"Make yourself at home, dweeb,” the griffon said to you, a little crankily as you stepped inside her cozy little house in the middle of some unknown suburb. In all honesty, being unfamiliar with griffon society, you had almost been expecting to be taken back to some kind of nest, hidden way up high in a tree. You were definitely thankful that hadn’t been the case. That would have made for a ridiculously precarious visit.
All in all, it turned out that griffons knew how to throw a proper party. This hadn’t been some namby pamby pretty pink pony party, the kind where you’d sit in little circles and drink tea and eat cake. This was a real party, where griffons gathered into one huge room, cranked the speakers up until the very walls themselves vibrated and all rocked out into the early hours of the morning. There had been drinking, laughing and moshpits aplenty. For you, a definite highlight had been when one griffon with an ebony feathered fringe had tried to sneak onto the stage and replace the music with dubstep. Everybody had kicked the shit out of him as he screamed “Fuck you” over and over again. You had laughed.
But since all good things had to come to an end, the crowd had finally begun to disperse, downing their last drink and wobbly flying off home before Celestia could finally get her big, fat ass into gear and raise the sun.
Given your pretty blatant lack of wings, you were forced to simply wait behind as you idly pass the time until your pegasi taxi service could arrive. You wandered the building and chatted with a couple of now-familiar faces. Eventually you leant back against a wall and kept a watchful eye on all of the other griffon stragglers, the ones too drunk to take off without colliding with something they were sure wasn’t there five seconds ago; the ones who stayed behind to make sure those aforementioned griffons would stop colliding with things that were quite obviously there five seconds ago; and the ones who stayed behind to laugh and occasionally raise obstacles into the air five seconds before the drunk griffons could collide with them.
You stood alone as the sky began to pale and a red glint winked its way over the horizon. That was until the griffon who introduced herself as Gilda had sidled up to you. Her slightly-less-than beefy frame caught your eye and the two of you had begun to make idle conversation. You hit it off fairly well and before you knew it she was flying you back to her place.
You followed her through the doorframe into her humble abode, your eyes guiltily following the sway of her hips, drinking in each individual (yet all equally gorgeous) sway of her undeniably plump, furry backside.
There was a thickness to her that couldn’t be denied, evident from the slight bulge in her stomach, her moderately bulkier-than-expected ankles and the thunder thighs that trailed up to the jaw-dropping amounts of junk stashed away in her trunk. She wasn’t exactly fat, you decided, but she definitely seems to have been letting herself go over the past couple of months. Maybe. Not that there was anything to complain about, of course. The added bulk only brought emphasis to that delicious rump she carries with her. Her tail swished back and forth across each golden brown cheek, as though directing your eyes for where best to look. You find the choice difficult so settle on all of it at the same time.
Suddenly she looks up and catches you mid-stare. You avert your eyes and pretend you had been examining her wings.
“Why don’t you take a picture, dweeb? It’ll last longer,” she snaps.
Oh, if only you could, you think to yourself. Your eyes flit back down to her rump and you’re overcome with the urge to touch it, if only for the briefest second. You could brush your hand against it or gesture grandly and hit it by accident. Just anything that’ll result in contact with that brilliant booty.
“Why don’t you lighten up? With that attitude, anyone would think it’s been months since you last came,” you chuckle, winking cheekily. At the same time, before you can even think to stop yourself, you reach out and ‘jokingly’ slap her flank, your fingers resting on her warm fur longer than you’d intended. She chirps and the two of you stand for a moment in surprised silence, both shocked at your sudden confidence.
Gilda tenses and for a second you could almost swear that you were about to be on the receiving end of those viciously sharp talons. Just as you start planning the best escape route (Smashing her beak in with a chair and diving out the window) a low humming noise reverberating from her throat takes you by complete surprise. She’s purring.
“You’re purring,” you say, your brow rising high into your fringe.
“Shut up,” she snaps, as much to you as to her own treacherous impulses. Her tail has begun whipping around wildly from her discomfort and she tries to prevent any further access to her ass by quickly sitting it down on the floor. Unfortunately for her, her ass falls straight onto your shoe, drawing a gargle of discomfort from her throat as it slides directly between her cheeks.
“What’s wrong? You like being spanked?” you jeer, beginning to rub your foot back and forth. Your toes slide against her pussy, teasing her lips with malice. She thrashes her tail and tries to prevent herself from showing any response, but her purring has already intensified, far more audibly than before. She’s putting up a valiant effort to avoid appearing aroused but it’s too late for any of that. You know her secret and that she only wants more.
“What’s your problem, jackass?” Gilda suddenly cries, finally relenting and jumping up to her paws. The feathers lining her face have dyed themselves a deep pink, which she unsuccessfully tries to distract you from by adjusting her fringe. “What, you’re just gonna spank anyone’s ass now? You’re some filthy pervert who touches griffons up?”
You respond with a more powerful and aggressive swing to her ass, your palm slapping against her plump rear with an audible thwack. You watch, entranced as her cheeks wobble from the impact for a few seconds, rippling like disturbed water. In response she lets out a hiss of either pain or pleasure, though you suspect the latter given she’s still purring and you’re still in one piece. “So you want me to stop then?”
She looks back at you, her face contorted in an expression of frustration. She clearly wants it; she just doesn’t have the confidence to say yes. So being the noble, chivalrous human you are, you give her what she wants. Your other hand falls against her other cheek now, the palm sinking into that warm, soft fuzz. Swing follows swing and you begin alternating, at times spanking her ass with one hand, occasionally the other and sometimes both. Each time she sinks her head lower and lower to the ground and begins groaning from the sensation of your erotic abuse. Finally you stop and regard her now slightly reddened, furry backside.
“Is that it, dweeb? You happy now?” she asks, keeping her eyes tightly shut and her face on the ground. A wry grin crosses your face as you hear the twinge of disappointment laced into her words, and you decide to honour her unspoken request by smacking her ass one more time, the ensuing sound like that of a thunderclap.
She gasps aloud but her groan quickly turns into a squawk as you throw your face forward and dive into the thick crevice between her cheeks. You smother your face into her awaiting ass, hooking one arm around her legs and the other tightly gripping her flank. The smell of her musk caresses your nostrils and your erection is now screaming in protest of the bindings your clothes provide. In response you unbuckle your belt and let your trousers and underwear slide down to your knees.
The warmth drawn from having both cushiony, soft asscheeks pressed on either side of you is almost therapeutic, the felt fur tickling your face. You splay your tongue out and begin to slide it along her taint, the tastes of her already leaking juices filling your mouth. Her soft groans reach your ears, the sweet noise just like the songs of the seraphim.
Finally, you can hold back no longer and you find yourself forced to jump up to your feet. A squawk of disappointment follows closely behind and Gilda stares back at you, clearly appalled by the possibility that you’d quit so soon. You quickly turn her disapproval into arousal once more, however, as soon as you begin to tease the lips of her pussy with your thick, wanting cock.
“Oh fuck,” she moans, “please don’t fucking tease me, dweeb.” She closes her eyes and you’re sure that if she had a lip, she’d be biting it right about now. Beaks don’t make for particularly great expressiveness but the blatant lust in her eyes alone is all that you need to propel you forwards. But still, you take the opportunity to tease her a little bit.
You rub the head of your cock across the insides of her thighs and against each individual cheek. She murrs and moans but still you fail to relent, endlessly teasing her with the object of her desire. You’re having so much fun with this that you might even carry on all day if it weren’t for her making use of some tricks of her own.
What you didn’t expect was her long, thin tail to slink around and tease your groin, it’s thick and fluffy end brushing the base of your member. You almost recoil at the sensation but she then begins to coil it around your shaft, the feel like that of a lover’s touch. You close your eyes and embrace the erotic, tickling feeling as she caresses you with her tail, that beautiful furry tip teasing the top of your hungry member.
And just as quickly as she began, she pulls her tail away, leaving you with no choice. Driven solely by desire, you force your way into her tight snatch.
You both groan as one in satisfaction as you slide your member deep within her, the walls of her pussy pressing tightly down on your member. Just as you finally manage to fit the entirety of your manhood deep within her, you pull back and thrust your hips in again, pumping her in increasingly rapid motions. For her part, Gilda seems to be over the moon with the sensation. You have little to no idea how the average male griffon’s genitalia compare with your moderate length but you can gather that the difference doesn’t seem to be too important as your efforts are proving themselves more than satisfactory as it is.
As you thrust back and forth into her, your hips clap noisily onto her oversized, furry backside, filling the room with the sound of the meaty slaps pounding against each other, overlaid with Gilda’s constant moaning and your heavy breathing. You find the experience overwhelming and, lost in the ecstasy, you can think of nothing better to do than to spank her once again, even as you ride her. She growls in satisfaction, a noise that’s more encouragement than necessary for you to repeat the action yet again.
“Oh shit,” she suddenly cries, “I’m going to…to…” You grip Gilda’s flank tightly and brace yourself, feeling her body tense at exactly the same time. The walls of her pussy tighten around your cock and she begins to convulse, spreading her golden wings far across the room and letting out the occasional uncontrollable squawk as she orgasms as noisily as you swear she can manage.
The sensation sends you over the edge and you have to lean over as far into the back of her head as you can to balance yourself, your fingers digging deeply into the cheeks of her gorgeously malleable ass. With a final thrust, your cock feels like it’s exploding, sending torrent and torrent of cum into her hungry pussy. You grunt with each wave, each noise lost under the cries of the griffon underneath you.
Finally, just as you begin to wonder if you would ever stop cumming inside of Gilda, you eventually empty yourself into her and collapse to the floor, dry and spent. She flops down with you, landing with a soft flump, her chest heaving.
Beads of sweat drip their way down your forehead and you suddenly look up to see the exhausted griffon slowly walking towards you. “Thank you,” she says.
“Thank you,” you say in return. “That was fantastic.”
“Maybe next time if you ask nicely I might just treat you to oral,” she teases, nuzzling her feathers into your face.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” you reply, though a little noncommittally. With a beak like hers? Fuck that.
