Through a narrow frame of jade leaves, Fern spies the griffon and Miaren in their rutting.<br/><br/>The griffon's hips jack forward; the haunches of the beast join with the silken curve of Miaren's.  Her bottom's cheeks are parted by the press of scintillating fur.  Her anus' tender circle kisses at strands of the satin pelt as it is sealed beneath the thrumming of the griffon's belly.  She is buried below the slow rushing of the feline muscles, harnessed between its stout legs and surrounded by the heat, the thrilling odor, the restless and snug force of it.<br/><br/>And below, the moist slice of Miaren's sex is speared by the lean inch of a pointed prong of flesh: Flesh eagerly swollen; infused with a glutinous, liquid heat; splendidly slick with drizzling, pungent fluid; veined and smooth and raw.  The penis of the griffon nuzzles into the rim of Miaren's vagina, stuck into the gluey folds of the little envelope.  Twin points, rigid as branches but tensile and nervous with filled fluid, rake and lick at her socket.<br/><br/>They push in, probing and receding, stroking her hole, sliding down to skim her clitoris before bobbing back up in a rubbery flick back to her vagina.  They tease.  The beak teases her pulse with its deadliness.  The griffon breathes in, savors, nuzzles against its mate.