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Guzzled by a Gryphon

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

The gryphon was tall, so tall that he had to be the height of a small skyscraper, though that had never bothered Keith any time that he had sought out Deacon. Deacon could have flown anywhere he wanted with his black-feathered, monstrous wings but the booming macro gryphon preferred to walk everywhere, though the townspeople often complained about him going around naked. A public display like that, however, was not something that someone could easily get a macro gryphon like Deacon to ease down from, so they just put up with it.

But there were a few kinkier nuances to be had, Keith, a man who could not have felt more like an ant, standing there before the gryphon outside town’s borders. It was the best place for him to meet up with the macro gryphon, though his time with the gryphon, kept from all harm and protected by Deacon’s magic, was not conventional to many that knew him.

Still, it was his choice as an odd feeling of both heaviness and weightlessness overcame him, going higher and higher and higher as the gryphon picked him up. In the distance, the sun set over the hills, but the tiny, nude man with a hard cock betraying his true desire, didn’t think, with a pleasurable shiver, that he would get to see the sun go down that day. He’d be too busy elsewhere – somewhere much darker and sultrier.

After all, there was nothing romantic about what he wanted to do with Deacon, the gryphon picking him up between a finger and a thumb, dwarfed by the beast’s hand. The gryphon laughed, though Keith did not catch the words in his amusement – something about him coming back for more?

Oh, but of course… Keith all but melted into the gryphon’s touch, vertigo catching him, lurching in his stomach, yet he was not going to worry about the world that he had left behind, back down on the ground. He was where he needed to be, doing what he needed, grunting, moaning, his cock drooling the faintest hint of pre-cum. Of course, he could not be as productive as so many others, much less when he had seen how much Deacon could cum too when he was in the mood, but he would lust for the show of it all the same.

The gryphon’s huge, yellow beak opened, stark in an expanse of black feathers and sharply calculating green eyes. Deacon’s magic might have protected Keith, but the gryphon never did anything without there being something in it for him. Maybe that edge of never truly knowing how far the gryphon macro was going to take it was what truly made it work for Keith.

Who was to say?

Yet the warmth of the gryphon macro’s maw was beyond belief all over again, a huge tongue swirling around him, so big that it was several times his size. There was no worry at all of him coming up against the edges of the gryphon’s beak in such a position, for he was more than small enough to be dwarfed in there, tucked away safe and sound.

But the thickness of that tongue had him wriggling madly, relishing in the wetness of it, how it swirled over him, under him, the tongue teasing wetly between his thighs, even over his backside. There was no limit as to what that tongue could do to him, his hand grasping his cock as if he needed the extra stimulation, which he didn’t. The biggest problem for Keith, in the span of the gryphon’s beak, was in holding back, in letting his experience in there last for as long as possible.

“Rrrrrr…”

Deacon rumbled a growl around him, unable to talk with a mouth full of human unless he wanted to gulp him down prematurely, but what Keith was really there for was to have the choice of it taken from him. He didn’t need to think, didn’t need to do anything else, all he had to do was to submit, to luxuriate in the warmth of the gryphon’s maw, how tightly that beak closed, slotting together, blocking out all daylight.

He was where he wanted to be, impervious to the real world, twisting, rolling, played about the inside of the gryphon’s mouth as if he meant nothing at all to him. Not even his orgasm was within his control as Keith groaned deep in the back of his throat, Deacon seeming to delight in showing him how powerless he was in there. There didn’t need to be anything else, anything different, only for pleasure to be had, the predator taking the prey, even if the prey was so very willing under such circumstances.

He was dimly aware of the bliss of orgasm, but it was hard to tell how hard he was cumming when such pleasure swamped him, sensation after sensation butting heads up against another to take dominance and precedence. He moaned and turned, splaying his hands out on the gryphon’s tongue, but, all of a sudden, the darkness of his throat was rushing up to meet him.

Helpless, all Keith could do was cry out in orgasmic bliss, willingly and wantonly disappearing down the gryphon’s throat, disappearing from a world that had accepted him, in some way, as he was, even though he wanted something more. He could be okay down there, squirming through the gryphon’s throat, time seeming to slow down so that every moment was dragged out in stark definition.

The feel of muscles pulsing around him, as they had done so many times before.

The symphony of gut sounds rumbling up to him from the gryphon’s stomach.

The slickness of saliva easing his path down.

His orgasm pulsing forth, rolling over and over him, hammering through his body until Keith hardly felt there was anything left of him at all.

Down there, he was safe, thought he had to trust the gryphon to take care of him, even as he disappeared, whimpering, climaxing, the trip all the way down the gryphon’s long throat a deliciously tedious one. He cried out, though there was no one there to hear him, only Deacon groaning, satisfied, rubbing his gut, as Keith finally dropped into his stomach, where he belonged.

There he would remain until the gryphon used magic to release him again, though Keith hoped it would not be for a good, long time.

He wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.