Júbilo-kun and Friendia Creampie Match
by John FCCF Poseyabout 1 hour ago
•long read•hot intensityAfter a tense away game at Saitama Stadium, the crowds thinned and the floodlights dimmed. Friendia lingered near the tunnel, her tall pointed ears twitching, the big red ribbon between them slightly askew. Her bright grass-green fur caught the last of the light, cream muzzle soft, blue eyes half-lidded. The red polo shirt clung to her full chest, the white athletic skirt riding high on her thick thighs.
Júbilo-kun found her there. His royal-blue feathers were still damp with sweat from the performance. The sky-blue jersey with the Yamaha logo sat tight across his chest, white shorts loose on his hips. His crest feathers stuck up at a messy angle. He stopped a step away, beak parting.
“You played hard today,” he said, voice low.
Friendia’s tail—usually hidden under the skirt—gave a slow, deliberate swish. “You stared the whole second half.”
He stepped closer. “Hard not to.”
She reached out first. Her green-furred hand pressed flat against the front of his shorts. The soft plush of her palm found the thick ridge of his cock already half-hard, straining against the fabric. Júbilo-kun’s breath hitched. He pushed into her touch, letting her feel the full length of him thickening under her fingers.
They slipped into an empty equipment room just off the tunnel. The door clicked shut. Friendia backed against a stack of cones, pulled him in by the jersey, and kissed him—beak to soft muzzle, tongues meeting. She tasted like stadium snacks and adrenaline. His hands slid under her skirt, cupping the full curves of her ass through the white fabric. No panties. Just warm green fur and the hot, slick seam of her pussy already wet.
She broke the kiss and dropped to her knees on the concrete floor. Júbilo-kun’s cock sprang free when she tugged his shorts and underwear down. Thick, veined, the head flushed dark, already leaking a clear bead of precum. Friendia wrapped both green hands around the shaft, stroked once from base to tip, then leaned in and dragged her tongue up the underside. She closed her blue eyes and took the head into her mouth.
Wet heat. Soft suction. She bobbed slowly, taking more of his cock with every pass, her tongue swirling under the ridge. Saliva coated him, shiny in the dim light. One hand stayed wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth; the other cupped his balls, rolling them gently. Júbilo-kun’s claws flexed against the wall behind her. Soft chirps and low groans spilled out of him as she took him deeper, until the tip nudged the back of her throat and she swallowed around him.
“Fuck—Friendia—”
She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock. “You taste good,” she murmured, then went back down, faster this time, cheeks hollowing. She worked him with focused, hungry rhythm—long slides, tight suction, the occasional graze of her teeth that made his hips jerk. Pre-cum mixed with her saliva, dripping down her chin onto the red polo.
When he was fully hard and throbbing against her tongue, she stood, turned, and braced her hands on a low bench. She flipped the white skirt up over her back, presenting the plush green curves of her ass and the swollen, glistening lips of her pussy. The cream fur of her lower face wasn’t the only soft place on her; the fur framing her entrance was damp and inviting.
Júbilo-kun stepped in behind her. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down her slit, coating himself in her wetness. Friendia pushed back, seeking more. He notched against her entrance and sank in with one steady thrust.
She was tight, hot, and soaked. Her pussy stretched around the thick girth of him, walls fluttering as he bottomed out. Both of them groaned. He gripped her hips—blue feathers against green fur—and started to fuck her in deep, rolling strokes. The wet slap of skin and fur filled the small room. Every thrust pushed a soft, needy sound from Friendia’s throat. She rocked back to meet him, taking every inch.
He reached around and found her clit with two fingers, rubbing firm circles while he pounded into her. Her legs trembled. “Harder,” she gasped. “Don’t hold back.”
He gave her harder. The bench creaked. His cock drove deep, dragging against her inner walls, the head kissing her cervix on the deeper strokes. Friendia’s ears flattened, ribbon bouncing. She came first—pussy clenching hard around him, a rush of fresh wetness soaking his shaft and balls. She cried out, muffling it against her forearm, body shaking through the orgasm.
Júbilo-kun didn’t stop. He kept fucking her through it, chasing his own release. When her aftershocks faded he pulled out, turned her around, and lifted her onto the edge of the bench. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He slid back into her pussy in one smooth motion and resumed thrusting, face to face this time. Her green arms locked around his neck. Their mouths met again—messy, open, sharing breath and soft moans.
He shifted the angle, grinding deep and slow, then switched to short, sharp snaps of his hips. Friendia’s second orgasm built fast. She came again with a broken whimper, walls milking his cock in rhythmic pulses. The tight, rhythmic squeeze tipped him over.
Júbilo-kun buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick ropes of cum pumped deep into her pussy, flooding her in long, pulsing spurts. He kept rocking through it, grinding every drop inside her. When the last tremor faded he stayed locked in, cock still twitching, the excess already starting to leak out around his shaft in a creamy white trail that dripped down onto the bench.
They stayed like that for a long minute, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. Friendia’s blue eyes were half-lidded, satisfied. She clenched around him once more, just to feel the wet heat of his creampie shift inside her.
“Next home game,” she murmured against his beak, “my place after. Longer. No rush.”
Júbilo-kun’s crest feathers were completely ruined. He smiled, still buried inside her, and gave one slow final thrust that made fresh cum spill out around him.
“Deal.”
Júbilo-kun found her there. His royal-blue feathers were still damp with sweat from the performance. The sky-blue jersey with the Yamaha logo sat tight across his chest, white shorts loose on his hips. His crest feathers stuck up at a messy angle. He stopped a step away, beak parting.
“You played hard today,” he said, voice low.
Friendia’s tail—usually hidden under the skirt—gave a slow, deliberate swish. “You stared the whole second half.”
He stepped closer. “Hard not to.”
She reached out first. Her green-furred hand pressed flat against the front of his shorts. The soft plush of her palm found the thick ridge of his cock already half-hard, straining against the fabric. Júbilo-kun’s breath hitched. He pushed into her touch, letting her feel the full length of him thickening under her fingers.
They slipped into an empty equipment room just off the tunnel. The door clicked shut. Friendia backed against a stack of cones, pulled him in by the jersey, and kissed him—beak to soft muzzle, tongues meeting. She tasted like stadium snacks and adrenaline. His hands slid under her skirt, cupping the full curves of her ass through the white fabric. No panties. Just warm green fur and the hot, slick seam of her pussy already wet.
She broke the kiss and dropped to her knees on the concrete floor. Júbilo-kun’s cock sprang free when she tugged his shorts and underwear down. Thick, veined, the head flushed dark, already leaking a clear bead of precum. Friendia wrapped both green hands around the shaft, stroked once from base to tip, then leaned in and dragged her tongue up the underside. She closed her blue eyes and took the head into her mouth.
Wet heat. Soft suction. She bobbed slowly, taking more of his cock with every pass, her tongue swirling under the ridge. Saliva coated him, shiny in the dim light. One hand stayed wrapped around the base, stroking in time with her mouth; the other cupped his balls, rolling them gently. Júbilo-kun’s claws flexed against the wall behind her. Soft chirps and low groans spilled out of him as she took him deeper, until the tip nudged the back of her throat and she swallowed around him.
“Fuck—Friendia—”
She pulled off with a wet pop, strings of spit connecting her lips to his cock. “You taste good,” she murmured, then went back down, faster this time, cheeks hollowing. She worked him with focused, hungry rhythm—long slides, tight suction, the occasional graze of her teeth that made his hips jerk. Pre-cum mixed with her saliva, dripping down her chin onto the red polo.
When he was fully hard and throbbing against her tongue, she stood, turned, and braced her hands on a low bench. She flipped the white skirt up over her back, presenting the plush green curves of her ass and the swollen, glistening lips of her pussy. The cream fur of her lower face wasn’t the only soft place on her; the fur framing her entrance was damp and inviting.
Júbilo-kun stepped in behind her. He rubbed the head of his cock up and down her slit, coating himself in her wetness. Friendia pushed back, seeking more. He notched against her entrance and sank in with one steady thrust.
She was tight, hot, and soaked. Her pussy stretched around the thick girth of him, walls fluttering as he bottomed out. Both of them groaned. He gripped her hips—blue feathers against green fur—and started to fuck her in deep, rolling strokes. The wet slap of skin and fur filled the small room. Every thrust pushed a soft, needy sound from Friendia’s throat. She rocked back to meet him, taking every inch.
He reached around and found her clit with two fingers, rubbing firm circles while he pounded into her. Her legs trembled. “Harder,” she gasped. “Don’t hold back.”
He gave her harder. The bench creaked. His cock drove deep, dragging against her inner walls, the head kissing her cervix on the deeper strokes. Friendia’s ears flattened, ribbon bouncing. She came first—pussy clenching hard around him, a rush of fresh wetness soaking his shaft and balls. She cried out, muffling it against her forearm, body shaking through the orgasm.
Júbilo-kun didn’t stop. He kept fucking her through it, chasing his own release. When her aftershocks faded he pulled out, turned her around, and lifted her onto the edge of the bench. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He slid back into her pussy in one smooth motion and resumed thrusting, face to face this time. Her green arms locked around his neck. Their mouths met again—messy, open, sharing breath and soft moans.
He shifted the angle, grinding deep and slow, then switched to short, sharp snaps of his hips. Friendia’s second orgasm built fast. She came again with a broken whimper, walls milking his cock in rhythmic pulses. The tight, rhythmic squeeze tipped him over.
Júbilo-kun buried himself to the hilt and came hard. Thick ropes of cum pumped deep into her pussy, flooding her in long, pulsing spurts. He kept rocking through it, grinding every drop inside her. When the last tremor faded he stayed locked in, cock still twitching, the excess already starting to leak out around his shaft in a creamy white trail that dripped down onto the bench.
They stayed like that for a long minute, breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. Friendia’s blue eyes were half-lidded, satisfied. She clenched around him once more, just to feel the wet heat of his creampie shift inside her.
“Next home game,” she murmured against his beak, “my place after. Longer. No rush.”
Júbilo-kun’s crest feathers were completely ruined. He smiled, still buried inside her, and gave one slow final thrust that made fresh cum spill out around him.
“Deal.”