"...Maybe they're vegetarian?"

What follows is so obviously a sibling squabble it would be funny, were it not for the dagger-like claws placed on either side of your throat. The two largest, one red-feathered and the other clad in a darker hue of orange, quickly have their quills on end as they rapidly chitter at the other, their language as grating as it is shrill. Not to be outdone, the other three - not one of them even reaching the shoulders of the ones pinning you down - soon band together in their own indignant chorus. You haven't a clue what any of it means, but the nagging suspicion that it's over portion sizes has you thankful for every second of it. Between louder shouts and vehement flapping, none of their attention is on you, but it doesn't do you any good when their talons have bit into the stone itself. You try to think of a way out, but no escape route presents itself that doesn't end with you a head shorter and a stone lighter.

Unfortunately for you, the matter at hand seems to be settled when the tallest of the lot buffets the leader of the younger siblings hard enough to send her reeling backwards. The red-feathered (and red-haired, for that matter) one gives you a savage grin that leaves you feeling ill. The orange-colored harpy's eyes, however, taint your fear with a color of confusion. There's a glint of glee there that doesn't match the air of a predator, one that you can't understand. Not until, that is, her clawed foot slowly curls up, hovering over your oh-so-exposed vitals, and hooking under... your trousers?

Terror begins to turn to a stunned befuddlement as your privates are exposed to the mountain air. Her claws pull back with a sudden jerk, tearing the material open the moment nothing fleshy is in the way. Red-feather growls a low threat at Orange, who replies in kind before deferring to the largest and, you assume, the oldest sister. As the victorious harpy turns, she shares a private, smug grin before straddling your stomach. It's only then that a certain fact really sinks into your racing mind. You'd been slightly too preoccupied to notice beyond the most obvious before, but the harpy girls are naked - completely so. Only tufts of plumage serve to cover parts of their bodies, scattered in ways that seem to serve no other purpose than ornamentation. Nothing, not an inch of a body that would shame a city whore, is left to the imagination. As Red-feather lowers her body against yours, you feel her immediate heat against your crotch, followed by an unmistakable wetness. The natural reaction is immediate, and some part of your male instinct (never to be dissuaded by petty things like immediate **** and possible devourment) manages to raise a defiant erection.

Red's eyes widen in appreciation of the sight of your member pressing into her abdomen, rocking her hips forward to slide her damp slit over your rod. You can't help the sense of embarrassment that starts to come over you under the watchful eyes of the other four harpies, just as you can't deny the bizarre eroticism of the moment. Feathered legs squeeze at your thighs as Red, uninterested in any foreplay, pushes herself down on your rigid length. Her voice lets out a rolling, almost lyrical sigh as it slides inside, a feminine sound so universal that it hardens you even more. As she begins to bounce and roll her hips, you soon become a willing subject to her desire, your breath catching as the tempting body writhes on top of you. Her wings start to unfurl as her movements gradually lose control, lightly flapping as the pace becomes almost frantic. Her love-tunnel seems to grasp at you, demanding satisfaction as it tugs and grips, spreading its heat through your sore pelvis before freezing in a quivering release. Her face is intense, satisfaction apparent in her unfocused eyes as her feathers fluff outwards. You can feel your own body reacting to the sight of a woman so clearly pleasured on top of you, but she shivers and dismounts before it can amount to anything approaching a climax.

Your cock wobbles in the cool air, feeling exposed in more ways than one, until the orange-feathered harpy takes her sister's place. You spare a moment to look at her face, and the sight alone makes you throb under her shapely hips. There's a maturity to her features, clearer to you now that she's up close, enough that you wonder if you were wrong in thinking Red the eldest. More pressing to you now is the undisguised lust in her eyes. Where Red practically made your body a throne, Orange drapes her body over yours as she teases your member. Her supple breasts brush over your chest, tragically separated by your linen shirt, and that and her hooded gaze are almost enough to send you over the edge.

After a minute of unnaturally adept grinding, Orange gives into desire and slides her sopping pussy onto your dick. You can actually feel her arousal running down your skin, and hear it just as clearly as she actually gushes in an immediate orgasm. You half expect her to be finished like Red before her, but it only seems to spur her on. Delightful moans greet your ear, far more sensuous than Red's near-growls of pleasure, and as they fill your head you can't resist the urge to hold her any longer. You eagerly feel up her round, pliant backside and equally appealing hips, down to where her the soft skin of her thighs meets silky feather. The way she vibrates under your touch is arousing beyond words, and as you feel your release rapidly approach, you wonder if she ever came off her high to begin with. Perhaps in answer to your question, her core gives out and leaves her tits-down against your torso, chin digging into your shoulder as she cries out in a voice as undignified as it is euphoric. You don't stand a chance against that kind of treatment, and four fingers turn white as you grab onto the harpy, hips thrusting against hers, and empty your balls deep inside her. Your voices mingle as the moment stretches, and though your eyes are closed tight, all you can see is white.

The afterglow is as warm as the sex was passionate, and if it wasn't for the impatient chattering from behind you, you think Orange would be quite willing to continue laying face-down against your shirt. Her chest rises and falls in languid breaths and soft purrs until she finally rouses herself, snatch dripping with arousal and cum. Her wings brush playfully over your cheeks as she turns, and the knowing look she gives you sends blood rushing to your face. You almost return the smile before you're pounced on by two blurs of silver and gold, and any sight of her tawny wings are lost in the flurry.

The two younger she-birds seem too eager for their own good, one colliding with the other as they try to be the first to stuff your half-hard cock into their glistening holes. There's a fair bit of flapping and angry chattering, but apparently no compromise can be found, since you're soon treated to the sensation of twin pussies hugging either side of your member. Apparently this is enough to summon a second wind from your waning manhood, which is quickly coated with their mixed juices. Both Gold and Silver harpies teeter precariously as they hold themselves at such **** angles, their determined masturbation a testament to the strength of their lithe bodies, and their perky breasts rock gently as they hump against you. Despite the pleasant view, your eyes are instead drawn to their faces: like the rest of their bodies (with the exception of their coloration) they're almost identical in appearance and expression. Yet more arousing, however, is the intensity with which they're staring not at you, but at each other. As skin touches skin, your rod becomes an intermediary between the aroused nethers of the twin harpies. Wingtips brush against each other and knees gently knock as they squirm and gasp, pushing through one breathy orgasm to the next. They tire themselves out far quicker than your last partner, drooping forwards go lean against the other with an ease and closeness that matches the suspect display of "sisterly affection" from before.