A Hum-dinger
A quickie request for Duo the Raven
Pan leaned back onto the headboard, the iridescent feathers on the back of his head flattening against his skull. His nude form stretched out on front of his eyes, and was a sight to behold: jewel tones of every color covered his torso and limbs, the minute feathers glinting in the light from his bedside lamp. Being a fiery-throated humming bird meant that Pan's dominant color was green, but only barely. Blues and purples blended together up his abdomen, and his chest and neck exploded with a riot of orange, red and yellow. But just because the avian was rainbow colored didn't mean he was gay, which is what he told himself on a regular basis. After all, if it was with yourself then it only counted as masturbation... right?
He drew a slender, claw-tipped finger through the plumage of his front until it encountered a warm slit at his crotch. Pan had always thought birds had the better end of the deal when it came to junk: he never had to worry about getting caught in a zipper or squishing anything important while riding his bike, though sitting to pee was a bit of a bother. As he mused about his anatomy, a particular part of it nudged its way into view. The pointed tip was brushed by tiny feathers as it passed out of his cloaca and encountered the slight chill of the air. Once the respectable seven inches were revealed, Pan gripped his member with a strong grasp, his breath hitching a little with the initial sensation.
The slight lubrication provided by his cloaca was enough to have his digits gliding along the stiff length and, as his arousal grew, little drips of pre rolled down from the tip to join his fingers in their dance. Pan now began to increase speed in short bursts, calling on the ancestral flight muscles to pump his slick fist far faster than any average fur could. His breath now came in pants as the pleasure from his shaft pinged in his brain like a pinball machine. The colorful avian was rapidly approaching the plateau of orgasmic bliss, when he suddenly stopped all movement.
Pan now squeezed his member firmly at the base, where it emerged from his hot slit, and flexed the stiff length through his tight grasp. Even more blood filled the pink length, and he could see the rhythmic throbs that echoed the thumping heartbeat in his ears. Even in this he had an advantage left over from a more miniscule evolutionary past: his heart beat twice as fast as any mammal of his size, inflating his cock with even greater speed.
Being so close to his breaking point, it was time to bring out the big guns. The hot and bothered bird opened his beak and leaned forward, his spine creaking as he stretched to its limits. While he couldn't quite reach the object of his intentions like a canine, he had something that was much better in his opinion. You see, hummingbirds have bifurcated tongues with tiny extensions along their length and, while Pan's wasn't nearly as impressive as his feral cousin's, he did have the perfect tool for a stellar blow job.
The narrow appendage slid out from his parted beak and dropped down to the pulsing shaft, the two forks sliding down around the length to form a tight, slick cage. With his back still propped against the headboard, Pan began to slowly hump his hips upward, penetrating his tongue with staccato thrusts. Again he brought his speedy reflexes to the party, and the avian's member blurred through the saliva-soaked appendage. A slightly muffled groan escaped Pan's beak as the delightful sensation of receiving head combined with the unique pleasure of giving it. He could taste the slight muskiness of his own pre, which was now rolling out of his tip at a steady rate, and the sensation of the ultra-smooth flesh slipping along his tongue was absolutely wonderful.
The springs in the mattress had by now gone beyond squeaking, and were protesting in a steady squeal. Tiny beads of sweat were beginning the gather under the bright bird's feathers, and they began to stick to the skin on his back and shoulders. And still the breakneck pace continued, Pan's hips jerking to a tempo more likely to be found in a heavy metal song than the bedroom. He squeezed his eyes shut, allowing the physical sensations to dominate his consciousness, the intense pleasure shooting a kaleidoscope of fireworks onto the dark backdrop of his eyelids.
At last, his lungs burning for oxygen and his muscles nearing the end of their endurance, Pan felt the welling inside that signaled his imminent release. In a final free-for-all, the avian rammed his cock into his tongue forks with the speed of one possessed until, with an echoing cry, his seed burst forth. The thick, pale droplets shot upwards and peppered his beak and neck with pearlescent speckles, while larger spurts submitted to gravity and pooled in the purples and blues of his abdomen.
The twitching hummingbird reached down and again grasped his member, slowly drawing it from the warm cocoon of his tongue forks. The smooth, sensitive skin prickled as it was exposed to the cooler air once more, and dribbled in seeming protest. He shifted down on the bed until his head could rest on the bunched up pillow, and sighed in utter relaxation. The spent and shrinking shaft lay flat against his belly, gleaming with the product of his efforts.
"Yep," thought Pan drowsily, "I'm definitely not gay. But I sure give a damn good blow job!"