Pinkie Pie awoke with a fire between her legs. Not literally, of course. On the list of Totally Not Fun Things, spontaneous crotch fires were pretty close to the top.
No, this particular fire was considerably more fun. She did feel kinda bad for the griffon who did the laundry for Griffonstone Inn, though, because boy were they in for a nasty surprise in the morning. She reached a hoof between her legs and then withdrew it, watching as the moonlight glimmered in the juices now coating her limb.
“Yep,” she whispered. “No doubt about it. I’m one horny pony.” She idly tapped the damp hoof against her chin. “I wonder what got me so riled up.”
The answer came to her quickly enough.
“Oh yeah, the dream!”
She let out a gigglesnort at being such a silly-Pinkie, and then winced, glancing over at the other bed in the hotel room, hoping that she hadn’t woken…
“Dashie?” she asked, sitting upright.
The other bed was empty.
“Huh, wonder where she got off to.”
With a shrug, she lay back down, her thoughts turning back to her dream. The sexy, sexy dream. Just thinking about it made her tingle in all kinds of fun places. Memories of it danced through her mind, all of them featuring the same guest star.
Greta.
Pinkie had never really thought of griffons that way before, but there were no two ways about it: Greta was one hot piece of bird-lion. Those sleek, powerful wings. Those sharp talons, carrying with them the thrill of danger. The way that scarf hugged her neck. Those green feathers around her eyes.
Are they naturally green, or does she dye them? she thought. I guess it doesn’t really matter, but they sure made her look cute.
As she thought about the griffon, Pinkie’s hoof made its way back between her legs and came into contact with her sopping slit. She began rubbing herself in circular motions, letting out happy little hums as she pleasured herself, suddenly glad that Rainbow had made herself scarce. As she masturbated, she tried to reconstruct her dream, letting sexy little scenarios of Greta and herself engaging in a good ol' fashioned bout of interspecies coitus play through her pleasure-fogged brain.
“I wonder what sex with a griffon would actually be like?” she said idly, not stopping her hoof’s motions.
It was a shame that she and Rainbow would be taking the train back to Ponyville in the morning. Being in a griffon town, Pinkie knew she probably wouldn’t get a better chance to experiment a little. Of course, it’s not like she could just walk up a griffon and say, “Hey, let’s bang!” For one thing, it was late, and most griffons would be asleep in their nests. For another, most of the griffons they'd come across didn't seem particularly friendly, much less receptive to spontaneous sexual shenanigans.
If only there were some other way…
Suddenly, her hoof stopped.
Pinkie smiled.
Pinkie poked her head around the corner of a building. There, across the square, stood her objective: the statue of King Grover, moonlight reflecting off his stone surface. Looking left and right and finding nogriffon in sight, Pinkie crept over to the statue and looked up at it.
“Hey there, you old charmer,” she purred. “Bet you didn’t expect to see me again, huh?”
The statue remained silent.
“Our train got delayed, so we had to stay here for the night. I thought I’d stop by so that we could get… better acquainted, if you catch my drift.” In case there was any confusion, she waggled her eyebrows at the statue for good measure.
It didn’t seem particularly impressed.
With one final glance at her surroundings, Pinkie shimmied up the statue, taking a seat on its raised arm. Reaching out with a hoof, she stroked its cold cheek and looked into its empty eye sockets.
“Would you care to show a mare a good time, handsome?”
The statue seemed ambivalent.
With a naughty grin, Pinkie swung one of her hind legs to the other side of its arm, straddling it, and began rocking her hips, slowly grinding her marehood against the statue. The stone was cold at first, and a little rough to the touch, but Pinkie had been expecting that. She’d grown up on a rock farm, after all, and had plenty of experience with this sort of thing. In no time at all, the sheer heat radiating off her nethers began warming the stone, and her juices served as a natural lubricant, the occasional stray drop rolling around the arm and dripping from its underside.
“I can't believe I never realized how totally amazing you griffons are,” Pinkie said, her breathing getting heavier. “You're so big. So strong. So… dangerous. The idea of having a roll in the hay with one of you is kinda neat. Like... predator and prey putting aside their differences to have some fun. It makes me feel all tingly inside.”
She closed her eyes as she continued to rub herself against the statue. Within Pinkie's inordinately vivid imagination, it was no longer a statue, but a living creature of flesh and blood. The very idea sent happy shivers up and down her spine, and she bit her lip to keep from moaning out loud.
It didn’t take long, however, for her to realize that she wouldn’t be able to get her rocks off unless she took things up a notch.
‘Get her rocks off’, she thought with a giggle. That’s a good one.
Amusing or not, though, it was a valid point. If she wanted to achieve climax, she’d need something that reached a little deeper than the stone arm. She searched the statue for something suitable. She briefly considered trying one of the statue’s stone talons, but quickly dismissed it. They looked awfully sharp, and the last thing she needed was to get a scratch… there.
Finally, she found the perfect choice.
Climbing further up the statue, she sat on its face and lowered her winking sex to King Grover’s beak. It was narrower than the arm, allowing it to work more deeply into her folds and hit her sweet spot.
She resumed her grinding, warming and lubricating her new location in seconds. Wrapping her arms around the statue’s head, she began humping away at the beak, imagining that it belonged to Greta. As the mental scenarios became kinkier and kinkier, Pinkie’s hips thrusted more quickly, wet noises joining the sound of her panting breaths. Her tongue was lolling out of her mouth now, and she closed her eyes as pleasure assaulted her nervous system like an electrical discharge.
“Oooooh yeah,” she moaned, her juices trickling down the statue’s beak. “That’s right, Greta. Drink it up, you dirty, sexy griffon, you. I know you crave the taste of pony.”
Pinkie was getting close now, a warm pressure building in her lower belly. She arched her back a little, working her clit more firmly into the wet stone. She whimpered, her hips moving so quickly now that they nearly formed a blur.
“Yes!” she gasped. “Yes, Greta! Yes! Yes! Y—”
“What in the hay?!” cracked a familiar voice.
Pinkie’s eyes flew open, and she turned her head. From her position atop the statue’s head, she could see right into one of the griffon homes. And there, on a bed of straw, lay Rainbow Dash and Gilda, their sweaty bodies intertwined, looking back at her with wide eyes and blushing faces.
“Dashie?” she asked.
And then, quite suddenly, Pinkie came. She squealed, squeezing the statue's head with all four legs and gritting her teeth as her orgasm ripped through her. She could feel her quivering pussy spray all over the statue’s face, but she was too consumed by pleasure to care a whole lot. After a prolonged, blissful moment, the orgasm passed, and Pinkie fell limp across the head of the statue, panting heavily.
She looked in at Rainbow and Gilda, having the good grace to look embarrassed as her body continued to twitch.
They stared right back at her with wide eyes.
“Small world, huh?” Pinkie asked.
“Uh… y-yeah,” Rainbow stammered, fidgeting atop her lover's larger body. “I guess so.”
An awkward silence passed between the three of them.
"Room for one more?" Pinkie suggested.
Rainbow looked irritated at first, but then caught herself. After thinking it over, looked down at Gilda, raising her eyebrows as if to say, 'You game?'
Gilda frowned at Rainbow, shaking her head.
Rainbow leaned closer and whispered something to her, making some rather acrobatic gestures with her hooves as she spoke.
Gilda looked back at Pinkie, seeming impressed. Then, she shivered. Looking back at Rainbow, she shook her head again.
Rainbow sighed. "Sorry, Pinks. That's a no-go."
"Oh well," Pinkie said with a sigh. "Worth a shot, amirite?"
Both Rainbow and Gilda had to agree with that.
"Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Never speak of this again?"
"Never speak of this again," both of them parroted.
With a nod, Pinkie climbed down from the statue, leaving Rainbow and Gilda to their... activities. With one final wink at the cum-splattered statue, she began making her way back to the inn, leaving a trail of droplets on the path as she went.
Author's Note
Don't look at me like that. You saw the way she looked at / talked to that statue in the episode. Frankly, I'm surprised no one else has written this yet.
