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"description": "One of this year's Kinktober sketches extended to double its initial length! Riley the otter is stumbling through the park after a party, takes a fun nude selfie alongside a gargoyle that, for some reason, just ~happens~ to be there... but then, it's night time, and being a gargoyle...",
"description_bbcode_parsed": "One of this year's Kinktober sketches extended to double its initial length! Riley the otter is stumbling through the park after a party, takes a fun nude selfie alongside a gargoyle that, for some reason, just ~happens~ to be there... but then, it's night time, and being a gargoyle...",
"writing": "Riley pressed his paw against the surface of the stone, the texture rough and cool beneath his pawpads. He wobbled there for a moment, all of the night’s booze still sloshing through him, then finally managed to straighten up – and just as quickly leaned back in against the figure crouching here by the side of the path. The hunched shoulders, the rigid posture, the full wings folded partially around the body; knees bent to either side of the body, sharp-clawed hindfeet prickling down into the grass with equally sharp-clawed hands positioned right in between, with the deeper nooks and crannies devolving into shadow made thicker in the night; then of course the head, vaguely animalistic, vaguely humanoid, with the exaggerated features, the hooked nose, the sharp teeth, the pointed ears… the open mouth, the dangling tongue.\n\nThe otter straightened up again, blinked, then looked one way along the sidewalk and then the other. Who the fuck – puts a gargoyle in a public park? he thought, then shifted closer. Right here, of all places? But… I mean…\n\nThe idea had hit him as soon as he saw the figure crouched over here, even before knowing it was just a statue made of stone. As such, it took little time for him to drop his paw back down to finish unbuttoning his pants fly so he could draw the zipper down, and then flop his shaft and balls out into the cool stillness of the night; I’ll have to… poke Lukas tomorrow about my underwear, he thought, idly running his fingers back and forth across himself; his foreskin was still nice and slick from the tongue-work he had received at the party. Girlfriend gave me that pair, and she has a matching one, and… she’ll be upset if I lose it, and…\n\nOn legs slightly unsteady from the events of the night Riley scooted closer, hoisted himself up onto his tiptoes, then flopped his shaft across the gargoyle’s muzzle bridge. There was that cool roughness again, drawn out a bit against such sensitive skin; he pushed forward and then drew back, then lifted up a little bit further to scoop his paw underneath his balls and drop those across the snout as well. Riley leaned back, tilted his head, frowned, looked closer, then giggled to himself.\n\nYeah. One paw clamped on the back of the gargoyle’s head between its horns, he reached into his pocket to fish out his phone. Yeah, that’s perfect. They’ll love that.\n\nHe winced against the brightness of the screen, blinked the reflexive tears out of his eyes, then adjusted the angle so the selfie would capture his face as well as the gargoyle’s, with him resting hefty and limp over the top. I hope I leave a fuckin’ grease stain, he thought as he drew back – then shivered with that rough texture dragging along the back of his sack. The otter paused to investigate if any fur had been pulled, fingers poking and prodding; then he crouched down a bit and this time gave himself a few strokes, casting surreptitiously around the park in case he had any unknown audience.\n\nAfter everything that had happened at the party tonight it was no wonder that with each tug back he could smell himself a bit, his familiar rich, warm musk wafting up to tickle at his nose and putting him right back in that luxurious mindset. He swallowed, leaned back, and briefly forgot where he was and what he was doing as he stroked himself, forefinger and thumb right there at the rim of slick skin, working himself in rhythm just before the gargoyle’s sizeable, permanently flared nostrils. Wish I could be you, he thought then, angling his phone screen in to help illuminate what he was doing.\n\nFrom there Riley crouched over a little bit further, felt the burn in his haunches, nudged forward… and rested his now half-hard cock across the gargoyle’s ridged tongue, and held it there while he lined up the shot. Then he had to put himself back in place after a roil of laughter bubbled up through him at his first attempt at the picture, so he made sure to take a second, and a third, and a fourth, each from a different angle and pose: he couldn’t quite fit his balls between the statue’s jaws, and he was still a bit too buzzed to crouch over and press his rump against its muzzle, though he was surprised that nobody had broken the protruding tongue off already.\n\nHe straightened up, satisfied with his work, and tapped through his phone to send the shots – then froze when the feeling of rough stone dragged across the underside of his still half-hard length. From in front of and beneath him came the sound of rock scraping across itself, and he thought he wobbled with another wave of dizziness from the alcohol with the way the gargoyle’s head rocked and shifted against his thigh.\n\nThen, though, the roughness continued across the underside of his cock, and dragged up across hypersensitive flesh, and then finally teased in underneath the rim of his foreskin. He gritted his teeth, gasped, and tried to jerk back… but even as he did so the rough stoniness dissolved into something closer to genuine muscle and flesh, and soon cool, humid breath puffed out across his bare waist, like a draft wafting through an open cavern. Stone crackled further; wings previously graven flexed, stretched, folded up along the back; tightly muscled shoulders and arms stretched, lifted, reached up towards his waist, grabbed him there, and held him in place-\n\n-and Riley stared down at the opened eyes of the gargoyle, glistening with living moisture in the light of the night, his phone still held in his other paw. He swallowed through his opened mouth, blinked, tried to tug back – and felt the gargoyle’s grip tighten on his waist, and the thing’s tongue slip further beneath his foreskin, coiling around, poking in at the underside hidden within.\n\nThe otter glanced out to the horizon. They turn to stone only in the daylight, right? he thought, and swallowed again. I hope to fucking God that that’s true- and then just as quickly gasped again when those previously stone jaws clamped gently shut around him, supple lips squeezing in around his length, diving down.\n\nAt first the beast maintained a slow, steady pace as though remembering how to use its body, muscles and tendons and whatever else might be inside of it waking up after the full day’s petrification. Despite himself, still glancing around the darkening park for any sign of an unwanted audience. Riley’s ears flicked back and he couldn’t help but thrust forward into that cavernous mouth, his phone falling forgotten at his side.\n\nYeah, he thought, moving in rhythm with the gargoyle’s bobbing. Yeah, sure, I’ll… fuck a statue’s mouth, I’ll…\n\nThen, though, those long-clawed hands reached up, scraped through the fur bared beneath the waist of his pants, tugged them down a little bit further – and the otter gasped yet again as the gargoyle suddenly squeezed at his rump, long fingers reaching in to brush across, poke at, and then pull near his tailhole, at once spreading him while at the same time it yanked itself down onto his shaft. Riley yelped as he was pulled off-balance, both paws coming down to press against the thing’s head for support when it dove fiercely down onto him, blunted nose pressing into his pubic fur; he felt the back of its tongue squishing up underneath his cock, the movements of its throat as it sucked and slurped and swallowed, and the hungry, eager breaths still cool, still moist.\n\nOr I guess I- Riley winced, teeth gritting, as the thing drew all the way back, audibly gulped, and then dove right back down again, saliva-slickened lips pulling back to show frighteningly sharp, stony teeth. -won’t, and… it’ll fuck its own mouth on me. Yeah. Sure. That’s… definitely a thing that’s happening tonight, and I…\n\nBefore long he started to be able to feel the low, rumbling growl of pleasure deep within the creature’s throat… and every time it slid all the way back down onto him, the skin – leather? Stone? What even the fuck is it now? – of its snout wrinkling back with the effort and the closeness, he could feel that rumble through his hard length as well. Again and again it slurped around him, the long, thick tongue swirling and curling, drawing up towards his head, pushing at the sensitive rim of skin, caressing it back, drawing it forward again. Then the gargoyle drew back, swallowed, and took a moment to suckle away at him, its grip remaining tight around the otter’s haunches.\n\nThen again, and again, and again, almost seeming as though it wanted to drive its head through its victim’s poor groin, nudging in and nuzzling deep, cool breaths puffing out among curls of pubic fur and dripping down his balls like more lines of drool. Riley grunted, hands on the back of the gargoyle’s head in a feeble attempt to try to steady its pace, his back arching with each bob downwards; he shivered, panted, pushed forward, squared his stance for support as those fingers nestled beneath his rudder.\n\nFeels like he’s… He clenched his jaw, feeling his peak approaching from a distance through the thick fog of inebriation. Trying to… juice my asscheeks like an orange…\n\nBit by bit he came closer and closer, sensitivity sparkling, pleasure washing across him in sharp, sudden waves. He couldn’t help but bend forward over the gargoyle’s head, nearly tucking the thing underneath him; his phone clattered to the sidewalk, he arched his back and gritted his teeth, he gasped, groaned, moaned, thrust… pulsed, pulsed again, nearly lost his balance with the kicking of one leg as that sweet, rich peak blasted through him-\n\n-and then actually did, though the gargoyle’s grip on his rump steadied his fall so that it could easily climb over him while the otter still writhed and moaned with the aftershock of his finish. I can’t… He swallowed again, mouth dry, and looked up to the deepening night sky around the statue’s silhouette. Believe that… a fucking park decoration just… made me cum. What in the world is his-\n\nThe gargoyle crept over him, blocking out the light from one of the lamps overhead. Riley swallowed, squirmed, struggled to catch his breath… and then followed as the creature straightened up, worked its arms up and back, and then slid one hand down between its legs.\n\n...Her. She. She’s…\n\nThose long fingers splayed down along either side of a smooth, succulent genital slit, somewhat plump and glistening with the beast’s own arousal. There was that low, deep rumble again, like cement grating across stone, like the precursor to a low-magnitude earthquake; she flicked her tongue out across her chops, lapping off a thick dribble of white from Riley’s finish a second before, and then again audibly swallowed.\n\n“Hey, okay, I’m…” The otter raised his paws in defense, only for the gargoyle to lean forward and bat one of them away. She pulled herself closer, dragging her hind end across his belly and chest. One finger slid smoothly between the folds of those plumped lips, smacking softly with the natural, slick wetness inside; cold stony grey flashed briefly to rich, warm pink inside, glistening with the reflected light from the lamp above her. “Look, I’ve got somewhere to be, tonight, so if you could… just…”\n\nThe gargoyle then jutted herself forward, nearly grinding herself against his muzzle. Riley blinked and turned his head to the side, only for her to return that hand to that same spot between his ears; she rumbled again, pulled him forward, gave a little thrust… and he took in a slow, deep breath of her scent, of course like rain-wet stone struck through with a touch of heated moss. He swallowed again, blinked up at her – the gargoyle tilted her head, cold eyes sharp – and then tilted his head again, pursed his lips against hers… flicked his tongue out, slipped it a little deeper, slurped back into his mouth. Tasted like rock and salt, and a little bit of something more.\n\nIt wasn’t so bad, really. Riley shifted, closed his eyes… closed his mouth on her, and began to suck softly. I guess I do owe her...",
"writing_bbcode_parsed": "Riley pressed his paw against the surface of the stone, the texture rough and cool beneath his pawpads. He wobbled there for a moment, all of the night’s booze still sloshing through him, then finally managed to straighten up – and just as quickly leaned back in against the figure crouching here by the side of the path. The hunched shoulders, the rigid posture, the full wings folded partially around the body; knees bent to either side of the body, sharp-clawed hindfeet prickling down into the grass with equally sharp-clawed hands positioned right in between, with the deeper nooks and crannies devolving into shadow made thicker in the night; then of course the head, vaguely animalistic, vaguely humanoid, with the exaggerated features, the hooked nose, the sharp teeth, the pointed ears… the open mouth, the dangling tongue.
The otter straightened up again, blinked, then looked one way along the sidewalk and then the other. Who the fuck – puts a gargoyle in a public park? he thought, then shifted closer. Right here, of all places? But… I mean…
The idea had hit him as soon as he saw the figure crouched over here, even before knowing it was just a statue made of stone. As such, it took little time for him to drop his paw back down to finish unbuttoning his pants fly so he could draw the zipper down, and then flop his shaft and balls out into the cool stillness of the night; I’ll have to… poke Lukas tomorrow about my underwear, he thought, idly running his fingers back and forth across himself; his foreskin was still nice and slick from the tongue-work he had received at the party. Girlfriend gave me that pair, and she has a matching one, and… she’ll be upset if I lose it, and…
On legs slightly unsteady from the events of the night Riley scooted closer, hoisted himself up onto his tiptoes, then flopped his shaft across the gargoyle’s muzzle bridge. There was that cool roughness again, drawn out a bit against such sensitive skin; he pushed forward and then drew back, then lifted up a little bit further to scoop his paw underneath his balls and drop those across the snout as well. Riley leaned back, tilted his head, frowned, looked closer, then giggled to himself.
Yeah. One paw clamped on the back of the gargoyle’s head between its horns, he reached into his pocket to fish out his phone. Yeah, that’s perfect. They’ll love that.
He winced against the brightness of the screen, blinked the reflexive tears out of his eyes, then adjusted the angle so the selfie would capture his face as well as the gargoyle’s, with him resting hefty and limp over the top. I hope I leave a fuckin’ grease stain, he thought as he drew back – then shivered with that rough texture dragging along the back of his sack. The otter paused to investigate if any fur had been pulled, fingers poking and prodding; then he crouched down a bit and this time gave himself a few strokes, casting surreptitiously around the park in case he had any unknown audience.
After everything that had happened at the party tonight it was no wonder that with each tug back he could smell himself a bit, his familiar rich, warm musk wafting up to tickle at his nose and putting him right back in that luxurious mindset. He swallowed, leaned back, and briefly forgot where he was and what he was doing as he stroked himself, forefinger and thumb right there at the rim of slick skin, working himself in rhythm just before the gargoyle’s sizeable, permanently flared nostrils. Wish I could be you, he thought then, angling his phone screen in to help illuminate what he was doing.
From there Riley crouched over a little bit further, felt the burn in his haunches, nudged forward… and rested his now half-hard cock across the gargoyle’s ridged tongue, and held it there while he lined up the shot. Then he had to put himself back in place after a roil of laughter bubbled up through him at his first attempt at the picture, so he made sure to take a second, and a third, and a fourth, each from a different angle and pose: he couldn’t quite fit his balls between the statue’s jaws, and he was still a bit too buzzed to crouch over and press his rump against its muzzle, though he was surprised that nobody had broken the protruding tongue off already.
He straightened up, satisfied with his work, and tapped through his phone to send the shots – then froze when the feeling of rough stone dragged across the underside of his still half-hard length. From in front of and beneath him came the sound of rock scraping across itself, and he thought he wobbled with another wave of dizziness from the alcohol with the way the gargoyle’s head rocked and shifted against his thigh.
Then, though, the roughness continued across the underside of his cock, and dragged up across hypersensitive flesh, and then finally teased in underneath the rim of his foreskin. He gritted his teeth, gasped, and tried to jerk back… but even as he did so the rough stoniness dissolved into something closer to genuine muscle and flesh, and soon cool, humid breath puffed out across his bare waist, like a draft wafting through an open cavern. Stone crackled further; wings previously graven flexed, stretched, folded up along the back; tightly muscled shoulders and arms stretched, lifted, reached up towards his waist, grabbed him there, and held him in place-
-and Riley stared down at the opened eyes of the gargoyle, glistening with living moisture in the light of the night, his phone still held in his other paw. He swallowed through his opened mouth, blinked, tried to tug back – and felt the gargoyle’s grip tighten on his waist, and the thing’s tongue slip further beneath his foreskin, coiling around, poking in at the underside hidden within.
The otter glanced out to the horizon. They turn to stone only in the daylight, right? he thought, and swallowed again. I hope to fucking God that that’s true- and then just as quickly gasped again when those previously stone jaws clamped gently shut around him, supple lips squeezing in around his length, diving down.
At first the beast maintained a slow, steady pace as though remembering how to use its body, muscles and tendons and whatever else might be inside of it waking up after the full day’s petrification. Despite himself, still glancing around the darkening park for any sign of an unwanted audience. Riley’s ears flicked back and he couldn’t help but thrust forward into that cavernous mouth, his phone falling forgotten at his side.
Yeah, he thought, moving in rhythm with the gargoyle’s bobbing. Yeah, sure, I’ll… fuck a statue’s mouth, I’ll…
Then, though, those long-clawed hands reached up, scraped through the fur bared beneath the waist of his pants, tugged them down a little bit further – and the otter gasped yet again as the gargoyle suddenly squeezed at his rump, long fingers reaching in to brush across, poke at, and then pull near his tailhole, at once spreading him while at the same time it yanked itself down onto his shaft. Riley yelped as he was pulled off-balance, both paws coming down to press against the thing’s head for support when it dove fiercely down onto him, blunted nose pressing into his pubic fur; he felt the back of its tongue squishing up underneath his cock, the movements of its throat as it sucked and slurped and swallowed, and the hungry, eager breaths still cool, still moist.
Or I guess I- Riley winced, teeth gritting, as the thing drew all the way back, audibly gulped, and then dove right back down again, saliva-slickened lips pulling back to show frighteningly sharp, stony teeth. -won’t, and… it’ll fuck its own mouth on me. Yeah. Sure. That’s… definitely a thing that’s happening tonight, and I…
Before long he started to be able to feel the low, rumbling growl of pleasure deep within the creature’s throat… and every time it slid all the way back down onto him, the skin – leather? Stone? What even the fuck is it now? – of its snout wrinkling back with the effort and the closeness, he could feel that rumble through his hard length as well. Again and again it slurped around him, the long, thick tongue swirling and curling, drawing up towards his head, pushing at the sensitive rim of skin, caressing it back, drawing it forward again. Then the gargoyle drew back, swallowed, and took a moment to suckle away at him, its grip remaining tight around the otter’s haunches.
Then again, and again, and again, almost seeming as though it wanted to drive its head through its victim’s poor groin, nudging in and nuzzling deep, cool breaths puffing out among curls of pubic fur and dripping down his balls like more lines of drool. Riley grunted, hands on the back of the gargoyle’s head in a feeble attempt to try to steady its pace, his back arching with each bob downwards; he shivered, panted, pushed forward, squared his stance for support as those fingers nestled beneath his rudder.
Feels like he’s… He clenched his jaw, feeling his peak approaching from a distance through the thick fog of inebriation. Trying to… juice my asscheeks like an orange…
Bit by bit he came closer and closer, sensitivity sparkling, pleasure washing across him in sharp, sudden waves. He couldn’t help but bend forward over the gargoyle’s head, nearly tucking the thing underneath him; his phone clattered to the sidewalk, he arched his back and gritted his teeth, he gasped, groaned, moaned, thrust… pulsed, pulsed again, nearly lost his balance with the kicking of one leg as that sweet, rich peak blasted through him-
-and then actually did, though the gargoyle’s grip on his rump steadied his fall so that it could easily climb over him while the otter still writhed and moaned with the aftershock of his finish. I can’t… He swallowed again, mouth dry, and looked up to the deepening night sky around the statue’s silhouette. Believe that… a fucking park decoration just… made me cum. What in the world is his-
The gargoyle crept over him, blocking out the light from one of the lamps overhead. Riley swallowed, squirmed, struggled to catch his breath… and then followed as the creature straightened up, worked its arms up and back, and then slid one hand down between its legs.
...Her. She. She’s…
Those long fingers splayed down along either side of a smooth, succulent genital slit, somewhat plump and glistening with the beast’s own arousal. There was that low, deep rumble again, like cement grating across stone, like the precursor to a low-magnitude earthquake; she flicked her tongue out across her chops, lapping off a thick dribble of white from Riley’s finish a second before, and then again audibly swallowed.
“Hey, okay, I’m…” The otter raised his paws in defense, only for the gargoyle to lean forward and bat one of them away. She pulled herself closer, dragging her hind end across his belly and chest. One finger slid smoothly between the folds of those plumped lips, smacking softly with the natural, slick wetness inside; cold stony grey flashed briefly to rich, warm pink inside, glistening with the reflected light from the lamp above her. “Look, I’ve got somewhere to be, tonight, so if you could… just…”
The gargoyle then jutted herself forward, nearly grinding herself against his muzzle. Riley blinked and turned his head to the side, only for her to return that hand to that same spot between his ears; she rumbled again, pulled him forward, gave a little thrust… and he took in a slow, deep breath of her scent, of course like rain-wet stone struck through with a touch of heated moss. He swallowed again, blinked up at her – the gargoyle tilted her head, cold eyes sharp – and then tilted his head again, pursed his lips against hers… flicked his tongue out, slipped it a little deeper, slurped back into his mouth. Tasted like rock and salt, and a little bit of something more.
It wasn’t so bad, really. Riley shifted, closed his eyes… closed his mouth on her, and began to suck softly. I guess I do owe her...",
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