Fron-ta x Marin: Dolphin-Seagull Creampie Sex
by John FCCF Poseyabout 3 hours ago
•long read•hot intensityAfter a heated J.League derby at Nissan Stadium, the rivalry between the blue dolphin and the tricolor seagull spilled off the pitch. The stadium emptied. The lights dimmed. In a quiet equipment room behind the stands, Fron-ta locked the door.
Fron-ta stood tall in his sky-blue jersey and dark shorts, smooth dolphin skin gleaming under the fluorescent light. His large cleats clunked as he stepped closer. Marin faced him in her blue jersey, white pleated skirt, and red bow, cream-colored feathers ruffled, yellow beak parted in a mix of defiance and heat. Their clubs might be rivals, but tonight their bodies wanted something else entirely.
“You’re still talking shit after that loss?” Fron-ta rumbled, voice low. He reached out, gloved hands settling on her slender waist. Marin’s large blue eyes narrowed, then softened. She pushed her soft, mitten-like hands against his chest.
“You blue fish think you own the coast,” she shot back, but her hips shifted closer. “Prove it.”
Fron-ta kissed her hard—snout against beak, tongue sliding past her pink tongue. She tasted like salt air and victory denied. His hands slid under her jersey, finding the soft cream plush of her torso, then lower, lifting the pleated skirt. No panties. Her pussy was already slick, warm folds parting under his gloved fingers. He rubbed her clit in slow circles until her knees weakened.
Marin dropped to her knees on the concrete floor. She tugged his shorts and the utility belt down. His cock sprang free—thick, smooth, sky-blue shaft with a lighter underside, already half-hard and growing heavier in the cool air. She wrapped both hands around it, stroking from base to tip, feeling it pulse and thicken. Then she opened her beak and took the head into her mouth.
She sucked slowly at first, tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, then deeper. Fron-ta’s gloved hand rested on the back of her head, careful of the red bow, guiding her as she bobbed. Wet sounds filled the room—slurps, soft moans from her throat, his low groans. She took him deeper until her beak brushed the base, throat working around his cock. Spit ran down her chin onto her jersey. She pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him while looking up.
“Fuck my mouth properly,” she said. Fron-ta did. He thrust steadily, cock sliding between her lips, hitting the back of her throat. Marin took it, eyes watering slightly, hands gripping his thick thighs. She hummed around him, vibrating his shaft until his hips stuttered.
He pulled her up before he came. He stripped her jersey and skirt completely, leaving her in red socks and sneakers. Her slender body was fully exposed—soft cream skin, small breasts, the wet slit between her legs. Fron-ta shed the rest of his kit. He lifted her onto a stack of equipment crates, spread her thighs, and buried his face between them.
His tongue dragged long and slow through her pussy lips, then focused on her clit, circling and sucking. Marin’s hands gripped the edge of the crates, thighs trembling around his head. He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them while his tongue worked. She came hard the first time with a sharp cry, pussy clenching around his fingers, juices coating his snout.
Fron-ta stood, cock rigid and glistening from her mouth. He hooked her legs over his arms and lined up. The thick head of his cock pressed against her entrance. He pushed in slowly, stretching her open. Marin’s beak fell open in a long moan as inch after inch of dolphin cock filled her pussy. He bottomed out, hips flush against hers, and held still so she could feel every pulse.
Then he started thrusting—deep, steady strokes that made the crates creak. Marin wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into his back. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed. He leaned down and kissed her again while he fucked her, one hand pinching a nipple, the other holding her hip.
He pulled out, flipped her onto all fours on the crates, and entered her from behind. His hands gripped her waist as he drove in hard and deep. Marin pushed back to meet every thrust, red bow bouncing, feathers ruffled. The angle let him hit deeper; his cock rubbed against her front wall with every stroke. She reached back between her legs and rubbed her own clit.
“Harder,” she demanded. Fron-ta gave it to her—powerful thrusts that made her breasts sway and her voice break into gasps and curses. He reached around and rubbed her clit himself, fingers slippery with her wetness. Marin came a second time, pussy spasming tight around his cock, milking him.
He didn’t stop. He lifted her again, this time holding her against the wall, one of her legs hooked over his arm so he could fuck her standing. Gravity made every thrust sink deeper. Marin clung to his shoulders, face buried against his neck, moaning into his smooth skin. His cock pistoned in and out of her dripping pussy, the wet sounds loud and filthy.
Sweat and arousal slicked both of them. Fron-ta’s rhythm grew ragged. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, grinding. “I’m going to fill you,” he growled.
“Do it,” Marin panted. “Creampie me. Put it all inside.”
He thrust a few more times—hard, deep, final—and came. Thick ropes of cum pumped straight into her pussy, flooding her. He kept grinding through the orgasm, cock pulsing, more cum spilling out around the base and running down her thighs. Marin’s walls fluttered around him, squeezing every drop. He stayed buried until the last throb faded.
They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard. When he finally pulled out, a thick stream of white creampie leaked from her stretched pussy, dripping onto the floor. Marin reached down, scooped some of the mixture of their fluids with two fingers, and sucked them clean while watching him.
Fron-ta sat on the crates and pulled her into his lap. She straddled him, still messy between her legs. His cock, half-hard and shiny with cum, rested against her thigh. She kissed him slowly this time—less rivalry, more afterglow—then reached down and guided him back inside her cum-filled pussy for a slower, deeper second round.
This time they moved together without urgency. Marin rode him in long rolls of her hips, taking him to the root each time. Fron-ta’s hands cupped her ass, helping her rise and fall. He licked and sucked at her neck and the soft feathers at her collarbone. When she came again it was quieter, a long shudder that made her clench and drip more of his earlier load down his shaft. He followed soon after, adding a second thick creampie deep inside her.
Eventually they slowed. Fron-ta stayed inside her while they caught their breath. Marin rested her head against his chest, red bow slightly askew. Outside, the stadium was silent. Rivalry could wait until the next match. Tonight the dolphin and the seagull had settled things the only way that mattered—cock deep in pussy, oral and thorough fucking, and two heavy creampies left dripping from her.
They cleaned up as best they could with towels from the equipment room, got dressed, and slipped out separately into the night. But both knew the next time their clubs met, the real contest might start long after the final whistle.
Fron-ta stood tall in his sky-blue jersey and dark shorts, smooth dolphin skin gleaming under the fluorescent light. His large cleats clunked as he stepped closer. Marin faced him in her blue jersey, white pleated skirt, and red bow, cream-colored feathers ruffled, yellow beak parted in a mix of defiance and heat. Their clubs might be rivals, but tonight their bodies wanted something else entirely.
“You’re still talking shit after that loss?” Fron-ta rumbled, voice low. He reached out, gloved hands settling on her slender waist. Marin’s large blue eyes narrowed, then softened. She pushed her soft, mitten-like hands against his chest.
“You blue fish think you own the coast,” she shot back, but her hips shifted closer. “Prove it.”
Fron-ta kissed her hard—snout against beak, tongue sliding past her pink tongue. She tasted like salt air and victory denied. His hands slid under her jersey, finding the soft cream plush of her torso, then lower, lifting the pleated skirt. No panties. Her pussy was already slick, warm folds parting under his gloved fingers. He rubbed her clit in slow circles until her knees weakened.
Marin dropped to her knees on the concrete floor. She tugged his shorts and the utility belt down. His cock sprang free—thick, smooth, sky-blue shaft with a lighter underside, already half-hard and growing heavier in the cool air. She wrapped both hands around it, stroking from base to tip, feeling it pulse and thicken. Then she opened her beak and took the head into her mouth.
She sucked slowly at first, tongue swirling around the sensitive tip, then deeper. Fron-ta’s gloved hand rested on the back of her head, careful of the red bow, guiding her as she bobbed. Wet sounds filled the room—slurps, soft moans from her throat, his low groans. She took him deeper until her beak brushed the base, throat working around his cock. Spit ran down her chin onto her jersey. She pulled off with a wet pop, stroking him while looking up.
“Fuck my mouth properly,” she said. Fron-ta did. He thrust steadily, cock sliding between her lips, hitting the back of her throat. Marin took it, eyes watering slightly, hands gripping his thick thighs. She hummed around him, vibrating his shaft until his hips stuttered.
He pulled her up before he came. He stripped her jersey and skirt completely, leaving her in red socks and sneakers. Her slender body was fully exposed—soft cream skin, small breasts, the wet slit between her legs. Fron-ta shed the rest of his kit. He lifted her onto a stack of equipment crates, spread her thighs, and buried his face between them.
His tongue dragged long and slow through her pussy lips, then focused on her clit, circling and sucking. Marin’s hands gripped the edge of the crates, thighs trembling around his head. He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them while his tongue worked. She came hard the first time with a sharp cry, pussy clenching around his fingers, juices coating his snout.
Fron-ta stood, cock rigid and glistening from her mouth. He hooked her legs over his arms and lined up. The thick head of his cock pressed against her entrance. He pushed in slowly, stretching her open. Marin’s beak fell open in a long moan as inch after inch of dolphin cock filled her pussy. He bottomed out, hips flush against hers, and held still so she could feel every pulse.
Then he started thrusting—deep, steady strokes that made the crates creak. Marin wrapped her legs around his waist, heels digging into his back. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed. He leaned down and kissed her again while he fucked her, one hand pinching a nipple, the other holding her hip.
He pulled out, flipped her onto all fours on the crates, and entered her from behind. His hands gripped her waist as he drove in hard and deep. Marin pushed back to meet every thrust, red bow bouncing, feathers ruffled. The angle let him hit deeper; his cock rubbed against her front wall with every stroke. She reached back between her legs and rubbed her own clit.
“Harder,” she demanded. Fron-ta gave it to her—powerful thrusts that made her breasts sway and her voice break into gasps and curses. He reached around and rubbed her clit himself, fingers slippery with her wetness. Marin came a second time, pussy spasming tight around his cock, milking him.
He didn’t stop. He lifted her again, this time holding her against the wall, one of her legs hooked over his arm so he could fuck her standing. Gravity made every thrust sink deeper. Marin clung to his shoulders, face buried against his neck, moaning into his smooth skin. His cock pistoned in and out of her dripping pussy, the wet sounds loud and filthy.
Sweat and arousal slicked both of them. Fron-ta’s rhythm grew ragged. He buried himself to the hilt and stayed there, grinding. “I’m going to fill you,” he growled.
“Do it,” Marin panted. “Creampie me. Put it all inside.”
He thrust a few more times—hard, deep, final—and came. Thick ropes of cum pumped straight into her pussy, flooding her. He kept grinding through the orgasm, cock pulsing, more cum spilling out around the base and running down her thighs. Marin’s walls fluttered around him, squeezing every drop. He stayed buried until the last throb faded.
They stayed locked together for a long moment, breathing hard. When he finally pulled out, a thick stream of white creampie leaked from her stretched pussy, dripping onto the floor. Marin reached down, scooped some of the mixture of their fluids with two fingers, and sucked them clean while watching him.
Fron-ta sat on the crates and pulled her into his lap. She straddled him, still messy between her legs. His cock, half-hard and shiny with cum, rested against her thigh. She kissed him slowly this time—less rivalry, more afterglow—then reached down and guided him back inside her cum-filled pussy for a slower, deeper second round.
This time they moved together without urgency. Marin rode him in long rolls of her hips, taking him to the root each time. Fron-ta’s hands cupped her ass, helping her rise and fall. He licked and sucked at her neck and the soft feathers at her collarbone. When she came again it was quieter, a long shudder that made her clench and drip more of his earlier load down his shaft. He followed soon after, adding a second thick creampie deep inside her.
Eventually they slowed. Fron-ta stayed inside her while they caught their breath. Marin rested her head against his chest, red bow slightly askew. Outside, the stadium was silent. Rivalry could wait until the next match. Tonight the dolphin and the seagull had settled things the only way that mattered—cock deep in pussy, oral and thorough fucking, and two heavy creampies left dripping from her.
They cleaned up as best they could with towels from the equipment room, got dressed, and slipped out separately into the night. But both knew the next time their clubs met, the real contest might start long after the final whistle.