If the tent is a rockin'...
I wasn't sure if I was in Tennessee, North Carolina, or Virginia. My GPS could have told me, but I didn't really care. Half the point of backcountry hiking was to get just a little lost. For that matter, I wasn't lost-lost; I knew how to find the Appalachian Trail again, three miles west of me.
But I was enjoying the solitude of that isolated Blue Ridge glen. A frigid stream ran down off the upper mountains. Standing in a deep trout pool in the stream, I washed off a week of grime with the clear mountain water and a bar of soap. I smelled pretty ripe, given the August heat down in the valleys, and the soap and scrubbing let me feel human again. I put a small squirt of shampoo into my hair and scrubbed out the sweat, making what seemed to be the biggest difference of all.
After I finished cleaning myself, I laid down flat on a towel I'd spread on a boulder, letting the sun dry and warm me. This glen faced south, so I'd get a solid hour or two of noontime-sunlight before the shadows of the ridges to the west fell on me. My hiking clothes—cotton shirt, heavy trousers, sports bra, thick socks, and such—I'd already hand-scrubbed and laid out to dry in the sun on another boulder. My boots were airing out above the waterline, too.
There was something wonderfully naughty about lying stretched out naked, like a cat in the sun, even if I knew there probably wasn't another human being any closer than the Trail several miles away.
I spread my legs a little and pointed my underside at the sun. I wouldn't stay like that for long—no one wants sunburn on their snatch—but I'd gotten a full brazilian before starting my two-week hike down the Appalachian Trail, and letting the sun heat the part of my body where sun never shined just added to the naughtiness.
Wearing nothing but a pair of sunglasses, I lazed in the sun for who-knew-how-long as the mountain water dried off me. I heard a hawk or eagle screeching somewhere in the blue sky above me. Which made sense: the Blue Ridge were some of the most primeval wilderness this side of Alaska.
Maybe I was asleep, or close to it, when something hit the trout pool like a meteor dropping from orbit. By the power of my butt cheeks' clenching alone, I got about five vertical feet of air, my arms windmilling, and landed with my bare feet in the grass between my napping boulder and the stream—
—just in time for a massive blast of water to soak me, my sunbathing towel, my boots, and my clothes set out to dry in the sun.
I yanked off my sunglasses. What, I say, what had hit that pool? An engine falling off a jetliner? I looked up, expecting to see a ball of flame at the apex of a contrail. I was under the Atlanta-Detroit and DC-Texas flight corridors, after all. The sky was criss-crossed with contrails and glinting reflections of aluminum, but no smoke or flames.
A white shape surged out of the pool, water flying off large wings and it flapped heavily into the air and landed on another boulder about fifteen feet downstream of me.
My first thought was, pegasus! I knew one Equestrian personally, a unicorn, and had seen plenty of others on TV or the internet since the whole portal-thing.
But... this wasn't a pegasus. I wasn't sure what it was, but not that.
It noticed me and we made eye contact. It had a massive rainbow trout in each hand, huge dagger-like talons sunk into the fish's sides, and a third trout in its beak.
In its hands. In its beak. I realized I might be dealing with a griffon.
It grabbed the trout from its beak, holding it with the fish already in its left hand, and said in a masculine voice, "Trout? I've got plenty to share. Sorry for disturbing you, I had assumed a pool this isolated would be deserted."
Something in his voice, in my realization that I was face to face with a male, sent a shiver up my spine. I was buck naked. I shook water off my sunglasses and put them back on. I hadn't been naked in front of a man other than ~~my husband~~ my idiot ex-husband in fifteen years! "It's a little early for dinner," I called back. "Excuse me a second?"
Raising my head and forcing myself to walk calmly and slowly, I slipped into my tent and pulled on a pair of sweat shorts and a t-shirt from my small stash of reserve clothes.
Inside the tent, I frowned in his general direction. Hopefully now that he'd caught his fish, he would fly off and leave me alone. This whole trip down the Appalachian Trail was meant to be alone time, me-time, now that the divorce was final and Richard and his parents had taken our kids to Southern California for a few weeks to see Mickey Mouse and Seaworld.
I stepped out of the tent. He was still sitting on the boulder, holding the remains of one trout in both of his hands. He'd apparently filleted it and gulped down the meat just that quickly, and as I emerged from my tent he tossed the bones, head, guts, and skin into the water, to be carried downstream by the current, circle of life, etc., etc.
The other two trout flopped limply on the ground away from the water. I watched him as he leaned down and scrubbed his hands together in the flowing stream. His torso was about the same size as mine, but heavy wings tucked tight to his flanks. He didn't have the bright symbol on his hip like the ponies I'd seen, and I wondered how old he was. His off-white coat and feathers were blinding in the high-altitude sun, so I dried my sunglasses on my shirt tail and put them back on. His feathery mane and tail were a soft teal color.
Next, he lowered his face to the stream, lapping with a long tongue, beak just touching the water surface.
"So," I said, "you're fishing?"
"Sorry," he said, wiping his beak with a forearm. "I was really thirsty. Name's Terramar."
"Erica."
"I was doing the Appalachian Trail" —he pointed a thumb-claw in the direction I had hiked that morning— "and got hungry. I got some altitude and saw this clearing. I noticed the fish but missed your tent. I'm sorry I soaked you."
I looked at my clothes. The sun was already drying them pretty well. "It's okay. Legitimate accident."
He turned around, stalking on all fours to move from the stream bank to sit on his boulder again. Muscles flexed and rolled under his silky coat, especially in those arms—forelegs? The talons on his claws glinted in the sunlight.
"Hey," I said. "I just noticed, your back legs have hooves, not paws. You're, a, uh... not a griffon?"
"Oh!" he said, with a little blush. "Yeah, I'm probably one of the very first of us to visit Earth. I'm taking the summer off between school and college."
"A gap year, huh? I wish I'd done that."
He sat facing me, hands flat on the boulder, between his open thighs, and I noticed that he had tremendously huge—
No, I told myself, don't think like that. No butt symbol. 'Cutie mark!' That's what Banana Fluff called it, showing us pictures of her son on her phone in the work breakroom when the little one had gotten his. No cutie mark. Don't look at his balls. Even if they were the size of oranges.
"I'm a hippogriff," he said. "Easily confused for a pony or a griffon."
I nodded, as if I understood what that meant. "It's exciting that you're the, uh, first of your kind on Earth?"
He blushed slightly and looked down at the trout, which had almost stopped flopping. "Do you like fish? We should get the campfire going before the storm front gets here if you want trout."
"Storm front?" I asked.
He pointed his beak vaguely west. "I'm not a pegasus, but I can smell that front. About four hours. Probably tornadoes and hail down in the valley, but here we'll just get rain, lightning, and wind."
I looked in the direction he pointed, but all I could see was a ridgeline covered in mixed hardwoods and conifers. A red cardinal high in a tree made its sharp cheer cheer cheer call at me. "Really?"
"Well, probably. A pegasus could tell you to the minute. Plus or minus an hour is the best a hippogriff can do."
With a shrug, I said, "Yeah, some fresh food will be a nice change. I've been on the trail a week, eating nothing but dehydrated. What about you?"
"I picked up the trail yesterday, near Chattanooga," he said. "I've been catching fish as I go."
My eyes widened. "You crossed all of Tennessee in a single day?"
"I mostly flew," he said, flexing his wings. "I only walked a few sections."
I blinked. Flying the Appalachian Trail? Well, why not? If the decade since First Contact had taught humanity anything, it was that there were quite a few different ways to be a person.
I had gathered firewood and made a stone circle earlier, before I bathed in the stream, so it was just a matter of arranging the sticks and hitting some kindling with my lighter.
He filleted the two other trout with one of his talons, far more quickly and expertly than I could have with a sharp knife. I grabbed the cast iron skillet from my kit and drizzled it with some of the oil from my cooking supplies. He tossed the fillets in some of my salt and black pepper and I put everything on the campfire.
As the fish sizzled and its smell began to tickle my nose and make my stomach growl, I looked westward and, yeah, now I could see the first cirrus outriders of the storm he was predicting.
"What's your deal, Erica?" Terramar said. "Northbound?"
"South, actually," I replied. "I have a plane ticket out of Knoxville in a week. You?"
"I've got... a thing... in Washington, DC, Thursday afternoon. Biltmore House tomorrow—lots of stairs, my sister wants me to take pictures—and I figure I can make it to Harrisburg by Wednesday, spend a night in a hotel, and then fly to DC."
"Are there direct flights from Harrisburg to Washington?" I asked.
He snorted and flared his wings. "All my flights are direct."
"Oh," I said. "What's in DC?"
He blushed, looked away, and mumbled, then reached into my cooking kit, grabbed a thin spatula, and flipped the fillets, which were nicely browned on one side. "You hiked the trail before?"
A thin grin formed on my lips. He really didn't want to answer questions about himself, did he? "Never more than a day hike before," I said. "I had some... stuff... happen in my personal life, so I'm taking a few weeks to myself to get my feet back under me, so to speak."
Terramar looked at my legs and blinked. "Oh! That's an idiom. You mean 'catch the wind under your wings again,' except you don't have wings. I see."
I stretched my legs out, leaning back, and reclined on my elbows. "Yeah."
The feathers on his wings ruffled as I stretched out my legs.
"Gap year, you said? You're going to college? Where at?"
He poked the fillets with the spatula again. "Harvard."
That got my attention. "Really?" I'd gone to George Mason. Respectable, but several tranches down.
"I wanted to go to MIT, or to Royal University Canterlot, but my aunt needed me to study International Relations." He sighed. "Harvard seemed the best choice there."
"What's your aunt got to do with it?"
His eyes flicked from the skillet to my legs, then back to the skillet. I noticed that his underside seemed to be getting a little bigger. I wasn't any sort of horse—or bird-horse—expert, but I knew that ponies kept their weapons in a sheath when they weren't using them, and assumed hippogriffs were the same. His sheath was engorging.
I looked at his cutie mark-less side and rearranged myself, sitting cross-legged and more demurely. My legs had picked up some muscle from the week on the trail, and I didn't need to be giving a teenager a hardon.
"My aunt is... well... our queen," he mumbled, looking resolutely at the skillet.
"Oh," I said. "Your highness?"
"Yeah, no, please don't do that," he said, some anger in his voice, eyes narrowed. "I don't actually have a title, technically, and I'm not very close to the succession. My mom is the queen's youngest sibling, so there are a dozen cousins and my older sister between me and the throne."
"Sorry," I said. "If you're headed to college, I'm surprised you don't have a cutie mark. Maybe you'll pick it up there? I know one pony and she was so proud when her son got his."
Terramar laughed, a big enough laugh his wings flexed off his sides. "Hand me your plate. Oh, cutie mark, ha! Hippogriffs don't get cutie marks, that's a pony thing."
I pulled my titanium plate from the mess kit and he used the spatula to slide the four trout fillets onto it. Hippogriffs didn't get cutie marks? Interesting.
"Where'd you graduate from? You said you just finished school?"
"It's called the Friendship School," he said. "My sister went there, too, in their very first cohort. A better translation would be 'Ambassadorial School.'" He shrugged. "I would rather be a mechanical engineer, but being the Queen's nephew means I have to do things I don't like."
"That sucks. Your aunt sounds a little... uh..."
"It's not her fault," he said. "It's the situation. Long story very short, our nation was conquered and occupied, and we're still recovering from that. I looked at human history: imagine Belgium or the Netherlands in, say, nineteen forty-six. We're like that. Everygriff has to lend a claw. And the queen is financing this gap year by way of apology. I'm flying—via Air France, not my wings—from Washington to Paris next week to go hike the Vosges."
"Nice. I've been to Paris, high school trip. You want half?" I gestured at the four fillets.
He grabbed one of the four and gulped it down in one snap, his face held vertically toward the sky. "I ate one whole fish already," he said. "The rest are yours."
I ate the three fillets and my gosh, were they good! Nothing beats fresh fish, less than a half-hour old, and these streams high in the Blue Ridge were clean, almost pristine, so the fish had none of the funky smell farmed fish gets.
"If you like mountains," he said, "you should visit Hippogriffia sometime. It's built on the side of a granite mountain and the views are spectacular. The plains to the west, the ocean to the east."
"That does sound nice." I ate the three fillets faster than I had expected to. This hiking really was leaving me famished. I imagined I'd be eating a second dinner later. I also could tell I'd lost a lot of weight over the last week, besides the new muscle on my legs.
"The other thing about Hippogriffia," he said, "is it contains Seaquestria. You like swimming?"
I chuckled. "I went to college on a swim scholarship. My kids are on the swim team at the gym."
Terramar fingered a pink gem on a leather lanyard around his neck. "So here's the thing. I've heard, um, warnings that humans can get a little weirded out by magic?"
"I'm friends with a unicorn," I replied. "She works for another company on my floor, we eat lunch in the breakroom together. I've seen her levitating forks and spoons plenty of times. I've touched her magic when she passes the salt shaker. She yanked the chorizo from my boss's windpipe by sticking her horn down his throat and shooting off a spell. Saved his life."
"All right," he said, and with three strong flaps of his wings, did an arcing backflip and landed in the trout pool. As he splashed into the water, there was a snap sound and a flash of white with undertones of rainbow, and I momentarily tasted ozone and smelled blue.
Something similar to Terramar popped out above the water. Same colors, but hooves and face like a pony and flippers like a dolphin.
"Seapony!" he said. "We hippogriffs are also seaponies, and vice versa."
"Wow," I said. My jaw hung open and I somehow got it shut again. "Wow."
"Join me for a swim?"
"It's pretty cold water," I said.
"I could seapony you."
I narrowed my eyes and scratched my chin. That was a tempting thought. "Have you ever seen a human successfully seaponied and back before? With your own eyes, not a rumor you heard."
His face fell. "Well, no, but every species that's ever tried..."
"I would love to," I said, "but I'm going to pass. I'm a parent—I'm responsible for two other lives. I can't risk becoming a transporter accident."
"A what accident?"
"Literary allusion," I said, waving a hand. "Never mind."
He shrugged. "If you swim close to me, my magic will keep you warm."
"How close?"
"Wellllll..." He blushed. "Touching?"
Okay. Talking to him thus far hadn't been too unlike talking to a human—but now I was stumped. Was he suggesting a way to swim in the clear mountain water without freezing my tits off? Or was that a proposition?
"I'm not sure," I replied. "I don't have a swimsuit."
"Well, that's a shame," he said, and disappeared under the water.
I watched him. He did an underwater loop, chased two trout, and then zipped a ways downstream before breaching like a dolphin and swimming back.
He was having fun. I wanted in. I'd swum in cold water plenty of times when I was younger.
I slipped off my t-shirt and shorts and piled them neatly on the boulder I'd been sunning on earlier. Quickly, before he surfaced, I slid into the water. I knew that was silly—if he was a seapony, he could probably see quite well underwater, especially this crystal-clear high mountain water, and getting my nakedness beneath the surface would make no difference. But skinny dipping was one of those things, I guess, where perception weighs more than reality, emotion more than logic.
I'd been going to the gym, being naked in the women's locker room for decades, but Terramar was a man—well, a stallion—and that made it different, somehow.
I still didn't have a good feeling for his age. The lack of cutie mark didn't mean anything, given that his species didn't get cutie marks. I decided the gap year meant he was probably eighteen or nineteen. Old enough to be skinny-dipped with.
As I slid in, the cold hit me, my goodness! I gasped and my entire body stiffened up to the point I was barely able to wade, elbows and knees locked. I was able to shuffle forward until the water was about at my collarbones, wetting the bottom of my hair against my back, and my teeth were chattering already oh my God it was cold.
Terramar, fast as any fish, approached and circled behind me before popping to the surface about three feet in front of me. "You changed your mind!"
"I'm freezing, I might need to change my mind back."
He held up a hoof and reached toward me, then stopped about six inches short. "Can I show you the magic?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"Grab my hoof."
"You had talons," I said as I grabbed it. "That's quite a bit of magic." The instant we made contact, I felt a wash of warmth from my hand, up my arm, and into my torso.
I was still freezing, however. It wasn't all that warm. "It's kinda... not that much."
He frowned. "We might have to hug."
"Hug?"
He gave a little shrug and that goofy smile of his.
"Why not," I said, and wrapped both arms around him.
Heat. Not mere warmth, but heat washed over me. It was like being in a hot tub, not a freezing mountain stream! From my nose to my toes, I warmed up. I felt the slickness of his chest and belly... fur? Coat? ...on my chest and belly. His forelegs wrapped around me, under my arms and around my back. Thick muscles rolled under his fur against my shoulder blades. I was a bit taller than his seapony form, so although I was standing on the smoothly-worn stones of the pool, he treaded water with his tail. Hard abdominal muscles tensed and relaxed against my belly with every stroke, the muscles where he transitioned from torso to tail tensing against the smooth skin of my brazilian wax with every sweep.
I tightened my arms around his back, placing my palms flat on his shoulder blades. I was surprised that he had fur, rather than dolphin-like smooth skin, but I wasn't complaining.
Our noses were a half-inch apart, and I stared into those deep teal eyes. "Ready?" he asked.
I took a second. I was buck naked, hugging a seapony, in a mountain stream just off the Appalachian Trail. My nipples—quite erect from the cold water—poked into his pectoral muscles and I was beginning to feel...
"Yup!" I smiled and nodded, taking a deep breath.
Barely did I get the word out before his muscles all tensed, turning steel-hard under that soft coat, and his tail thrashed, lifting us mostly out of the water. He backflipped, landing with a splash, and we shot underwater. I was prepared for a further shock of cold as the water closed over my head, I was prepared for the blurred vision of underwater, I was prepared for my lungs to burn and to have to break his hug to swim to the surface for a breath, but—
But, none of that happened. I don't think it was hugging him per se, I think it was that gem hung on the lanyard around his neck. It pressed between my breasts and seemed to tingle, a menthol-cool sensation like the few times Banana Fluff had passed something to me in the breakroom at work and I had taken an item from her glowing aura.
We swam. I did frog-style kicks, his tail thrashed, our eyes locked onto each other's eyes as we dove and rose, now breaching like a whale, then diving deep, chasing the trout, barrel rolls. I don't know how long we swam, our bodies held tight to each other. I still had to break the surface periodically and breathe—I got the impression he did not need to—but I was easily holding my breath for several minutes at a time.
My vision was sharp, too. Like wearing an expensive pair of swimming goggles.
Rolls and loops, zigzags and sine waves, we swam. I've been swimming since I was a kid, in pools and lakes, rivers and oceans, under sun and rain, but I never had a swim quite like that.
We broke the surface again and treaded water. His face seemed... off, somehow.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"N-nothing," he said.
I raised an eyebrow. The sun had moved, casting the trout pool, and us, into shadow, but despite the bad light I realized: "You're blushing."
"A-am not!"
We floated, legs and tail barely kicking to keep us at the surface. He seemed quite buoyant. I gave a little smile and hugged him tighter, pressing my chest against his, my nose less than an inch from the tip of his muzzle. "What's wrong?"
"I-I-I-I-" he said. "Oh, damn."
That's when I felt it. I jumped, slightly, thinking a trout had brushed against my rear.
Then, putting his face and the sensation together, two and two became four, and I realized his erection was brushing against my buttcrack. "Oh," I said with a smile.
"You-you-you-I-"
I kissed him.
His eyes widened and he then kissed back. The feathery ear-like tufts vibrated as I wrapped my legs around his tail, hugging him with my arms and my legs now, and the soft brush of his cock against my bottom turned into a firm pressure. His shaft pressed between my cheeks, up against me. I lowered myself about an inch until I was sitting on his thick seapony meat.
His kissing turned desperate, but inexpert, and he slobbered on my lips and cheeks. His tail pumped a little faster, keeping us at the surface, and with every beat of his tail, the top of his shaft pressed against my labia and the bottom of my buttcheeks.
Terramar broke the kiss and hugged me tighter around my shoulder blades, earning an oof! as my air escaped.
"Did you know," he said, "that seaponies have dolphin-like penises?"
"What's that mean?"
With that goofy grin of his again, I felt a warm pressure up at the top of my buttcrack. The pressure moved down, spreading my cheeks wide. It hesitated at my back entrance, throbbing against me anus for a moment, and then moved lower, pressing against my labia. I shivered at the throbbing pressure against my opening.
"Prehensile," he replied.
I reached down with one hand, back behind and between my legs, and grabbed the throbbing mass of seapony and pressed it up against me.
"Ah!" he said.
"Prehensile deeper," I replied, and shifted both hands to his cheeks, kissing aggressively.
His lips were warm, driving back the cold of the drops of water that clung to my face. His tongue and mine touched, licking each other, and his tip pressed into me. My opening was tight—I was on a long dry spell, okay?—and the thick flare pressed inside me, pushing up in time with his stroking tail, trying to drive deeper but without pushing too hard.
He kissed back, his tongue—thicker and heavier than a human's—brushing mine, my lips, and my body moved from warm to hot as his thick cock stretched me out, finally getting the flare of his tip deeper into me. I sighed and a shudder ran up my spine at the sensation.
Now—don't get me wrong. I didn't divorce my idiot ex-husband because of any deficiencies in the bedroom. Not at all. But wow, the diameter!
He slowly filled me and my eyes closed. I lowered my head to his shoulder and nibbled the side of his neck, tasting the clear mountain water on the soft fur, the feathery ear brushing my cheek, and—
Ka-boom!
We broke our mutual hugs, spinning toward the noise, and his cock popped out of me. My pussy seemed to throb, forlorn, at the sudden emptiness. Having broken physical contact with him, losing the magic from his gem, the cold of the mountain stream hit me like a sledgehammer in the guts. I gasped, sank, spluttered, and then kicked and thrashed back to the surface, treading water.
"Oh, horseapples," he said. Another flash of lightning lit the dark clouds to the west. "The storm accelerated."
"One potato," I muttered. "Two potato..." I got up to eleven potato before the new rumble of thunder rolled over us. "Out of the water," I said. "Less than three miles."
I swam the few strokes it required to hit the shallows and surged out of the pool, streaming water off my body and I shivered as the mountain air—now noticeably chillier with the storm's first gusts—hit my skin.
I gathered up my scattered clothes and sundries and tossed them through the flap of my tent. Terrarmar leaped, breaching like a dolphin again, and the flash of magic filled the clearing and transformed him back into a hippogriff. He did an inside loop, those massive wings spread, and landed on the stream's bank.
We quickly doused the fire, using my cooking gear to scoop up stream water, and retreated to the tent.
"I'm, uh, sorry," he said, sitting on his haunches with his forelegs planted in front of his abdomen and his wings wrapped around them, hiding his package. "I didn't mean to get a hard-on while we swam."
Still naked, still wet, I just looked at him and smiled. I, too, was sitting on my haunches. I turned to face him, hands on my knees, and let my legs spread a little, exposing myself. "Do I seem upset?"
His eyes focused between my legs and he screeched. In the confines of the tent, that hawk-like sound made my ears ring.
The first drops of rain splattered on the tent, big heavy drops. I flicked on my battery-operated lantern, since the sky was rapidly darkening and the tent was gloomy. The lantern cast harsh shadows "I'm cold," I said. "And your feathers look really warm."
Terramar squawked again. I unzipped my sleeping bag, tossing it open, and got on all fours on it and leaned toward him, kissing his beak.
That... was weird, I'll admit. Cool but not cold, a thin soft skin over the hard beak. Extremely different from the pony-like mouth he had manifested as a seapony.
He leaned toward me, wings moving up to wrap around my bare torso, and nibbled gently on my lower lip. The razor-sharpness of the beak sent a wave of fear down my back. One slip on his part and I would look like I'd lost a fight with a pair of hedge clippers.
I leaned back, kneeling now, and cupped his face in my hands, leaning into the kiss more. Feathers, as soft as a kitten's fluffy coat, were warm against my palms. His tongue poked out of his mouth—beak—and I nibbled it, wrapping my tongue around it and pulling it into my mouth. Surprisingly, he didn't taste like fish, but rather... just warm, masculine, good. His hands (talons?) reached up and the long dagger-like claws scratched gently up and down my shoulder blades, the feathers on his forearms tickling my flanks and the sides of my boobs.
He broke the kiss, leaning his head down and nibbling on my ear, my neck, down to my collarbone and I nuzzled, getting my face buried into the white down of head. So soft! Unlike anything I had previously imagined.
Honesty compels me to admit I had been fairly horny even before he dropped out of the sky. It had been fourteen months since I'd gotten laid, given the unpleasantness of the divorce. Dickhead and I had only spoken through our lawyers or through our kids towards the end there, and getting boned via a singles bar or the internet isn't exactly my thing. I'm a thirty-eight-year-old accountant; trolling the clubs or swiping left or right on apps aren't exactly things I'm comfortable with, and I mostly had custody of our kids, driving to soccer and band practice, anyway, so when am I gonna meet somebody and get railed?
Probably, I'd been going to rub myself off, lazing on the towel in the sun, before he dropped into the pool and interrupted me. I admit there were a couple packs of condoms in my bags, too, perhaps my subconscious hoping I found someone else passing in the night along the trail.
I'd been hoping for sex, it's just that simple. Interspecies? Ha! Never even occurred to me, not in a million years. But... but with those powerful arms wrapped around me, the prickle of sharp claws down my back, the beak nibbling on my collarbone; breathing in, my eyes clenched, through his down, the drum of rain on the tent and the flashes of lightning and the rumble of thunder outside—any sort of hesitancy melted away.
He spread his fingers and his palms slid down my back, cupping my butt. I slid my hands down his chest, across his belly, feelling the transition from soft feathers to silky fur, searching blindly with my eyes closed. I found the spreading of his hips and traced my fingernails along the insides of his thighs. He shook, biting harder on my collarbone and squeezing tighter on my buttcheeks, pulling them apart and spreading me wide. The barest hint of claws scratched down the cleft of my bottom, close to but not touching my asshole, and I shook in the naughtiness of the teasing almost-touch. My pussy burned, dripping wet already and dying to be filled, but instead of just pushing him onto his back and mounting him, I forced myself to be patient.
I scratched the thin fuzz of his inner thighs in figure-eights and then placed the backs of my hands flat on his thighs and slid them inward until I found his balls. They had looked huge when we sat outside in the sun. As I wrapped my hands around them, feeling them through the soft fuzz and taught skin of his scrotum, I actually whimpered. They were enormous, bigger than my hands could wrap around, grapefruit-sized or more.
He squawked, softly this time so my ears didn't ring, as I gently massaged his balls, pressing up against them with my palms, rolling them between my fingers. Clockwise then counter; gentle tug then gentle press; keeping my motions random.
He grabbed harder onto my ass, spreading it even wider, and the cool air of the tent played across my wetness. The pad of one of his fingers rubbed the tightness of my asshole and the surprise made my shoulders roll and my toes curl.
My hands slid up, fingernails scratching the soft fur on his ballsack, as I searched for his cock.
It wasn't hard to find.
Back in the trout pool, swimming, his seapony cock had been reasonably long and thick, and its few inches of penetration into me had stretched me wide. When my hands found his hippogriff cock, however, I jerked my head back from nuzzling and looked down. In the harsh directional light of my lantern and the strobes of the lightning, harsh light and dark shadows, it took me a moment to understand what I was seeing.
"Oh my God," I said. And then I thought: no condom in the world will cover that thing! With one hand, I couldn't even wrap around his circumference; my thumb was a solid inch short of my middle finger when I squeezed around his shaft. And the length? My brain bluescreened and I just stared.
"I read an idiom," he said, "when I was studying human culture: 'hung like a horse...?'"
With both hands, I grabbed around the massive, flared tip. It had so much more circumference than even his shaft that both hands barely wrapped around it. God, his cock was heavy and hot with all the blood filling it.
A dildo that size would have come with a warning label and a liability release form.
As it throbbed in my hand, the tip pulsing with his every heartbeat, I realized: he wasn't even fully erect yet. I took my right hand off his flare and inserted three fingers into myself, getting them sloppy with my own excitement. I smeared the wetness around his tip, my fingers tracing whorls and figure-eights on the velvety skin. He squawked again, loudly, cock jumping in my grip, and the heat and throbbing under my palms waxed even further as his erection grew. I dipped my other hand into myself and smeared my wetness into the cleft between his balls.
He sighed, grabbing my butt harder, and nibbled more on my collarbone. I squealed as a chill ran down my spine and doubled the goosebumps on my legs.
I stared down at my own wetness glistening on his enormous, blunt tip and imagined it deep inside me. His muscular hands gripped my ass so hard I expected four-fingered bruises on my buttcheeks in the morning.
After a minute of stroking my hands down him, from tip to shaft, one after the other, his cock seemed to be fully erect. Steel-hard, huge, soft pinkish-white skin, it jumped with his heartbeat and in time with clenching of his balls, now throbbing and engorged themselves. I stared down and momentarily asked myself, Are you really going to try to take that thing?
My brain started going off in random tangents as his massive slab throbbed in my hands. It's a dinosaurian cock, it's going to tear you open! Well, birds are dinosaurs. Wait, but his cock is horse-like, not dinosaur like.
I put my hands on his chest and pushed, trying to lever him backwards so I could ride that monstrous cock. He let go of my buttcheeks and dropped onto his own tail, putting his arms behind himself to avoid falling. "Hey, no!"
I stopped pushing, my hands now light on his chest. I hadn't expected a no; he seemed just a horny as me.
"Not on my back. On a soft bed, no problem, but on a sleeping bag on rocky ground? That'll hurt my wings. I can't be on the bottom."
"Oh." Well, at least it wasn't no-no! He wasn't saying no to sex, just to me riding him. But Jesus Christ I wasn't sure anything but me-on-top was going to work! "Well, what works for you?"
"I... well... um..."
"Your first time?"
"Ha! No!" Terramar shook his head. "Well, depends on one's definition? I've never been with another hippogriff, so old fuddy-duddies would call me a virgin, but I have been with a unicorn, a pegasus, and an earth pony, and a delivery griffon, but... anyway, uh, pony style? Since you don't have wings, and it's raining anyway, we can't do griff-style."
I blinked, wondering what the hell griff-style was, and decided it probably would have required a hang glider and parachute.
Pony style—doggy style, I assumed he meant. Oh, man, that was going to be... he was big, and doggy is how a guy gets deep.
On the other hand (claw?), I always really enjoyed doggy style. It's very erotic to have your partner looming over you, just grabbing your hips and slamming you backward onto his cock, taking you how he wants and all the while you're free to slam your hips backwards and get into it as hard as you want...
"Yeah, pony style," I said with a smile. I kissed the tip of his beak. He made a soft chirp and his feathery tail swished against the fabric wall of the tent. I ran fingers through his mane, closing my eyes to focus on the sensation. It wasn't like hair; softer and fluffier. But it wasn't quite like feathers, either. Whatever the sensation was, the silky sensation across my fingers sent little tiny tingles up my arm. I leaned up and nuzzled his mane, getting a good sniff of him. He mostly smelled like the Appalachian Trail: dust and pollen, pine sap and coal pollution. Given his swimming, that was a surprise, but maybe the magic kept the feathers dry? But... but, there was a hint of something, something simultaneously masculine and alien...
Fluids started dripping down my inner thigh, I was getting so hot. His smell had pushed me over the edge. Leaning down, I gave a quick, playful nip with my front teeth on the giant throbbing end of his member, and got a sharp taste of his own burgeoning excitement.
"A hippogriff can't make a human pregnant?" I asked.
He laughed. "I couldn't even impregnate a griffon or pony, even if I tried. It's perfectly safe."
I looked at his talons. "Safe, you say?"
"Well, safe-ish." He smiled and flexed a claw.
Shuffling around on my hands and knees, staying on the sleeping bag, I pointed my rear end at him and wiggled my butt while looking over my shoulder. I wasn't sure what counted as dirty-sexy to a hippogriff, but here we were. I spread my legs a little wider to lower my butt and pushed up on my palms, arms straight and elbows locked. I'd learned years before that putting some curve in my spine kept my idiot ex-husband from bruising my cervix during doggy style. Terramar was inhumanly huge—I use that word 'inhuman' deliberately—but every little bit was going to help.
He licked his... well, not lips. Beak? He licked his beak and stared at my presented underside, his eyes wide. His breath rasped, louder than the pounding rain and gusting wind.
Thunder crashed and he reached out, grabbing me around the waist before starting into my eyes. "You're sure?"
"Hell, yes."
The sharp points of his talons pricked my skin and the cold air in the tent, chilled by the cloudburst outside, made gooseflesh stand up from my shoulders down to my ankles.
Our eyes locked together, he stood on his back hooves and shifted more weight to where his claws gripped my waist. I noticed how light he was, despite all the hard muscles I'd felt while hugging him. Must be an anatomy thing, or a magic bird thing.
"Hey, Terramar?" I asked.
"Y-yeah?"
"Does your species have anal sex?"
Squawking, feathers rustling, blushing. "Yeah?"
"Do not."
He laughed. "I don't want to fly you to a hospital in this weather, no."
"Let's do something naughty," I said.
He licked his beak again, eyes wide, his breath fast. That enormous cock throbbed rapidly with his pounding heartbeat.
"Terramar?"
"Y-yeah?"
"Slow down. Deep breath. Calm. This is fun. We're two people, having fun, okay?"
Another smile and a short nod. His chest expanded and fell with a huge breath, his wings flexing a few inches off his side. He grinned. "Heh. I was just this nervous my first time. Gab—uh, my first partner—said something similar to me."
His hands slid down from my waist to my buttcheeks, palms flat, and he spread me wide. I clenched those muscles, knowing it would make my asshole wink at him—I was momentarily glad I'd gotten my bum done when I got waxed before the hike—and he squawked again.
"Do you look at any human porn for 'research'?"
"Yes," Terramar said, and pressed that massive blunt tip against me.
My vision went dark, despite a lightning flash outside lit up the tent, as the sensation flooded over me. My god, I'd never felt, never imagined something like that. He pressed forward, spreading my opening, the softness of his flare over the steel hardness of his shaft, pressing against the hot wetness of my own excitement. I'd never, ever felt anything quite like that: as I said before, I'd only fucked humans, and he was inhuman.
(I momentarily thought about my unicorn friend and her husband—she's the size of a golden retreiver, but ponies are reputed to be hung like the top few percent of humans. I was suddenly jealous of not only her happy marriage, but also her marriage bed...)
Panting, I bit my cheek as Terramar filled me. The sensation of his huge, hard slab of meat stretching me just ran up and down my spine. I clenched on him and felt his heartbeat though his dick. I wondered how he didn't pass out from low blood volume.
Thank goodness I was so turned on and wet enough that he just slid right in. Had I been dry, this would have been a disaster.
"How do I feel?" I asked.
"Luna and Celestia! You're so slick." He pushed forward a little more and the muscles in my belly clenched. My knees and elbows shook as he drove deep. He bottomed out, hitting the end of my channel, and his hands clamped harder on my ribs. The tips of his talons pricked my skin and the sides of my boobs.
I lowered my torso, resting my chin on my left forearm, and reached back with my right arm, grabbing his balls and squeezing.
"Oh!" he gasped. "Actually, wow."
"Pump," I commanded, and moved my fingers from his balls to my clit.
I rubbed, ring and middle fingers counter-clockwise. My nub was hard, excited, and my rubbing helped build up more heat inside me. He slid out, quickly but not too quickly, and the flared ridge of his glans rubbed down my insides, plowing over my g-spot. I gasped, shuddered, and rubbed my clit harder as he hit me. As he withdrew, my pussy clenched, trying to hold him in and the emptiness filled me as I pulled out.
He slid back in, much more slowly, and he hit my g-spot again. God! I lowered my hips, just an inch, forcing him to fuck at a slight downward angle, and that ensured he absolutely plowed by g-spot as he pressed in, his every stroke making my vision go dark and my head swim at the ridge of his glans slid across it.
My muscles fought against the stretching of his size but he grabbed my hips and forced himself in. Heat built deep inside me, around my pussy and my uterus and my ass. He pulled out again, slow, and then slammed in fast, surprising me, and began rutting.
I moaned and he grunted. His balls slapped against my hand as I rubbed my clit, my rhythm disappearing as I bore down on it. His huge size got my g-spot with every thrust, stretching me out. The heat and the pressure built inside me and I clenched my eyes shut. Wetness rolled down my fingers to my wrist. I hadn't gotten that wet in years, hell, not since college. I brought my fingers to my lips and tasted myself, sweet and slick, and his balls started slapping my clit as he pumped faster, the pressure and the heat inside me building, I could tell I was about to—
He stopped, holding himself almost fully out, barely touching the tip of his cock to my labia. "W-what?" I gasped, my pussy clenching from the rhythm of the rutting we'd established, unsure why he wasn't pounding it in time.
He grabbed me, claws on my breasts, lifted my torso up until my back touched his chest, hugging me so tight I couldn't breathe, both of us sitting up, on our knees, and he pressed his cock up into me slowly.
That sudden suffocating hug, the feel of his soft fur and feathers against my bare back, and the sudden slow insertion all combined to set me off. The pressure in my belly and pussy released, heat rushing from my center out to my toes, my fingers, the tip of my nose as I came. I squirted all over his balls, shouting and trying to breath against his bear hug.
My hands went to my belly, touching my waxed pubis and my lower abdomen and I felt the thick, hard pressure of his shaft entering me, pushing up into me, and I came again.
He started pumping his hips up-and-down, short thrusts into me, buried deep, and I started cumming continuously as he filled me and tapped the end of my channel time and time again, his hug pressing me downward, forcing me down, impaling me on his cock, and then he bit my ear—hard enough to bruise but not enough to bleed, he knew exactly what to do with that beak—and then he squawked, loud and right in my ear, that screeching hawk noise and I screamed too, cumming even harder as something weird happened.
The pleasure, the hot itch deep inside me of the crashing orgasms turned cool, almost like there was menthol inside me, and I recognized the feeling of Equestrian magic again. He slid up, deeper, and my hands on my belly could feel what was happening: his magic opened up my cervix and let his cock slide up, deep inside me.
It didn't hurt at all, which to this day, I'm both surprised and grateful for. Whatever spell that was just dilated me wide and his cock popped up and in. The sudden fullness of having that massive, flared glans filling my womb set me off into the biggest orgasm of my life. I twisted my neck around, found his beak, and kissed him. Our tongues met and I stared into his eyes as I clenched, every muscle in my belly clamping down, holding him tight at that deepest possible insertion.
My hands slid up, touching my belly where his huge tip bulged out. He made tiny half-inch trusts of his hips, as far as he could with my womb clamping him in place, and I massaged him through my abdominal wall, and then...
Then...
Then his tip bulged, stretching my belly a solid inch. I felt his sudden flaring inside me and the widening of his cock pulsed against my fingers where they rested outside me.
And he came. Unlike the painlessness of his magic popping into my womb, that hurt. I shouted, he gasped. I reached down, grabbing his balls and feeling them pull up to his underside as his body clenched, cock expanding with each spurt of cum, and he filled me. Pain like a contraction cut across my belly and back as he loaded my womb with his alien seed. He screeched again and I shouted, feeling my abdominal muscles straining against the sudden fullness.
We panted, my head still twisted around, staring into each other's eyes.
"Wow," he said.
"Wow," I said.
He released his hug and I leaned forward again, back to my hands and knees, and he scooted backwards. The pressure like being a too-full balloon released when he popped back through my cervix and pulled out of me.
What looked like a pint of cum splattered the inside of the sleeping bag.
As the ringing in my ears and the rushing of my blood quieted, I perceived the rain and the thunder and the wind once more. His cock, coated with my clear emissions and his white seed, throbbed and retreated into his sheath again, cum dripping off of it.
Another huge splatter of cum fell out of me and my whole body started to tremble from the exertions and the stretching.
"You suppose I'm the first human to fuck a hippogriff?" I asked.
He blushed. "My cousin, uh... but my cousin's a she, and the human was a he, so we're, you and I, we're probably the first to, well,..." and he gestured to his cock.
"Awesome," I said, and flopped onto my back on the sleeping bag. More cum slid out of me, lava-like in its heat, and slicked my asshole and my buttcrack, soaking the fabric beneath me. The smell was strong, far sharper than a human's semen smelled, along with his sweat, but it smelled good. It smelled like... pleasure. "Give me a hug."
He laid down on top of me and I wrapped my arms around him, beneath his wings. God, he was light! Magic or birdlike bones, I had no idea. He hugged me in return and we kissed. I pulled the sleeping bag's other half over top of us, snuggling us together, and turned out the lamp. We both dozed off, the wetness of my squirts and his giant load soaking us where our crotches touched.
A few hours later, we woke up and made love again, missionary-style, without even a word or stirring from under the covers, and then fell asleep once more.
The next morning, I left the tent, buck-naked and with my legs and ass and belly crusty with dried hippogriff cum. I was sore, all of my bits, the beak-bruises and talon-scratches and especially my lewd bits from his huge size. I just stood there, enjoying the morning sun and the fresh morning-after-a-storm clean air. I planned on another bath in the stream, antibiotic ointment and band-aids on the talon wounds, and then a light hike until lunchtime to get my sore muscles loosened up.
There was a cough behind me. I whirled around and saw a park ranger.
"We had some reports," she said, looking at the crusty cum on my inner thighs, "of what sounded like an injured raptor."
Author's Note
Is this the first hippogriff stallion x woman story? I think it's the first hippogriff stallion x woman story.
(I've often lamented the relative dearth of stallion-on-woman stories. So, fine, I did it myself. Leech's two Thunderlane stories are the best of the genre, and I hope mine compares well.)
