The night sky in Canterlot was a canvas upon which Luna had painted extravagantly. Swirling stars and glistening clouds danced above the white and gold city, the setting perfect for romance for all. Most would think of ponies exchanging words of wonder and whimsy for confessions and proposals in the parks, but tonight was a night like no other. One couple flying down the moonlit road was unlike any of the loving couples surrounding them, one carrying his beloved on grey wings while she clutched his feathery plumage, the two exchanging a loving kiss.
The griffon flew over the entrance to a large restaurant, a bakery with a sign depicting a moustache toting moose holding a tray of eclairs. They landed on a stone balcony, and he let the mule in his arms down so they could enter their abode together.
"Oh, what a positively wonderous evening!" Mulia said, spinning in joy as she entered their bedroom.
Gustav closed the balcony doors behind him, locking it before shrugging off his suit top.
"Oui Madame, it was a lovely outing," he said, hanging his coat. "The lake reflecting the pale moonlight upon the golden bridges was magnifique! Truly, zis location was the perfect spot for our wonderous lives together, you would agree, no?"
"Indeed," the mule said, pulling off her white elbow-length gloves. "To think, all those months ago we were at one another's throats over a pastry contest! Oh, what a time that train ride was. And now..."
She turned about, fondling the gold and sapphire ring that rested on her finger.
"Now I can happily call you my oh so beautiful wife," Gustave said proudly, his chest puffing up.
Mulia snorted, blowing a doubtful sigh through her lips.
"Please, dear, no need to pretend anymore, you've already landed your nest," she teased. "I know that I'm nowhere near as young or pretty as the mares that love to waddle their makeup caked flanks down the streets like penguins on parade."
"Non, non, non, mon Cherrie!" he said, rushing up to grab her hands. "Mon petit chon-fleur, you are the most gorgeous mare in the whole world to me!"
Blushing, Mulia flicked her mane back and humbly smiled up to her husband.
"Well, your words certainly do make the butterflies in my stomach rival the Wonderbolts," she chuckled.
Gustave wrapped an arm around her shoulders, leaning down and holding her close as he nudged his beak against her muzzle.
"Shall I prove my admiration for you with more than just words, mon amour?"
Mulia silenced him with a Prench kiss, a leg wrapping around his waist as they leaned into one another. Tongue met tongue in a dance of passion, the griffon's extremity overwhelmed by the mule's longer, thicker tongue. They savored the taste of one another's love as Gustave brought them back to a standing position, his hands going down to undo the zipper of her dress.
"Shall we partake in our échange d'amour?" he whispered.
Mulia's hands were already unbuckling his belt and pants with ease, the zipper already opened by the time she answered.
"When have I ever turned you down? I count my lucky stars every night I found a john like you who accepts me, despite my... well, body."
Gustave made an offended gasp.
"I'd smack those words out of your mouth if you weren't my beloved wife," he said. "You are truly a goddess of beauty! Forget what these ponies consider attractive, their 'culture' is tainted by centuries of worshipping the grossly overendowed sun pony!"
He quickly Mulia of her dress, leaving her standing with only a plain white bra and panties keeping her semi-decent. Blushing, she moved to cover up her plump features, shame dancing across her eyes as she failed to meet his gaze.
"Mon amour, you are as stunning and beautiful as the Griffon goddesses of love and fertility in the old country," he said, caressing her belly. "This excess, it shows you are a fantastic chef in my culture! Our children will never go a day hungry, something that is often taken for granted in my homeland. And your curves, oh Dieu ait pitié, your curves make the mountains jealous with how infatuating they are for the eye to behold!"
His claws slid across her stomach, one reaching down for her plump backside while the other tickled the underside of her love handles.
"Ah, like the finest dough in the world."
A smirk cracked through her features, and with a quick snap, Gustave's claws managed to finesse to her back and unhook her bra. Her tail flicked as the cool night air met her nipples, the apple-sized breasts sagging freely right into Gustave's hands. He gently groped her chest, bringing a dark brown nipple to the tip of his beak. His tongue rolled across her sensitive flesh, and she let out a moan at the touch.
"Such an exquisite sound, like the orchestras in the Grand Halls. I yearn to hear your song!"
Grabbing her by the thighs, Gustave lifted her up as he buried his face into her chest. He carried her to their bed before gently sitting her down. Trailing pecks and kisses down her chest, he gripped the edge of her panties and tugged at them to urge her to lift. Leaning back and straightening her legs, she let the now soaked undergarments slide right off of her. Gustave gently parted her legs, guiding his hands down her thighs to part her pussy's lips.
"Ah, sheer perfection," he said, closing his eyes as he leaned down to lick.
Mulia laid back and moaned as her husband ate her out. She loved the rougher texture of his tongue, the bumps tickling her in just the right way to drive her wild. She groped her own chest as her legs draped over his shoulders, her hooves clacking behind him as she pulled him in. As he savored the taste of his wife, Gustave pulled down his pants, freeing his lightly barbed member from its tight confines.
"Wait, wait, deary please stop," Mulia panted. "I want to feel your love for me."
The griffon reluctantly parted from her nethers and cocked an eyebrow.
"Can you not feel the poems I write with my tongue upon your perfect pink canvas?"
"Mmm, I mean your real love for me. Paint the canvas white with that delectable éclair I know you have for me," she said, winking.
Gustave smiled as he got off of the floor, stroking his prickly erection while Mulia made room for him on the bed. She put an arm over her head and beckoned him forth with a single finger, to which the griffon happily answered. His tip smooshed against her folds and for a few seconds, he was content to thrust against her. She reached out and buried her fingers into the plumage of his chest, the griffon's thick coat akin to a satin cushion to her senses. Once he felt his cock was lubricated enough, Gustave slid his pastry into her oven.
They both moaned as they were joined once more in their celebration of matrimony, only silenced by the tender make-out they found themselves naturally leaning into. The sensation of his small little barbs travelling through her love tunnel scratched an itch that Mulia didn't even know existed until they'd first made love, and the tight warmth of Mulia's embrace drove Gustave wild. He desperately kept his want to simply ravage her in check, letting them adjust to one another over the course of but a single minute.
Unable to keep still any longer, the griffon pulled out slowly, his cock lovingly trailing its barbs along Mulia's insides. Once all but the bulbous tip was out, he paused before thrusting back in. He started off agonizingly slow as to not blow his cream too early, though he eventually started to speed up his thrusts. His strokes were long and deep, making sure to show her just how deep his love for Mulia ran. She could feel it too, his love beginning to pool up and dribble through his cock, each heartbeat drawing that wonderful filling ever closer. Their pulses synced up at that point, every union of their hips matching the rhythm of their hearts. After a certain stroke, Mulia tipped over the edge as her orgasm came crashing upon her. Out of instinct, her legs locked behind his hips and she dragged him in to the hilt.
"Ah, M-Mulia, I must share my love for you!" Gustave panted, his wings shaking as his own climax approached.
"Do it! Put a whole clutch of eggs into my bakery! I love youuu!" she screamed.
The griffon doubled over and laid down over his wife as he emptied everything he had into her. The hot cum washing through her pussy made Mulia quiver in delight as her orgasm redoubled. Her quivering pussy milked Gustave's cock twice as hard, goading the chef's special sauce out even harder than he already had.
After a few moments of unrelenting ecstasy, the two came back to their senses in a panting pile of sweat and cum. With Gustave rooted deep within, his cock's bulged end ensured that not a drop of the bird's seed spilled out of the mule's lips. They gazed into one another's eyes with smiles as they kissed again, holding one another close as they drifted to sleep, dreaming of the pitter patter of little claws and hooves that'll soon fill their lives.
Author's Note
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I loved writing it. If you'd like a fic like this, I always take commissions!
Side note: male mules are referred to as "johns"