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It's a Father Daughter Thing Written by Amethyst Mare for Fyrdrgon

A cooked breakfast was a once-a-week affair that could not be missed whether one was a cougar or dragon, if Ropes allowed his opinion to dominate. He relished lashings of piping hot bacon and sausages, though Fyrdrgon insisted on heaping eggs, baked beans and buttered toast on to his plate regardless of his wishes. Sitting at the square dining table, the well groomed cougar licked his lips, digging into the meal prepared by his dragoness wife, Fyr, while the four tentacles, sprouting from his back, undulated peacefully. Glancing over her crimson shoulder, Fyrdrgon caught his pale eyes, smiling and somehow managing to appear radiant even in a fluffy dressing gown, yellow stripes catching the eye where revealed. Ropes held his breath, matching her smile with his own as he cast his eyes down her head-fins, framing her head, to her lips. He could always scrape the eggs to the side with a lady like that.

"Morning, dad, mum," the demon cougar's daughter, Helena, stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes with the back of her paw. She fought down a yawn.

The adult dragoness, looking to make her way in the world, was the spitting image of her mother and, clad in only an oversized night shirt and panties, sparked feelings in Ropes that he would rather forget in Fyr's presence. The two made eye contact, fleeting yet electric. Her two pairs of breasts were visible beneath her pale blue shirt, pleasantly rounded and perky for their size, almost as if she was flaunting her shape for his arousal. Hiding a smirk within a yawn, the lithe dragoness stretched, shirt riding up to reveal black underwear that barely covered the curve of her buttocks, accentuating more than concealing. She flounced into a chair at the table, all too aware of her feminine charms, as Fyrdrgon whistled quietly, clueless to the tension.

"Where's Hiss, dear?" Fyr asked, dishing up another serving of breakfast. Helena grunted and shrugged, combing her fingers through her rat's nest of straw-coloured hair.

"Doing what all lads do," Helena rolled her eyes dramatically. "Sleeping."

"God knows what time that boy was up until," Fyr muttered, almost tipping the plate of bacon on to the table. "All the time on that game box or meeting ladies..."

"He'll be fine, mom," Helena groaned. Under the table, her bare hind paw touched Ropes' leg. "We're like you and dad now, all grown up." She laughed.

"God forbid you are just like me and your father," Fyr said, joining in with her daughter's mirth: it was good to laugh.

Plopping down a cup of hot chocolate with a great dollop of whipped cream at Helena's elbow, Fyr chuckled and hummed a tune as she busied herself with the dishes. Typical of an early riser, she had already eaten breakfast in the early morn peace, sitting by the large bay windows with a steaming mug of coffee. Casually, Helena dipped her finger into the cream and sucked the digit clean, swirling her tongue to scoop up every last drop. Ropes narrowed his eyes and tightened his paw into a fist, cursing his morning choice of boxer shorts. What was little temptress up to?

"So, what are you doing today, dear," Fyr joined them at the table, a cup of orange juice cradled between two paws. "It's a beautiful day. I was going to go shopping, be a shame to waste it. Would you like to join me?"

"No thanks, mom," Helena licked her lips. "I have other plans. Could you look out for some more scale cream for me though...please?"

"Running low again?" Fyr clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth, secretly pleased that her daughter took such good care of herself; dry scales were a sign of ill health and one could never be too careful. Helena shrugged sheepishly, smoothing her night shirt down over her toned stomach.

"Yeah," she flushed. "But it's only the basic one I get, nothing fancy."

"I know, I know . . . It's the green tub, isn't it?" Fyr confirmed.

"No, it's changed colour again, new run," Helena scraped her chair back. "Let me get it."

"No, no," Fyr gestured to her to sit back down and rose more gracefully. "On the dressing table, right? Eat your breakfast, honey."

Not one to argue, Helena dropped back into her seat, taking note of when her mother was out of sight, but only when Fyrdrgon ascended the creaky stairs did the dragoness smile devastatingly, teeth showing in a huntress' grin. Rocking her chair back on two legs, Helena wriggled, adjusting something beneath the table that Ropes could not see. Suspiciously, the cougar sipped his coffee, willing his erection to soften even as Helena showed off. With a smug tilt of the head, she sat up and leaned forward to rest her elbows on the table, running her toe along Ropes' muscled calf. He furrowed his brow as something soft dropped on to his bare hind paw, something fabric...

He glanced warningly at his daughter who blinked with the innocence of an angel. Reaching down slowly, he curled his fingers around a scrap of fabric and raised his paw to reveal Helena's black underwear clutched within. Eyebrows shooting skywards, the cougar thrust aside his half-finished breakfast, knife and fork clinking, and unfolded her panties. On the strip that so recently secluded Helena's crotch from view was a thick smear of feminine moisture, luring him to taste the source from which it came. Tapping a forefinger against the side of her muzzle, the dragoness smirked, nipples perking through her teasingly thin shirt.

Unable to prevent a devilish grin from creeping across his lips, Ropes raised the soaked panties to his nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance as if he possessed a trophy beyond all comparison. His tentacles writhed in excitement, snaking out as if to pluck Helena from her seat. The randy dragoness' eyes lit up and she scrambled to her knees, simultaneously lifting her long shirt and displaying her swollen, pink sex. A drop of mouth-watering pussy juice dripped between her thighs.

"There's plenty more where that came from," Helena breathed, thrusting her hips in a demonstration of passion. Ropes swallowed.

"Are you in heat or what, Hel?"

"What?" She lashed her tail, affronted. "Can't a female fur want it like the guys do?" Ropes bit back a smile, eyes glowing: she had the fire of her mother. But he could not rile her up anymore as she was already on a short fuse, ready to blow...him.

"Of course, it's simply not...a good time, Helena. Your mother -"

"Oh, she'll be out soon enough," Helena snorted and waved her paw, peering at ropes through sultry eyelashes. "Didn't you listen, dad? She's going shopping. You know she'll spend forever finding the perfect cosmetics and all that. When she's gone...I expect a good fucking."

They quieted abruptly as an obtrusive creak heralded Fyr's untimely descent downstairs, though Ropes' whiskers still trembled from the force of his daughter's words. Putting an unneeded finger to her lips, Helena sank into her straight-backed chair, tugging the shirt down over her thighs as far as it would go. In a flash of panic, Ropes realised that he still held her underwear in his paw and fondled the fabric without conscious thought. He swore inwardly and shoved the undergarment deep into his pocket, saving the thoughts sparked for later perusal.

"Found it," Fyr stepped lightly as she re-entered the kitchen, a lively bounce in her stride. "I'll pick it up later for you, honey."

"Thanks, mom," Helena stretched out her foot, rubbing her toes over the bulge in her father's jeans with a watchful eye on Fyrdrgon.

Ropes could not concentrate on the light-hearted breakfast conversation as his wicked daughter refused him even a minute of rest. The table was constructed of dark, heavy wood and its bulky size ensured that Fyr was kept nicely out of the loop, tail swinging lazily through the gap in the back of her chair. Holding his breath, Ropes angled his chair away, trying to ward off Helena's risky advances. In Fyr's line of sight, she was the perfect daughter, laughing and smiling as the morning light brought out the more subtle tones in her hair. Her scales shone, evidence of the truth in her scale-care routine, and her attention barely flickered from conversation, even though she relentlessly teased the cougar with her hind paw, toying with his bulge. She was not one to be easily dissuaded, much to Ropes' detriment and throbbing, feline hard-on. He clenched his teeth and stared out the window, watching the occasional car pass beyond the limits of their garden, flashing in the sunlight.

Draining her mug of tea, Helena stretched luxuriously, careful to cover her thighs, and stood. Finally released from the continuous stream of touches, Ropes relaxed and his tentacles slumped in relief.

"Well, I better get on with things, hadn't I?" Helena laughed. "Got a lot to get through today."

"Don't work too hard," Fyr said, smiling at her husband who forced a tight-lipped curve in response.

Helena sashayed from the kitchen, swinging her hips as Fyr's attention turned to the linoleum. Ropes caught a muttered word about 'needing to sweep and mop' and leaped up whilst her mind was elsewhere, chasing his daughter at a brisk pace. Thankfully unnoticed, the cougar stumbled into the hallway, jeans uncomfortably tented in the expected location. Helena saw him coming and made as if to dash up the stairs like a shrill schoolgirl, tail whipping in excitement. Dodging the banister, Ropes lunged with a throaty growl that was both lustful and concealing a warning edge.

"What do you think you're doing?" Ropes hissed, catching Helena by the tail. "You are dangerously close to the cliff edge, Helena. What are you up to? If Fyr saw you...I don't even want to think of the consequences."

A flicker of doubt passed over the dragoness' muzzle like a dark cloud but was swept away by a gust of fresh thought. Fyr had seen nothing. Cocking her muzzle innocently, Helena studied her father's bulge, imagining that cock sinking into her folds, foreskin pulled back as he growled and pounded her into the bed... Her pulse quickened.

"Too hot for you to handle, is it?" Helena smirked. She slipped her tail free and slid the tip beneath Ropes' furry chin. "I'm simply setting the tone. You'll be ready for me when mom goes out."

Fyr, however, seemed to have thought twice about her shopping trip and threw herself into cleaning the house from top to bottom. By eleven she had scoured the kitchen floor, scraped depths of the freezer, berated Hiss for staying in bed for so long and deep cleaned the interior of the oven. Helena stalked her target through the house, the lustful blood of her sire pumping through her veins. It was part of the chase, the hunt, the thrill that he had introduced to her and, wearing only a short skirt and top that clung to her generous curves, she was swift to make use of her heritage.

The dragoness first pounced when Ropes returned from the garden, dusting soil from his paws. He had barely a moment to catch his breath before the dragoness pinned him to the wall with a passionate kiss, grabbing his paw and pushing it beneath her skirt so that he could evidence her lack of undergarments for himself. Groaning, the cougar curled a tentacle around Helena's neck, holding her close in a possessive, dominant grip: she swooned.

A door slammed and Ropes leapt away as if he had been stung, eyes feverish. Fyr had not yet left the house - caution had to be exercised! Helena bit her lower lip, panting lightly as she backed away in time to avoid Hiss, who padded around the corner with no shoes and no shirt.

"Off to do some hard work in the garden, are you?" Helena said sarcastically, the desperation of her arousal turning her to a side of meanness. "You look like a slob, Hiss, put some damn clothes on."

"Sheesh," the cougar rolled his eyes, two tentacles undulating, unperturbed. "What's gotten into you, Hel? Hey, dad."

"Hey, son."

It's not what's gotten into me, Helena growled, stomping into the living room. It's what hasn't.

The dragoness sat on her windowsill, craning her neck to watch her mother pottering about in the garden, mercilessly uprooting weeds from the bed of loam. In her raggedy clothes that would not have sold in a charity shop, Fyrdrgon appeared suspiciously as if she had dismissed the idea of going shopping altogether. Helena shuddered, dipping her fingers into her aching sex, masturbation a tasteless replacement for what she truly craved. What if Fyr did not leave? How long would she be forced to go unsatisfied? A fingertip grazed her clit and she stifled a cry.

Helena lifted her head. Someone light-footed was in the hallway outside her bedroom, humming a tune as he - for it was a deep, male hum - walked. Father? Quick as a flash, she swung her legs off the sill and raced across the plush carpet, barging into the hallway in a fit of excitement to see a very startled Hiss. His fur stood on end and his tentacles writhed manically as he held up his paws in a token of defence, though Helena could not imagine why she should want to do anything to him. Besides slap his muzzle for being a typical brother, that is. Where was her father? She growled. Hiss raised an eyebrow and tapped a rolled up magazine - an Xbox special - against the palm of his other paw.

"Where are you going in such a hurry?" He said dryly. "Trying to run me over, are you?"

"Oh, get off," Helena snorted. "Do you know where dad's got to?"

"Coming up the stairs now," Hiss rolled his shoulders, a yawn stretching his jaws wide. "'Scuse me, sis, nature calls."

Squeezing past as Hiss disappeared into the upstairs bathroom, Helena paused at the top of the stairs, legs set slightly apart as much for balance as for unladylike poise. Ropes glanced up and froze, tracing his pink tongue over his lips. Her position provided him with an excellent view up her white skirt and it was not as if the dragoness was trying to hide her modesty. His pace quickened and the cougar slid an arm around her waist, drawing her to him. The dragoness' heart pounded at the sensation of something oh so familiar poking her stomach and she moaned reflexively.

"I've been waiting," she breathed. "Please, I can't wait longer. I need it so badly, dad. Please, fuck me now. Fuck me!"

"No," Ropes hushed her, a paw silencing further words. "Fyr says she will go shopping this afternoon. You're going to have to be patient until then."

"But you'll try to get her to leave?" Helena mumbled through his paw, anxiously searching for agreement; Ropes nodded, casually trailing his paw over the dragoness' breasts, giving each a teasing squeeze.

Leaving her in the hallway - more unfilled than ever - Ropes trotted to his bedroom, which he shared with Fyrdrgon. The dragoness groaned and paced the length of the upstairs hallway, resisting the urge to pant as if she really was in heat. She wished she was in heat. That need could be tempered. Helena fought to ignore the sound of the cougar moving around the bedroom, drawers opening and closing with a discernible thud. She wanted him. Why could she not have him? She knew why, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to listen to the rational part of her brain. She wanted to tell it to fuck off and good riddance to reason too. Pace, pace, pace, turn, pace, pace, pace, turn: repeat.

"Watch it!"

Helena pulled up abruptly, sharply curved nostrils flaring. Hiss shook his head disbelievingly, holding up his paws once again in mock surrender. Heat spread across the dragoness' muzzle and she stepped back, wishing for nothing more than to disappear into the depths of her chaotic bedroom, her one, small sanctuary. In her arousal crazed state, even Hiss was an appealing target for relief. No, she had to wait for her father. When she remained mute, inching away inch by torturous inch, the young cougar twitched his tail irritably.

"What's going on?" Hiss folded his arms across his bare chest. "You've been acting weird all day, sis."

"Weird?" Helena huffed, looking anywhere other than at her brother. "God, would it kill you to put on a shirt?"

"Why? Mom doesn't care if I don't wear one in the house. Less washing for her, she says," Hiss shrugged good-naturedly, a boyish grin plastered across his muzzle. "So what's up with you, hm? Did you break something again?"

"No!" Helena snapped, rubbing her collarbone to buy a second of time. What could she say? He was a cat after his prey when he wanted an answer. "It's a guy, all right?" That was part of the truth.

At the mention of thusly titled 'girl problems', Hiss' attention waned. He shrugged nonchalantly, muttered something about getting a new video game and disappeared downstairs, now trainer-clad hind paws clumping obnoxiously. As he slouched past the living room, Fyrdrgon yelled at him to tie his laces, which trailed on the carpet as usual.

Helena breathed a sigh of relief, though the tense interaction did nothing to ease the heat in her belly, the possessive need to be filled, to orgasm, to run afoul of sexual exhaustion. Caressing her temples, she leaned into the wall, imagining that she was pressed to the chest of a lusty stud instead, preferably hard and dripping with readiness. It was worse than when she had gone into heat and would have borne children if her father had not calmed her with soothing licks across her aching folds. No, this was a mental need that could not be tricked into any form of satisfaction.

It's okay, she weakly reassured herself, leaning cautiously over the banister to find the source of laughter, which drifted up from the living room, Fyr amused at a joke made by Hiss. I can handle this. We'll fuck when mom next goes out or goes to sleep. It'll all be fine.

At least, she hoped so.

*

Her mother did not leave the house that afternoon or evening. Fyr did not even retreat to the master bedroom for an afternoon nap, which she was normally so fond of. Bursting with energy, she breezed through the house, even if Helena privately thought it a bit late for spring cleaning. Fyr clearly had other ideas and, even when Helena enquired after the shopping trip, Fyr revealed that she had changed her mind - changed her mind! How could she do that? Helena's fist thumped into the pillow where she stretched out on her bed, the dragoness' teeth brutally clenched. Her mother changed her mind like the bloody weather! Sure, it wasn't her fault that Helena suddenly wanted any and all sex but could she not feel the need for personal space? Space to fuck?

Begging off dinner, Helena feigned illness, shaking her head blearily when Fyr poked her muzzle around the door, curious as to why she was hiding upstairs. As if she could eat a thing! Her stomach was empty and dizziness rocked her body when she stood, swaying en route to the window. The first stars twinkled in the twilight, that blue-grey time of day between day and night that she could not see enough of. It was as if the world was closing the curtains on day and day was shining through the curtains to cast diluted light before drifting entirely out of reach. It would not be long before Ropes and Fyr retired to bed and she would go another day without satisfaction, forgotten. The dragoness considered the thought of going out to pick up a hot stud for the evening, but the energy just was not in her limbs. Besides, her mother disapproved of such activity.

No, that would be the worst idea, Helena decided. She would take her own satisfaction and see what she could do about the need for a randy male the next day; more finesse could then be applied within daylight hours. Confident that her bedroom door was locked, the dragoness disrobed, scattering clothes across the floor - Fyr would berate her for that in the morning. Massaging her breasts luxuriously, her toes flexed, the feminine moisture of her sex slick upon her scales. She panted and drove three fingers into her cunny, pumping them in a lewd imitation of a male's cock. Oh, she needed this!

Exploding into orgasm, the dragoness shoved her muzzle into the nearest pillow and her teeth pierced the cover as she sought to muffle her orgasmic scream. A whole day of frustration and vulgar teasing had left her finger on the trigger, only the slightest contraction of muscles required to fire. Her whole body shook and she pinched her nipples, drawing out the mind-shocking ripples for as long as physically possible. And, when the ecstasy died down, the sex-crazed dragoness massaged her clit, fingers trapped within her pulsing sex, bringing herself to climax over and over again.

She imagined the masculine cougar pinning her to the bed, rasping tongue caressing her breasts and forcing her nipples into taut peaks. The dragoness took the mental cock into her paws, stroking it with her fingers and palms, Ropes' foreskin sliding back and forth over the deliciously thick shaft. She wanted it inside her. Adding a forth finger to her messy, swollen pussy, Helena thrust her hips, raking her short claws over her breasts to set them alight with orgasm-inducing fire.

It was deep into the night when Helena conceded defeat on her frenzied masturbation, the need to be fucked like a dragon in heat all-encompassing and relentlessly demanding. She sprawled on the bed, panting, scales beaded with sweat. It was not enough - none of it was enough! She could stay in bed for the next week and her body would still crave the touch of a male, a partner, her father. Her body tingled and aching muscles forced her into action, padding like one possessed across the bedroom floor, the light of the moon allowing her enough of a glow so that she could see her way. What she was doing was dangerous, very much so, but it was what she had to do. Her steps made no sound in the corridor and she realised with a shiver that Ropes' bedroom door was slightly ajar, almost as if he was inviting her in. That was what she liked to think, that he expected her arrival.

She peered around the door of the master bedroom with bated breath, tail thumping against her legs. Fyr rested on her right side, a shapely lump beneath the thin, summer duvet, while Ropes laid separately, on his back with his chest rising and falling in slumber. No longer could she wait. The dragoness paced to the bedside, tail flicking like that of a feline and hair cascading in a tangled waterfall over her shoulders, wild and unkempt. Helena folded sinuously to her knees and nuzzled her way between the bed sheets, Ropes' fur tickling her muzzle. Her nose quested along his thighs, bulging with muscle, until she found what she was searching for.

It was a good thing Ropes slept naked.

Tracing her tongue along his soft cock, a chill slithered down Helena's spine at the thrill of what she was doing. A few feet away, Fyr murmured and rolled over in her sleep. Ropes' cock stiffened, responding eagerly to the dragoness' flexible tongue, a drop of pre cum moistening her lips. In his sleep, Ropes twitched, purring as Helena teased her tongue over the head of his cock, stimulating him to wakefulness. The cougar's eyelids fluttered and he reached down with a start, clasping his daughter's muzzle closed, ripping the sheets away. The dragoness looked up pleadingly, the picture of innocence, while Ropes gaped.

"Helena!" Ropes hissed lowly. "What on earth do you think you're doing?"

"I thought males liked to be woken up with a tongue on their cock," the dragoness tugged her muzzle free and licked her lips.

"That's true but -"

Helena did not allow another word, diving down to deep throat Ropes' cock with the skill of a classy lady of the night. She flexed her draconian tongue around the base of his cock, suckling so that her cheeks dipped into little hollows. Tilting his head back, the cougar breathed heavily, one eye on Fyr. One tentacle snaked around, the tip transforming into a fully functional cock - one of the perks of an earthbound demon - and slid between his daughter's breasts, smearing pre cum into her scales. Helena groaned, bobbing her muzzle all the more eagerly, and grasped the tentacle, holding it amid the mass of soft scales on her chest. She murred at the taste of salty pre cum on her lips, rolling it around her maw before swallowing with a great show of pleasure.

Fuelled by his daughter's lust and ever aware of Fyr sleeping on his right, Ropes could not hold out any longer. Pushing Helena roughly away, he rolled out of bed and grabbed her by the arm, one paw clapped over her muzzle to stifle all sound. The cougar dragged her bodily from the room, Helena struggling to remain on her feet. Doors were left ajar at their heels, the duo too caught up in one another to consider such a menial fact. In the doorway to Helena's bedroom, she wrenched herself free, only to crush her lips to Ropes' with a moan of pure desire. Walking backwards, the nude cougar pulled her with him towards the bed.

Helena did not care when she crashed on to the duvet, bouncing for a moment as she rolled on to all fours, thrusting her rump up for her partner. Gyrating her hips, she spread her soaked folds with two fingers, showing off the flushed interior, a thick ooze of pussy juice trickling over her clit. The dragoness moaned.

"Fuck me!" She hissed, looping her tail around Ropes, hauling him closer. "Fuck me, dad, I want to feel you. Now!"

Curling his lips back from his teeth in a playful snarl, Ropes leapt on to the bed, shoving Helena forward with his body. His cock ached and he wasted no time in slamming into Helena's cunny, making no effort to be gentle. The dragoness pressed her muzzle into the pillows, muffling her moans as she was well fucked at long last. All four of the cougar's green tentacles sported cocks by this stage and one slithered around to Helena's muzzle, effectively gagging her in a far more luscious manner. Transfixed by lust, the dragoness sucked furiously, intent of draining every last drop of cum from her father. Ropes dug his claws into Helena's hips, pounding her like a savage, breath taken in harsh pants.

Shuddering, Helena dropped her torso to the mussed duvet, tail curved over her back as she submitted completely. Two more tentacle-cocks rubbed her scales, pleasuring themselves with her body. That was three accounted for, including the one thrusting into the back of her throat. Where was the fourth? In silent answer, the fourth tentacle-cock slid between her rear cheeks, teasing through the crack of her buttocks and over her clenching tail hole. The dragoness lifted her rump keenly, emitting a muffled scream as the tentacle-cock powered into her tail hole, stretching unused muscles. Filled to the brim with dripping cocks in all three holes - muzzle, pussy and tail hole - Helena's body throbbed with orgasm.

The cougar gave a throaty chuckle, furred hips slapping against Helena's scales. He groped and slapped her buttocks teasingly, pounding into his daughter with a demon's zest. His fur matted with sweat and stimulation set his tentacles flaring with increased sensitivity, driving deeper into Helena's tail hole and muzzle. He felt her gag but relished the sensation, as did she, giving her all that she had asked for and more. In the dim room, their frenzied liaison was surreal, time having no meaning as Ropes thrust Helena to multiple orgasms, each stronger than the last until her whole body trembled in blissful exhaustion.

There was no noise in the rest of the house as Ropes deviously squirmed two of the tentacles along his daughter's scales, the dragoness half-supported by them as her legs weakened. Still she moaned like a harlot, rocking her hips weakly in time with his deep thrusts. Every slap of Ropes' hips drove the dragoness into the duvet and forced her to swallow to avoid the tentacle-cock in her muzzle from hitting her gag reflex. Every ounce of stimulation was swiftly driving Ropes to the edge, however; even a demon could not hold out forever. The scent of sweat and arousal flooded the room, driving both to greater heights of ecstatic passion. His pale eyes glowed in the dark and he laid his body over the dragoness, pumping and snarling furiously.

Ropes' body tensed and he clenched his jaw, ears flattened, as he climaxed, drowning in a pulse of raw sensation. He ducked his head, muscles brutally taut as he fought not to make a sound, for a cougar scream of ecstasy would surely raise Fyr from her sleep. Helena rocked beneath his body, moaning and lapping along his tentacle-cock, the cougar emptying his balls into her hot depths, cock throbbing rhythmically. The tentacle-cocks spurted lines of cum a moment later, two covering her breasts, belly and back with slick cream as they writhed. Helena gasped, sucking on the one silencing her muzzle, swallowing every salty, creamy drop and feeling warm cum pour into her tail hole, not a dribble escaping her tightness.

Drained and, at last, satisfied, the pair collapsed into one another, Ropes' tentacles sliding away, drained by activity. The dragoness wriggled on to her side, the tip of her tail absently stroking her father's back. Smiling as one that had achieved another conquest, Ropes held her to his chest, paws warm on her breasts. It was the perfect end to the day of teasing, even if time had advanced to the early hours of the next day. It was worth it.

"Ropes?"

They froze, huddled into each other's warmth. Fyr called out again, her tone confused, likely at finding Ropes absent in the middle of the night.

"That's my cue," Ropes kissed Helena's nose. "Try not to attack me in bed with Fyr next time, okay?"

Sexually exhausted, Helena could only nod weakly, head lolling back on top of the askew pillows. Draping a blanket over her prone form, Ropes quietly left the room, shutting the door afterwards. Fyr sat up in bed, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

"Where were you?" She murmured as the nude cougar slid between the sheets at her side.

"Just had to go to the bathroom, dear," Ropes smiled to himself, surprised at his own need rising. Fyr lay down, bare breasts revealed above the sheets and wings folded neatly to the side. She was a long awaited gift simply waiting to be unwrapped. Who was he to refuse such an offer?

The dragoness squeaked, her breasts suddenly fondled by a feline paw. Nipping her neck just to hear her groan, Ropes moved his body dominantly over hers, pressing her into the bed. Fyr wrapped her arms around her husband's body, claws digging in lightly in anticipation of passion. The dragoness writhed under the assault, tail curling round to be willingly caught by Ropes' tentacles, the feel of them shifting into cocks making her tremble, held fast. Ropes hissed eagerly, trapping Fyr's lips in a deep kiss as he spread her legs wide, nudging them apart with his own. His cock grazed her pussy lips and he arched his back, teasing the dragoness with tantalising touches that induced her to shivers of pleasure. Ropes smiled, sliding her buttocks into his paws and giving a slow thrust forward, easing his cock into his dragoness.

"Oh..." Fyr groaned, pushing up her hips. "Take me, Ropes!"

He was not a cougar to deny and drove the rest of her shaft between her folds with a feral growl. The dragoness cried out passionately, ducking her muzzle against her lover's neck as she was filled to the brim, Ropes' balls slapping gently against her rear. Fervent with ardour, the cougar thrust roughly, taking his mate as only a demon could, growling and yowling like a wildcat. Fyr's breath was harsh against his neck and she extended her wings to their full span, moaning openly with unashamed pleasure. A shudder ran through the cougar's strong back, paws groping her large breasts, still firm even with age. She was lustful, she was his. Ropes yowled.

What you don't know, love, he thought, tail lashing. What you don't know drives me into your arms. Who said secrets were bad? A smirk crossed his muzzle.

It's just a father daughter thing.