Griffon's Treasure
by John FCCF Poseyabout 3 hours ago
•long read•hot intensityThe private cabin on the Lillien Knights’ ship rocked gently with the night waves. B. Jenet leaned against the polished wooden desk, the slit of her purple dress riding high on one toned thigh, the skull-and-crossbones emblem on the skirt half-hidden in the low lantern light. Her long blonde hair spilled over one shoulder. Blue eyes glittered with open hunger as she watched the towering figure fill the doorway.
Tizoc had removed his griffin mask. Without it his face was still striking—strong jaw, dark eyes, the disciplined intensity of a man who lived for the roar of a crowd. At seven-foot-one and two hundred sixty pounds of solid muscle, he made the cabin feel small. His wrestling tights hugged every powerful line of his body, and the thick outline of his cock pressed hard against the fabric.
“You summoned me for a private strategy meeting, Captain?” His voice was deep, still carrying that theatrical edge even now.
Jenet’s smile was pure mischief. “Strategy can wait. I’ve been watching those massive hands of yours all tournament. Time I felt them somewhere more interesting than a chokehold.”
She pushed off the desk and closed the distance. Her fingers traced the ridges of his abdomen, then lower, cupping the heavy bulge. Tizoc’s breath hitched. She squeezed, feeling the thick shaft twitch under her palm.
“Take them off,” she ordered softly.
He peeled the tights down. His cock sprang free—long, thick, veined, the heavy head already glistening. Jenet’s eyes widened with open appreciation. She sank to her knees without hesitation, wrapping both hands around the shaft. Her tongue dragged slowly from base to tip, tasting the clean salt of his skin, then closed her lips around the swollen head and sucked.
Tizoc’s head fell back with a low groan. One massive hand settled on her blonde hair, not forcing, just holding. Jenet worked him with deliberate hunger—long, wet strokes of her mouth, tongue swirling under the ridge, cheeks hollowing as she took him deeper. Spit slicked the shaft. She moaned around the thickness, the vibration making his hips jerk. Her free hand cupped his heavy balls, rolling them gently while she bobbed, the wet sounds of oral sex filling the cabin.
She pulled off with a soft pop, stroking him with both fists, looking up. “You taste better than any treasure I’ve ever stolen.”
Tizoc hauled her up easily, spinning her so her back pressed to his chest. His hands shoved the purple dress up over her hips. She wore nothing underneath. His thick fingers slid between her thighs and found her already soaked pussy, two digits sinking deep. Jenet gasped, grinding back against his hand as he curled those fingers and rubbed firm circles over her clit with his thumb.
“Fuck—yes—” she breathed, hips rolling.
He turned her, lifted her onto the edge of the desk, and dropped to one knee. Those big hands spread her thighs wide. His tongue dragged up her slick folds in one long, greedy lick, then locked onto her clit and sucked. Jenet’s head fell back, a sharp cry tearing from her throat. He ate her like a man starved—tongue thrusting into her pussy, lips sealing around her swollen clit, two thick fingers pumping in and out while he licked. Her thighs trembled around his head. She came hard, pussy clenching around his fingers, a rush of wetness coating his tongue and chin.
Before the last tremor faded he stood, cock in hand, and rubbed the thick head up and down her dripping slit. Jenet hooked her legs around his waist.
“Put it in me. All of it.”
He pushed forward. The broad head stretched her open, inch after thick inch sinking into her tight, wet heat until he was buried to the root. Both of them groaned. Tizoc stayed deep for a long moment, letting her adjust to the stretch, then began to thrust—slow, powerful strokes that made the desk creak.
Jenet’s nails dug into his shoulders. “Harder. I won’t break.”
He gave her exactly that. Hands gripping her hips, he drove into her with the same controlled power he used in the ring—deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of his cock along her inner walls. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the cabin. Jenet met every thrust, her pussy clenching greedily around him. He shifted, lifting one of her legs higher, changing the angle so the head of his cock rubbed that perfect spot inside her on every stroke. Her moans turned into broken cries.
He pulled out, flipped her easily onto her stomach over the desk, and sank back into her from behind in one smooth thrust. The new position let him go even deeper. One big hand reached around to rub her clit while he fucked her hard and steady. Jenet’s blonde hair spilled across the wood as she pushed back to meet him, the wet sounds of her pussy taking every thick inch of his cock echoing around them.
“God, you’re so fucking deep—” she gasped.
Tizoc growled, hips snapping faster. He pulled her upright, her back to his chest, still buried inside her, and walked them a few steps to the narrow bed. He sat, keeping her impaled, then lay back so she straddled him reverse. Jenet planted her hands on his thick thighs and rode him hard, bouncing on his cock, the wet slap of her ass against his hips loud and filthy. He reached around, one hand on her breast, the other rubbing her clit in tight circles. She came again, pussy fluttering and squeezing around his shaft, a fresh rush of wetness soaking his balls.
He flipped them once more, putting her on her back, legs spread wide and draped over his massive arms. Tizoc drove into her with long, powerful strokes, watching her face, watching the way her blue eyes glazed and her mouth fell open. The cabin filled with the wet rhythm of cock slamming into pussy, the creak of the bed, their shared ragged breathing.
“Inside,” Jenet demanded, voice rough. “Fill me. I want every drop.”
Tizoc’s rhythm broke. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of cum pumping deep into her pussy in heavy pulses. Jenet’s walls clenched around him, milking every spurt as the hot flood of his creampie filled her. Some of it leaked out around his still-twitching cock, dripping down her thighs onto the sheets.
He stayed inside her, breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers. Jenet’s fingers traced the lines of his shoulders, a satisfied, wicked smile on her lips.
“Next strategy meeting,” she murmured, “we start with you on your back.”
Tizoc laughed low, the sound rumbling through both of them, and kissed her—deep, claiming, the taste of her still on his tongue. Outside, the ship rocked on, carrying its captain and her wrestler toward whatever horizon they chose next.
Tizoc had removed his griffin mask. Without it his face was still striking—strong jaw, dark eyes, the disciplined intensity of a man who lived for the roar of a crowd. At seven-foot-one and two hundred sixty pounds of solid muscle, he made the cabin feel small. His wrestling tights hugged every powerful line of his body, and the thick outline of his cock pressed hard against the fabric.
“You summoned me for a private strategy meeting, Captain?” His voice was deep, still carrying that theatrical edge even now.
Jenet’s smile was pure mischief. “Strategy can wait. I’ve been watching those massive hands of yours all tournament. Time I felt them somewhere more interesting than a chokehold.”
She pushed off the desk and closed the distance. Her fingers traced the ridges of his abdomen, then lower, cupping the heavy bulge. Tizoc’s breath hitched. She squeezed, feeling the thick shaft twitch under her palm.
“Take them off,” she ordered softly.
He peeled the tights down. His cock sprang free—long, thick, veined, the heavy head already glistening. Jenet’s eyes widened with open appreciation. She sank to her knees without hesitation, wrapping both hands around the shaft. Her tongue dragged slowly from base to tip, tasting the clean salt of his skin, then closed her lips around the swollen head and sucked.
Tizoc’s head fell back with a low groan. One massive hand settled on her blonde hair, not forcing, just holding. Jenet worked him with deliberate hunger—long, wet strokes of her mouth, tongue swirling under the ridge, cheeks hollowing as she took him deeper. Spit slicked the shaft. She moaned around the thickness, the vibration making his hips jerk. Her free hand cupped his heavy balls, rolling them gently while she bobbed, the wet sounds of oral sex filling the cabin.
She pulled off with a soft pop, stroking him with both fists, looking up. “You taste better than any treasure I’ve ever stolen.”
Tizoc hauled her up easily, spinning her so her back pressed to his chest. His hands shoved the purple dress up over her hips. She wore nothing underneath. His thick fingers slid between her thighs and found her already soaked pussy, two digits sinking deep. Jenet gasped, grinding back against his hand as he curled those fingers and rubbed firm circles over her clit with his thumb.
“Fuck—yes—” she breathed, hips rolling.
He turned her, lifted her onto the edge of the desk, and dropped to one knee. Those big hands spread her thighs wide. His tongue dragged up her slick folds in one long, greedy lick, then locked onto her clit and sucked. Jenet’s head fell back, a sharp cry tearing from her throat. He ate her like a man starved—tongue thrusting into her pussy, lips sealing around her swollen clit, two thick fingers pumping in and out while he licked. Her thighs trembled around his head. She came hard, pussy clenching around his fingers, a rush of wetness coating his tongue and chin.
Before the last tremor faded he stood, cock in hand, and rubbed the thick head up and down her dripping slit. Jenet hooked her legs around his waist.
“Put it in me. All of it.”
He pushed forward. The broad head stretched her open, inch after thick inch sinking into her tight, wet heat until he was buried to the root. Both of them groaned. Tizoc stayed deep for a long moment, letting her adjust to the stretch, then began to thrust—slow, powerful strokes that made the desk creak.
Jenet’s nails dug into his shoulders. “Harder. I won’t break.”
He gave her exactly that. Hands gripping her hips, he drove into her with the same controlled power he used in the ring—deep, rolling thrusts that dragged every inch of his cock along her inner walls. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the cabin. Jenet met every thrust, her pussy clenching greedily around him. He shifted, lifting one of her legs higher, changing the angle so the head of his cock rubbed that perfect spot inside her on every stroke. Her moans turned into broken cries.
He pulled out, flipped her easily onto her stomach over the desk, and sank back into her from behind in one smooth thrust. The new position let him go even deeper. One big hand reached around to rub her clit while he fucked her hard and steady. Jenet’s blonde hair spilled across the wood as she pushed back to meet him, the wet sounds of her pussy taking every thick inch of his cock echoing around them.
“God, you’re so fucking deep—” she gasped.
Tizoc growled, hips snapping faster. He pulled her upright, her back to his chest, still buried inside her, and walked them a few steps to the narrow bed. He sat, keeping her impaled, then lay back so she straddled him reverse. Jenet planted her hands on his thick thighs and rode him hard, bouncing on his cock, the wet slap of her ass against his hips loud and filthy. He reached around, one hand on her breast, the other rubbing her clit in tight circles. She came again, pussy fluttering and squeezing around his shaft, a fresh rush of wetness soaking his balls.
He flipped them once more, putting her on her back, legs spread wide and draped over his massive arms. Tizoc drove into her with long, powerful strokes, watching her face, watching the way her blue eyes glazed and her mouth fell open. The cabin filled with the wet rhythm of cock slamming into pussy, the creak of the bed, their shared ragged breathing.
“Inside,” Jenet demanded, voice rough. “Fill me. I want every drop.”
Tizoc’s rhythm broke. He buried himself to the hilt and came hard, thick ropes of cum pumping deep into her pussy in heavy pulses. Jenet’s walls clenched around him, milking every spurt as the hot flood of his creampie filled her. Some of it leaked out around his still-twitching cock, dripping down her thighs onto the sheets.
He stayed inside her, breathing hard, forehead pressed to hers. Jenet’s fingers traced the lines of his shoulders, a satisfied, wicked smile on her lips.
“Next strategy meeting,” she murmured, “we start with you on your back.”
Tizoc laughed low, the sound rumbling through both of them, and kissed her—deep, claiming, the taste of her still on his tongue. Outside, the ship rocked on, carrying its captain and her wrestler toward whatever horizon they chose next.