sleeping. Caught up in his thoughts, walking in silence, he glanced over at her.
She walked like a pony, having a typical four-legged gait, and her size was comparable to the average Equestrian denizen, but the similarities ended there. Like most of the equines he’d met, barring the rare exception, the top of her head met his abdomen, while her hips came up to just below his waist. He’d thought about doing the do with a mare countless times, even getting off to the notion, but he hadn’t been lucky enough to breach the interspecies boundary - at least, not yet.
Looking around, presumably at some of the newer buildings in the area, Gilda eventually peered up at the man. “This place has really grown.”
“Yeah, it has,” he responded, leading the way to his abode. “That’s not a bad thing though - hell, I’ve been working at the newspaper place since they opened about half a year ago.”
“Sounds boring,” she huffed, scrunching her nose.
Holding up his hands, he shrugged off her apparent disdain. “It’s not a bad gig. I can walk to work, the pay ain’t bad, and I get free copies of the paper.”
Rolling her eyes, she flapped and readjusted her wings. “Whatever you say, big guy.”
“How about you?” he countered, slowing marginally. “What do you do?”
“Flight trainer and conscripted farmer,” she grunted. “Trust me, neither is as glamorous as you might think…”
Anon opened his mouth to reply, but remained silent. He knew all too well how crummy it was to be stuck in a job you hated, so he’d really rather not rub her the wrong way - especially because he’d hopefully be rubbing her the right way shortly. Raising his head, spotting his apartment on the upcoming block, he reached for his keys; alas, his momentary distraction and the alcohol warming his veins proved a tragic mix. Inattentively misstepping over the curb, catching the toe of his shoe, he stumbled and fell.
The world spun, his arms pinwheeled, and he desperately tried to catch himself, but it was too late. Tumbling forward, moments before eating the packed earth of the road, a rush of chestnut and white bolted before him. Landing on something much, much softer than dirt, he looked around in confusion and found a pair of lustrous golden eyes gleaming at him.
“Careful,” Gilda snickered, supporting his weight on her back. Carefully pushing him up, making sure he had his footing, she stepped back. “Can’t have you getting too roughed up - that’s gonna be my job,” she giggled, flicking her tail and swatting his behind.
“T...thanks,” Anon sputtered, swallowing hard. The rescue was the straw that broke the camel’s back, adding adrenaline to the cocktail of hormones and ethanol in his veins. “Did I mention I really like assertive girls?”
She blinked, her eyes widening for the briefest of moments, before she fixed him with a heavily lidded gaze. “Big, smooth, and he has good taste. If you’re half as good in bed as I think you are, I might have to keep you.”
Anon’s jaw flapped for a moment, before he pressed onward. While he was a bit embarrassed by the tumble he’d nearly taken, she couldn’t seem to care less about the small blunder. Reaching the entrance of his home, hastily retrieving his keys, he unlocked the door and let himself inside. Though he didn’t know exactly what she had in mind for him, he had little doubt that he’d find out soon enough.
“Not a bad little place,” she murmured, sauntering in after him. Disinterestedly appraising his den, she ultimately nodded towards a hallway leading deeper into the building. “The bedroom down there?”
“Y...yeah,” he stammered, feeling suddenly parched.
Watching her trot towards his chamber, like she owned the place, he trailed along behind her. He couldn’t remember ever meeting someone so domineering before, human or otherwise, yet that did little to quell his mounting excitement - no, if anything, he was more turned on than ever. Seeing her make a sharp left, moving into his room, he gulped.
“Alright, I have to ask,” she clucked, spinning to face him, “you ever been with a griffon?” The man’s cheeks darkened, as he shook his head. “How about a pony?” she pressed.
Seeing him avert his gaze, while fidgeting by the door, a wolfish smile split her beak. To say he felt put on the spot would have been an understatement, causing his pulse to quicken. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t nervous, especially because he was dealing with a girl who knew what she was doing, yet there was no escape - at least, not without looking like a fool and a coward.
Hopping onto the edge of the mattress, patting the patting of the bed, Gilda waved him over with a wing. “How about you come over here and lay down.”
“Shouldn’t I…?” he let the question hang, reaching for his belt buckle.
“Oh no, definitely not,” she tutted. “If I’m the one who’s gonna be breaking you in, I want to unwrap you myself…”
Anon nodded, unable to speak. Numbly crossing to the foot of the bed, he seated himself and slid towards the center of the mattress. Before he could fully get situated, she was upon him. Moving to his right, just beside his hip, she unabashedly reached out and fondled his crotch. Looking to her, stunned by just how forceful she was, he found her face mere inches from his own.
“There’s the look,” she whispered, staring deeply into his widened eyes.
As he went to say something - anything, she shoved him onto his back. Staring up at the ceiling, at a loss, he swiftly discovered just what her scheme entailed. Turning away from him, swinging one hind leg over his head, he was given an absolutely perfect view of her loins. Some part of him was aware of her fiddling with his belt, hearing the clasp come undone, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her nethers.
The general form of her sex was like a human’s, but there were a few differences. The soft fur of her coat thinned near her groin, giving way to the soft, rosy, inviting flesh of her snatch. Judging from just how moist she was, she was definitely as interested in knocking boots as he was. Reaching up, gently caressing her thighs, he drew a contented sigh from her.
“You want a closer look?” she asked, peering over her shoulder at him.
Leaning slightly to the side, sensing the zipper being drawn down his pants, he nodded back at her. He’d assumed she’d been making a lighthearted tease, possibly asking if he’d like to give himself a taste of her, yet she’d had something else in mind - well, in a sense. The second he brought his face closer to her crotch, she gracefully seated herself on him.
His head was driven back, while his face was entombed in the cleft of her ass. Mouth against her snatch, nose pressed to the dark pucker of her backdoor, he’d been woefully unprepared for the lecherous assault - sure, he probably should have expected something of the sort, especially from a female who was clearly on the sexually aggressive side, but being horny and tipsy hadn’t done him any favors. Pinned beneath her rump, as she lazily pulled and tugged at his shorts, he felt his manhood spring free.
“Hmmhmmhmm - Oh yeah, I’m gonna have fun with you,” she chuckled, wrapping her fingers around the base of his length. Squeezing his rigid tool, she cheerfully wiggled her hips. “How about you get to work back there…”
Overwhelmed in every possible way, Anon’s mind raced. The musky scent of her tush mingled with the exotic, piquant fragrance of her arousal, he was quite literally blinded by her behind, her domineering voice rang in his ears, and the heat of her body warmed his chest; the onslaught on his senses left him feeling weak, but not weak enough to be completely helpless. Holding her upper legs, he opened his mouth, steeled his resolve, and dove in.
Lapping at her sex, like a ravenous, obedient mongrel, strange and unfamiliar flavors washed over his taste buds. Salty, sour, and with the slightest tinge of sweetness, her feminine juices were far from unpleasant. As he drew his tongue over her sex, teasing her entrance, something hot glided up his cock. Though he couldn’t see what she was doing, he had little doubt that she was helping herself to a taste of him.
The sensation of something hard and pointed pressing against the sensitive skin of his dick caused him to flinch, bringing his ministrations to a screeching halt. It was only at that moment that he remembered his guest lacked lips - instead having a sharp, keratinous beak. The dangerous element was paradoxically stimulating, inspiring him to set upon her with renewed vigor.
Be damned if he knew how she was doing such a good job getting him off, but she knew exactly what she was doing. She was, as he was quickly finding out, a creature of contrasts. Her unassuming and adorable appearance belied a deliciously amorous and strong willed creature. The contrast of her talons and beak, each undoubtedly able to do some serious damage, against the delicate touch of her digits and tongue was mind boggling - in sort, she was a stone cold minx, even if she didn’t look like one.
Eating her out, while she licked and stroked his manhood, he felt himself emboldened. The baser parts of his mind, fueling his primal need to breed, outstripped his logic and reluctance. Drawing his tongue through her sex and over her taint, he gave her pucker a bit of attention; if it was going to be a night of firsts, he saw no harm in checking several boxes off his bucket list.
He’s seen rimming done in porn before, and heard about it from a few friends, but the griffon’s ass was the first he’d ever eaten. To his amazement, licking and lavishing her winking backdoor, the experience was extraordinarily arousing. The flavor was a bit more earthy and less citrusy than her puss, but it was far from unpleasant - that being said, considering he had a lusty bird-cat playing with his dick, eating her out wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
Performing a sixty nine while sober was tricky enough, but pulling off the maneuver after having a few drinks proved enormously difficult. While he couldn’t speak for her, he found the balancing act difficult; a part of him wanted to do little more than enjoy the oral, yet he’d be remiss for not trying to pleasure her. Humming into her cunt, focusing on her clit, he heard her groan.
“Hey - you got any beak-guards?” she asked, stopping dead.
Pushing her ass away, giving himself a chance to reply and get some fresh air, he tilted his head. “Beak-whats?”
Unceremoniously unseating herself, leaving her juices smeared on the man’s face, she stood and turned to face him. “I’m gonna assume that’s a no,” she huffed, glancing to his nightstand and dresser. He shrugged, prompting her to sigh and shake her head. “They’re just what they sound like - soft plastic guards that let griffons or hippogriffs get someone off without needing to worry about their beak doing any damage.”
“Huh,” Anon grunted. He shouldn’t have been too surprised by the notion, since it was perfectly logical, but it was the first he’d ever heard of such a thing. Forcing a small grin, cursing his lack of preparedness, he shot her a wink. “Next time, I’ll have some on hand.”
Before she could say anything, he launched forward and clapped her ass. It was a bold, possibly stupid move, but he couldn’t help himself; as assertive as she’d been, teasing and taunting him since they’d met, he felt entitled to a bit of fun. Blindsided by the lighthearted spank, squeaking in surprise, the predatory smirk she’d had reappeared.
“Well then, aren’t we the naughty one,” she purred. Wheeling fully around, walking two fingers up his chest, she rested a claw on his throat. “But here’s the big question,” she continued, stepping over and straddling his waist, “how should I punch that interspecies v-card you’ve been holding…”
“I…” Anon fell silent, as she lowered herself onto his dick.
Rocking her hips forward and back, sandwiching his manhood between herself and his abdomen, she stroked herself on him. The sublime heat and juiciness of her loins, pared with her arrogant expression, made one thing abundantly clear - she was dead serious. Settling onto her knees, she leaned forward and brought her beak to the side of his head.
“Since you’re taking so long to figure it out,” she whispered, breathing hotly in his ear, “I guess I’ll have to choose for you.”
Still uncertain of what she’d meant, he quickly got his answer. As the tip of his length kissed her pucker, she bore down against him. Never in a hundred years would he have expected her to try anal without the assistance of any lube, yet she doggedly worked him into her ass regardless. With only the slathering of saliva he’d administered, plus the pre-cum leaking from his painfully erect, she slowly impaled herself.
It couldn’t have been easy for her, a fact marked by the barest wince she bore, but she was undeterred. Inch after inch of his manhood sank into her ass, until she was resting on his lap. Speechless, in awe of the somewhat masochistic achievement, he looked to his left. Though the lotion on his nightstand wasn’t meant for such dubious applications, it was better than nothing.
Thinking fast, he braced his legs, reached over, and grabbed the bottle. “This should help,” he muttered, depositing a dollop into his palm. “Let me just…”
The words died in his throat, as she leaned back and rested her hands on his knees. The sight of her on him, with his dick buried in her ass, was easily one of the hottest things he’d ever seen. Her mug aura was only eclipsed by the unfettered view of her belly, replete with a sextet of nipples, and succulent cunt. Amused with his awestruck reaction, she snickered above him.
“You gonna sit there with your mouth hanging open or are you gonna rut this hen,” she cooed, reaching down and spreading her meaty lower lips for him.
“That’s so fucking hot,” he reverently commented, unable to look away from the lewd display.
Lifting her waist, unsheathing the base of his tool, she allowed him to administer the lotion on himself. Nodding, Anon swiftly slathered his exposed shaft with the slick substance. The significance of his moment, having breached the cross-species boundary, meant next to nothing, in the face of satisfying himself and his fowl. With the job complete, he cradled her rump in his hands and guided her back down.
With the boundary breached, and little else to say, the pair began moving in concert. The griffon lifted herself, constricting her taut hole around his length, before she gradually descended. Slow to start, allowing him to savor the moment, she closed her eyes. Though she clearly had the skill and determination to handle herself, leaving the man’s hands free, Anon did what he could to elevate the experience for each of them.
Sweetly rubbing her thighs and abdomen, lovingly pinching and teasing her teats, he bucked up to meet her descents. He found himself immeasurably thankful that she was in no rush, so he could drink her in and enjoy himself. He wasn’t sure what he was more smitten with, the fact that he was having sex with something distinctly inhuman or that it was his first time trying anal - in truth, both were equally wondrous, but it was the former which had him spellbound.
Her scent lingered in his sinuses, her heat seeped into him, and the soft, downy fur against his skin was amazing. He dare say that she was better than any human woman, although that may have been the booze speaking. The look of flagrant lust on her face was priceless, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the image of her riding him haunted him for months to come - still, of all the sinful pleasures she delivered, he was genuinely impressed with her ass.
With little more than an indomitable will, spit, and a bit of lotion, she’d taken to riding him like a seasoned cowgirl. He would have been amazed with the move from anyone, but her mention of him being well endowed made her all the more extraordinary. Regardless of whether she was a masochist, relished conquering partners in the bedroom, simply loved having her ass stuffed, or some combination of the three, she’d taken him like a champ.
Bit by bit, little by little, she increased her speed. Situated as she was, with her back slightly arched, Anon was given unfettered access to her loins. Though she hadn’t asked for any assistance, further cementing her domineering streak, he felt compelled. Bringing his palm to her inner thigh, he massaged her sex.
“Oh fuck,” she hissed, her motions faltering. The momentary lapse lasted only the blink of an eye, before she regained her composure. Plowing herself on him, hungrily constricting around his cock, she glared down at him. “Don’t stop…”
He’d had no intention of stopping, but the demanding, almost threatening tone in her voice reminded him that she was in control. Playing with her teats, while he kneaded her clit, he thrust up into her. Like some depraved juggling act, he attempted to get her off and sate himself. Throughout it all, growing closer and closer to his release, he prayed she’d find him worthy prey.
While they’d each started off relatively quiet, they didn’t stay that way for long. Gilda’s soft, pleased hums evolved into groans and whimpers of bliss, while Anon grunted and breathed heavily beneath her. Like a machine gaining momentum, the rhythmic Plap Plap Plap of their colliding bodies increased in pace, adding a drumbeat to the air.
Time gradually lost meaning, as his urges wrestled control of his body. His fingers were a blur, playing with her breasts and furiously stroking her clit, as he became desperate. Unsure of how long they’d been going at it, the telltale signs of release caused him to set his jaw. Forcing his body to obey, staving off the inevitable, he held himself back - that was, until something miraculous happened.
Gilda trembled above him, her thighs quivering heavily, as the pitch of her mewling raised several octaves. Howling out, the tempo of her bouncing waist came to a screeching halt. The griffon hilted herself, crashing on his waist, as a torrent of feminine juices erupted from her snatch. Anon blinked for a split second, processing what had just happened, and took control.
Her climax was like a gleaming beacon, reassuring Anon of his carnal worth and sending his passion into a roaring inferno. Abandoning her breasts and sex, seizing hold of her hips, he jackhammered her ass like a beast possessed. Finally free to do as he pleased, having gotten her off, he soared towards release.
Seconds passed in a flash, as he reached his limit, but there was something nagging at him. Of all the things they’d done, leading to and throughout the sublime fucking, there was one relatively simple thing they hadn’t done - kiss. Keeping one hand on her waist, he reached up, grabbed her back, and pulled her torso forward.
Her eyes snapped open, as he drew her in, but it was too late. As she opened her beak, he kissed her, hilted, and unloaded what felt like the biggest load of his entire life. Making out with her, while his essence filled her depths, the gates of nirvana opened for him. A tsunami of ecstasy overwhelmed his senses, as he held her close.
Seconds passed into minutes, and longer still, as the pair quietly kissed. The rapture of their climaxes was gradually replaced by the warmth and euphoria of the deed, yet they didn’t part - at least, not until Anon felt spunk leaking from around his softening manhood. Pulling away, brushing a feather from her face, he smiled dreamily.
“That earn me a night in your bed?” she sighed, pressing her cheek to his chest.
“Yeah, I think you could say that,” he croaked, running a hand over her back. “If you want to hop in the shower, I’ll change the sheets,” he added. They were both in need of washing up, and the linens needed changing, but that was unavoidable. “Just don’t use up all the hot -”
“Is your shower big enough for two?” she interrupted, lifting her head to look him in the face.
“Yeah, it is. You wanna wash up together?” he asked.
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t, dweeb,” she snickered. Plastering herself against him, content to draw out the moment, she closed her eyes. “I’ll help you change the bed sheets once we’re done - that is, if you tell me where your laundry machine is.”
Anon nodded, suddenly reluctant to leave the bed. “Only if we can cuddle once we’re done with everything.”
The lighthearted demand didn’t fall on deaf ears, prompting her to quirk a brow up at him. “It’s a deal, but you’re responsible for the consequences.”
“Consequences?” he parroted.
“I do come to Ponyville pretty frequently,” she explained, rubbing his side. “But since I’ve got somewhere I can stay now, don’t be shocked if I show up from time to time…”
There were a thousand things Anon could have said, and a thousand more he could have done, yet he didn’t budge. Holding her, basking in her warmth, he stared up at the ceiling. Throughout the entirety of his life, having seen and experienced all sorts of strange, unimaginable things, he’d just set the bar for himself. He’d befriended an amorous avian, invited her into his home, and bedded her, all over the course of a single evening; those would have been odd enough, but the most perplexing thing was that he was already looking forward to seeing her again...
