A Gryphons Proposal

Content warning: this is a piece of gay male erotica between a human and a gryphon.

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Dearest,

My apologies for this messy scrawl. A gryphon's beak is a wonderful tool for so many things, but holding a quill isn't one of them.

This is Dusk writing, from the third heavy wing squadron. You've probably already found the feather I tucked inside this letter. It's one of mine, freshly plucked this morning, in case your memory needs a little push in the right direction. Remember me yet? I'm sure you do. You saw me yesterday, at the ceremony, and I know I made an impression. How could I not, kitted out in my finest formal armour, with every plate and buckle gleaming, and my beak polished to a fine shine? I saw you looking at me and my fellow gryphons - but mostly at me - as you and your fellow men marched past. And then I saw you look away and blush.

Let me tell you a thing about gryphons. We can read human emotions as clearly as you can read these very words. So I know exactly how much you liked what you saw. And I know exactly the direction your imagination wandered. There's really not the slightest point in trying to deny it.

Don't worry, I'm not offended. Not in the least. We're not prudish creatures; me least of all. And I liked what I saw too. Here's another thing about gryphons: in some ways, we're uncomplicated creatures. When we see something we like, we take it.

So when would you like me to take you?

It can't be here in the camp. There are too many eyes and ears about. You know as well as I that physical entanglements are forbidden in the service, let alone one between two males... and that's before we even consider that I'm gryphon and you're human. A triply forbidden tryst. And doesn't that just make it triply delicious?

But don't worry, we won't be caught. I know a place where our privacy will be absolute. A small green copse so little known it doesn't even have a name. Nothing we did there could possibly be overseen, from the ground or from the air. And it's so remote that no-one would overhear us, even if we screamed out in rapture as loud as our lungs could bear. Which is fortunate, considering.

We should go there separately, to avoid suspicion. I'm sure a resourceful warrior like yourself will have no trouble slipping past the guards. A mile beyond the palisade, where the Painted River wheels sharply to the left, a small brook joins it on the right hand side. Follow that brook and you'll come eventually to our copse. In the very centre of the copse is a clearing. It's a most beautiful place in daylight and even more beautiful in moonlight, with the only sounds the rustling of leaves, the hoots of night birds and the gentle whisper of the brook. The mossy ground is soft but dry at this time of year, almost inviting you to roll about on it and play. And the brook is sweet and fresh, to refresh any thirst and clean up any mess from skin or feather.

It'll be the first time you see me out of my armour. I'm quite a sight in moonlight. My feathers are as black as the night sky, but mottled with a grey as fine as woven starlight. And my eyes reflect the slightest illuminance to shine like unearthly beacons.

It'll be the first time I see you out of your uniform as well. In my imagination you appear in the clearing as perfectly naked as a wave-washed pebble, and with a body every bit as rounded, firm and smooth. And if my imagination is wrong, and you arrive fully clothed... well, we can soon fix that.

If you're concerned I'll leap upon you and ravish you in some animalistic frenzy, don't be. I won't do that. At least, not on our first meeting. I'm a considerate gryphon, and you'll be tired from your journey. The night is a long one, and there'll be time enough for ravishing later. Besides, I'm an old romantic at heart, and I enjoy a good snuggle before a good rut.

I am of course a little bigger than you. But I think, if I lie down on my flank then you could snuggle up very nicely with your back pressed against my feathery chest and your buttocks against my underbelly. Then I can drape a talon around your shoulders and slide a paw between your thighs, and blanket a wing over your naked body to keep away the cold. Most comfortable for us both, I'm sure.

I doubt that you can understand the tongue of gryphons, and you'll know that I can't vocalise the tongue of man. So I won't be able to talk to you as we lie entwined under the stars. But you can talk to me, and I'll listen. And I can bend my beak to your ear and tell you how sweet your voice is, and how perfect your body, and how heady your scent, even if you can't understand a word. As for how you make the blood run hot through my loins, you won't need me to tell you that. The feel of my rough tongue lapping at your cheek and my throbbing cock nudging against your lower back will tell you everything you need to know.

When you tire of just snuggling, know that this gryphon likes to be touched. If you've never felt a gryphon's plumage before, prepare to be pleasantly surprised: it's thick, and warm, and sensuously soft. Choose a patch of feathers - any at all - comb your fingers, dig them in deep, stroke back and forth and listen to me croon in pleasure. A firm stroke is best. Whatever you do, don't be shy; know that no part of me is off limits to you. My neck is a good places to start if you're unsure. My plumage there is luxuriously thick, and I'm so delightfully ticklish around my throat that if you stroke me there I'll arch back my neck, open my beak and warble like a songbird. Or, if you prefer, you can take a paw in your hands and tickle my toes, and I'll purr like a pussycat. But of course, the one place I dream of feeling your cunning human fingers wander more than anywhere else is between my hind legs. Stroke me down there and I promise you I'll roar like a gryphon.

I think you'll like my balls. They're full and round, and covered in a soft grey down that - in moonlight - makes them stand out against my dark plumage like two fuzzy full moons. Please, be my guest. Touch them. Stroke them. Cup them in your palms. Squeeze them. Push your nose between them and inhale their odour, if that's what takes your fancy. And when you've explored my balls to your satisfaction, go ahead and let your attention drift forwards to my sheath.

Probably you've seen a gryphon's sheath before, but possibly you've never seen what hides inside. You won't have to wait long to find out. As soon as your naked body graces my presence there's nothing on this Earth that could stop my cock from slipping out to honour you. In moonlight it looks like a spear of silver: smooth, straight-shafted and proud, with a streamlined head tapering to a point that oozes a glistening wetness. Lap at that wetness with your tongue and you'll find it tastes like a sunset reflected over rippling ocean waves.

While you dote on my body, please don't imagine for a moment that I'll neglect yours. We gryphons may not have hands, but we do have other gifts. Have you ever felt a gryphon's tongue trace an expert line of wet warmth up the contours of your inner thigh? Or felt a gryphon's hot breath against your throat while his claws comb downwards through your pubic hair? Or felt a gryphon's beak close around your swollen manhood while his tongue inflicts tender torment on its tip? You will feel all these things, I can promise you that. These and many more.

But these things are mere appetisers. For me, the main course of any night of intimacy is, and always must be, a good hard fuck.

I don't know your preferences. Who will fuck whom? I'm a flexible gryphon. I leave it entirely up to you.

Let's imagine first that you are to fuck me. I will plant my paws and talons in the soft earth, fold my wings, raise my hind quarters and surrender myself to you. Picture it. The black bulk of my rump, with the shining moons of my balls, and a stripe of pale silver fur leading all the way up to the dark star of my anus. My tail raised high, waving seductively. Picture the gleaming rings of my eyes and the black shadow of my beak peering back at you in pleading submission as you take your place behind me, your manhood firm and ready. Picture your fingers dipping beneath me and coming up thickly smeared with the slippery cum that drips generously from my cock at the very thought of you. Picture those fingers sliding inside my pucker, backwards and forwards, making me purr and ripple as you work my own lubricant into its every tuck and crevice. Picture your hands now coming to rest on my hips, digging deep into my feathers as you find a firm grip either side of my rump. Picture how little effort it would take to push your hips forwards and feel that soft, slippery rump parting around you.

Picture yourself buried deep, deep inside me, as deep as you can possibly go. Picture the heat of me around your shaft, the tickle of feathers pressed hard against your thighs, groin and balls.

Picture the noises we could make together as you hump yourself into me, over and over, harder and harder, until you spill your liquid lust into my passages in a series of hot, wet, heavenly squirts.

That's one option, then. But how about the other? What if you would prefer for me to give and you to receive?

I'd take you lying on your back, on the bank by the stream. I'd lie you down there, make sure you were nice and comfortable, then I'd lift your legs up into the air, revealing your buttocks to my hungry eyes. I'm picturing the scene right now. Delicious. I don't think I'd be able to resist - how could I resist - dropping my beak to nose into your butt, nudging my nostrils close in against your pucker and inhaling deeply. Mmmmmm.

Then, to business. I'd take position over you, with my paws either side of your buttocks and my talons... I think I'd plant my talons right on top of your chest. Don't worry, it won't hurt. Much.

I like this position best, because I can look down into your eyes as I penetrate you. And you can look up into mine. I look forward to watching your face as I push myself in through your tight sphincter. It'll be quite the sensation for you; I doubt you'll ever have felt its like before. I'm a bit bigger than most humans, so expect a tight fit. It'll go in, don't worry about that, but it'll be tight. Wonderfully, exquisitely tight.

Once I've squeezed myself all the way into you up to the hilt - and you've had time to enjoy the feeling of a big gryphon cock buried inside you - I'll start to fuck. We'll go nice and slow and steady. You can wrap your legs around my hips, if you'd like, and one arm around my shoulders. With the other arm you can perhaps reach up to stroke my beak as I hump you. I'll spread my wings out over us, blocking out the night sky, and all you'll see is the twin circles of my eyes above you as I fuck, fuck, fuck your rear until with a shudder I release myself inside you in a long, hot, wet, pulsing deluge.

And then, when we've got our breath back, I'll fuck you all over again. Only this time I won't go steady. This time I'll fuck you like an animal.

So there's your two options. Take your pick. Of course, it's not either or. We could do one, then the other, then the first one again. Or we could dream a dozen new possibilities, and try them out one after another. I leave it all up to you. As long as your gorgeous body is wrapped around my own, I'll be a happy gryphon.

How about tomorrow night?

If you're interested, just give me a nod when you pass my squadron in the morning. That's all it takes. Just give me a nod, and I'll give you a night you'll never, ever forget.

Yours Intimately,

Dusk