For Fern, the mating is just a flurry of thrusting beast and ripe, stimulating smells.  The former is shocking in its ferocity and extent.  The latter steals into her vulnerable senses and licks them wet.<br/><br/>For Miaren, it is much, much more.<br/><br/>It is endless, but not uniform.  The force of it continues without end; the rhythm varies.  Sometimes, the griffon is thrusting so hard that the tail is bouncing up and down, pistoning her ass, while the phallus inside her roots so deep as to dent her belly down.  Other times, he is almost gentle, working its penis around in her, churning and caressing.  Fiery feelings flock up and do not diminish.  And always, there is the lapping of the fur against her clitoris, stroking it with devilish speed and loving constancy.<br/><br/>The thump of its haunches washes through her, and the lean of its body curves hers down to rut the grass.  The edge of its beak skims her neck, dripping rumbling purrs and steamy breath.  The feathered fringe of its maw nuzzles her cheek, her mouth, her ear.<br/><br/>Soon, though, the thickness of the penis in her changes.  It grows dense and stuffs with scintillating fluid.  Its veins begin to ripple.  And the prong of it flattens, as though something within is going to push out.<br/><br/>Then, suddenly, the prong catches the fold of her cervix's opening.  The griffon ceases his hammering; he begins to thrust short and delicate.  The pronged tip forks against Miaren's womb, eases it wider and wider.  Slowly, it slides in.  It roots in the tender antechamber of her uterus.  It lodges.<br/><br/>It locks.<br/><br/>And locked in Miaren, the griffon begins to rock, stirring and stimulating.<br/><br/>And to Fern, the mating takes on another aspect - as a wide lump bulges the flesh between the griffon's legs, like an egg, moving down the tube of its implanted penis with excruciating, almost imperceptible slowness.<br/><br/>