One at a time, please, Sign mutely instructed, waving the next pony forward. In contrast to the hustle and bustle of the backstage, the cue she tended was pretty well behaved. Roadies, as well as lighting and acoustic technicians, scampered to and fro, while she minded the line.
Initially, she’d been hired to promote the event and work the ticket booth for the symphony in which Octavia was starring, though apparently something had gone awry once the show had concluded. Somepony hadn’t shown up, or was perhaps exceedingly late, so one of the organizers had asked her to mind the meet-and-greet after the concert.
Honestly, Sign considered herself lucky to get a free ticket to the performance, so the additional work was icing on the cake. She had always been a huge fan of Octavia, so of course she leapt at the chance to be in close proximity to the instrumentalist. As far as she was concerned, the additional pay, while nice, was simply a bonus.
Though she hadn’t really gotten the opportunity to speak with the talented musician yet, she was keeping her hooves crossed. After the meet-and-greet was concluded, if she was lucky, she’d be able to snag an autograph and maybe a brief chat. Trying certainly couldn’t hurt, since she was stuck there for the duration.
Noticing a pony trot by, squealing and clutching a signed photo to her chest, Sign snapped from her reverie. Next, she casually ordered, the words flowing over her extended forelimb.
Sign was mute, unlike a great many ponies, but she was able to manage. Either in a gracious twist of fate, or perhaps by chance, her ability allowed her to effortlessly control an inky pigment on her fur. With but a thought, she could cause writing, illustrations, or any number of designs and scribbles to appear on or in her person. Regardless of the whys, the quirk let her live a life like anypony else.
Looking over at the line of excited fans, Sign took note of how many were left. Roughly a dozen ponies eagerly waited, talking with one another or simply taking in the sights of the backstage. With little else to do, she trotted over to Octavia’s table. Since the cue was relatively short and well behaved, she saw no reason she couldn’t idle by the star.
The earth pony’s coat was a smokey grey and her mane and tail were the tint of iron. Looking at her current visitor, Octavia’s genuine smile met her mulberry colored eyes. She was, by every definition, a gorgeous mare, yet her aesthetic was only part of her allure.
Soft spoken and delightfully proper, her accent was captivating - which was a shame, given her performances didn’t involve any singing. A cellist by trade, she was often employed to entertain parties, weddings, and even take part in larger orchestras. Interestingly enough, as renowned as she was, she resided in the quaint little town of Ponyville.
Sign sighed contentedly, watching the musician converse with the nearby fan. Pens, photos, and souvenirs lie neatly arranged atop the cloth covered table. It was mostly for show, since diehard enthusiasts brought their own mementos to get autographed, though a few chose to purchase a bauble or two.
“Hey, watch it!” a gruff voice blared, followed by a resounding clatter.
Everypony looked over, as one of the laborers dropped a crate of posters. Sign couldn’t be sure what had happened, but it looked like he’d nearly run into one of the stagehands. Memorabilia went clattering over the floor, making quite the mess and causing a lone marker to fall from the cellist’s table.
For whatever reason, Sign took note of the felt-tip pen’s disappearance and acted accordingly. Leaning forward, lifting the tablecloth and reaching for the sharpie, she went rigid. There, beneath the table’s surface, she was granted a view of Octavia’s lower half. Seated in a chair, with her back hooves on the floor, the mare casually attended to her followers, yet there was something off.
Between her hind legs, draped over the edge of her seat, sat a slate grey package. Sign blinked repeatedly, frozen in disbelief, trying to determine if her eyes deceived her. A pair of ripe nuts hung over the front of the chair, just below a sheath of wrinkled, velvety flesh. There was no mistaking it, Octavia was a dickmare.
There was no way Sign could have missed something as obvious before, which left her mind to wander. There were, as far as she knew, several types of potions or charms which allowed creatures to conceal or alter their appearance. If she had to guess, considering she’d never seen or heard anything about the instrumentalist having that sort of equipment, the mare chose to hide that bit of her anatomy while out and about.
Peeking back out, observing the chaos which unfolded backstage, an idea blossomed. She’d been given a once in a lifetime opportunity, one which she could possibly enact in a stealthy manner. With everypony preoccupied with the mess, conversing or assisting with the cleanup, nopony would notice if…
Knitting her brow, seizing the moment, Sign scampered under the table. The furniture was completely covered, concealing her presence entirely, so the chances of her being discovered were slim to none. The fact that she was incapable of vocalizing only aided in the matter, further reducing the chances of her being discovered.
Slinking forward, listening to the ruckus outside, her eyes locked on the anatomy before her. With her legs parted slightly, Octavia’s nethers were laid bare. It was, she had to shamelessly admit, a wonderfully raunchy situation. There she was, furtively being treated to an immaculate view of a star’s naughty bits. Inching closer, drinking in every detail of the dickmare’s loins, a singular aroma wafted to her nostrils.
Pausing, taking a deep breath, Sign practically swooned. Trapped beneath the cloth, with no circulation to speak of, the scent of Octavia’s privates hung heavily in the air. After the show, having spent nearly an hour performing for the masses, the instrumentalist had been unable to bathe, only magnifying her natural aroma.
Fortunately, the table was tall enough for her to move about freely, albeit awkwardly. Though she couldn’t quite stand to full height, she was able to crouch-walk under the piece of furniture. Sure, it may not have been the most comfortable place to be, but any inconvenience was utterly eclipsed by the scandalous circumstances in which she found herself.
Edging nearer to Octavia, Sign’s gaze never wavered from the dickmare’s groin. Her glacial pace ground to a halt, as her nose came within an inch of the dark package. The heady bouquet, stronger than ever, was joined by a subtle heat upon her snout. She stopped dead, realizing she’d reached a crossroads.
Sign had a choice; either she retreated, letting a unique chance slip through her hooves, or she seized the moment and made a bold move. It took her but the blink of an eye to come to a decision. Steeling her resolve, licking her lips, her face crept forward.
Pressing her snout to the delicate area betwixt the cellist’s sheath and balls, she inhaled through her nostrils. As soon as Sign made contact, Octavia flinched, leaving her paralyzed in apprehension. The dickmare started, her thighs clamping around her clandestine transgressor’s head, yet she made no move to flee.
Taking the lack of response as a blessing to proceed, Sign did just that. Opening her mouth, she dragged her tongue up one weighty testis and guided it into her maw. Gingerly rolling it about in her muzzle, delicately applying a bit of a vacuum, she awaited a reaction. Slowly, like a monster slithering from its lair, the flaccid length of stallionhood emerged from its confines.
Bit by bit, inch by inch, the limp appendage appeared. Sluggishly, roused from its slumber, the tool twitched and hardened. The gradual erection was a sight to behold, while it steadily raised up and swelled with blood. Bearing witness to such an act was captivating, though getting an up-close view was even more so.
Her heart skipped a beat, as Octavia’s shaft reached near full size. The thick, vascular cock that hung at the musician’s loins was, for all intents and purposes, a masterpiece given flesh; long and dusky, from girthy root to blunted tip, a pronounced vein traced its length. Sign sat mute, while she gazed upon the picturesque appendage. Truly, only a poet's words could do it justice, so overwhelming was its beauty.
Retracting her head, allowing the nut to loll from her mouth, she adjusted her position. Squaring herself directly between Octavia’s legs, staring down the mare’s dick, Sign extended a foreleg. Gently grasping the base of the tool, leveling it towards her face, she brought the blunt tip to her snout.
Sign’s mouth began to water, as she shuffled forward. The fat glans slid past her parted lips, as she sat on the ground, allowing her to caress the sensitive underside with her tongue. Taking care to fondle her partner’s balls, she tenderly worked the head in her muzzle. Her efforts were rewarded by a contented hum from above, but little else.
She had to assume that it wasn’t the first time Octavia had received surreptitious service, what with the absence of any sort of response - well, almost any response. Feeling something rub against her leg, Sign looked downward. Her partner’s hoof had drifted forward ever so slightly to brush against her. The silent blessing filled her with determination, signalling her to continue.
Closing her eyes, savoring the piquant unwashed flavor of the dickmare’s member, Sign skillfully bobbed and rocked her head from side to side. Stroking the shaft with her tongue, she gradually worked the sizable appendage into her maw. It wasn’t long before her taste buds were treated to their first drops of cloying, viscous pre-cum.
The salty, gooey substance was an achievement in and of itself, causing her marehood to hungrily clench. She’d always had a heavy inclination for oral, especially in regards to dickmares or stallions. The act of attending to another’s needs, using her muzzle, was a bittersweet irony. Despite the inability to speak, her mouth was more than functional for amorous affairs.
As the bloated tip of Octavia’s length bumped against her throat, Sign paused. Taking a lungful of air, she pressed forward. Relaxing herself, swallowing to aid in the endeavor, the shaft slipped into her esophagus. Though she couldn’t see it, she could feel her throat bulging outward at the intrusion.
The initial plunge, while brief, allowed Sign to warm up slightly. Exhaling though her nose, peeking outward, her gaze wandered up the meaty tool. She’d only managed to get roughly half of the thing into herself on the first try, but she was far from finished. Taking a second breath, she rammed her face forward.
Keeping one eye open, she kept note of her progress. With each inch that passed past her lips, the difficulty increased. Not only was the stallionhood considerably long, but it got progressively thicker towards the base. As the glans drove down her gullet, descending towards her stomach, she reached the medial ring.
In contrast to her hot, engorged marehood, Sign’s perseverance was unbreakable. Applying more force, jamming the ample ring of flesh into her muzzle, she continued her single minded pursuit to fully throat Octavia. Kissing the swollen band, forcing it into her maw, she reached the appendage’s trunk-like root.
As undeniably arousing as the experience was, her body struggled to cope. Screwing her eyes shut, feeling a tear roll down her cheek, Sign suffered through the final inches of her labor. Her nose bumped against the mare’s groin, marking her triumph. The victory, however, was short lived; as she went to withdraw, something grasped the back of her head.
Glancing over, she realized Octavia had decided to take a more active role in the furtive fellatio. Holding her in place, the mare shifted in her chair and drove her hips forward. Trapped with nowhere to go, Sign was driven back slightly, while the cellist swung a hind leg over her shoulder. One of the earth pony’s fetlocks rested on the back of her neck, effectively locking her in place.
Octavia moved slowly and methodically, squeezing Sign’s head between her sculpted thighs. Stuck in a leg-lock, with the entirety of cock plumbing her esophagus, Sign served as a sheath for the performer’s member. Choked of air, with little chance of escape, she was left with two options.
She could panic, using her magic or physical strength to break free, though that would unquestionably result in a rather disgraceful scene. Her other choice was to stay the course, pleasing the mare to finish. Reaching up, clasping one hoof to her partner’s rump, she let her actions speak for her.
Using what little freedom she had, Sign shifted her head back and forth. Swabbing her throat, wiping the silken underside of the prick with her tongue, she persisted in her efforts. Starved of oxygen, she was keenly aware of the moments dragging by. Lungs burning, heart thundering in her chest, and with her marehood winking of its own volition, she prayed she could outlast her partner.
As frightful as the situation was, it stroked some masochistic part of her. Knowing she was little more than a living toy for the dickmare’s pleasure was immeasurably arousing. The way Octavia subtly bucked her waist, while casually socializing and carrying on with her fans, only added to the downright sinful nature of the circumstances.
As the seconds ticked by, the survival-based portions of Sign’s brain ticked on. A tinge of panic entered her thoughts, as her esophagus spasmed and clenched around the immense tool occupying its confines. Willing her body to obey, her ministrations never ceased.
Fondling the mares testes with one hoof and massaging the shaft with her tongue, she pushed her snout forward to meet Octavia’s faint thrusts. Even with her eyes closed, she could sense her vision beginning to tunnel. The juxtaposition of fear and arousal was maddening, leaving her to wonder how it would end.
Strange, ethereal bubbles and shapes drifted across Sign’s hide, while her body subconsciously mirrored her breathless state. While a portion of her mind sought to survive, another yearned for release. Though she was vaguely aware of it, she rocked her hips and ground her marehood over the floor, smearing the cool surface with her juices.
As her limbs began to grow weary, and her consciousness started to fade, she sensed a unique pressure deep within her torso. The nuts in her hoof retracted slightly, snuggling to the mare’s groin and adding more weight to her assumption. With her mind in a haze, she desperately fought to keep from blacking out.
The tip of Octavia’s prick flared just shy the unicorn’s stomach, as the first shot of cum surged through her length. Sign’s lips, already painfully stretched, widened rhythmically while the shaft throbbed violently. Had the intrusion been at a shallower depth, she would have struggled to gulp down the influx; but as it was, every drop of the creamy seed was deposited directly into her belly.
Between the intensity of being used as a receptacle for the performer’s foal batter and lack of air, she spontaneously climaxed. Dancing on the razor’s edge of passing out, her body trembled from head to hoof. The dichotomy of it all, of standing at the precipice, fractured what little cognizance she had left. She went limp, as her marehood erupted orgasmic nectar on the floor.
Falling backwards, the length of stallionhood was dislodged from her gorge. It didn’t matter if Octavia was finished cumming or not, considering Sign’s body refused to comply with her wishes. The last three spurts of spunk ineffectually spattered over her face and chest, though she’d managed to contain the overwhelming majority of the sticky substance.
Heaving air into her lungs, Sign’s chest rose and fell as she mutely panted. Slowly - oh so slowly - her faculties returned, yet she remained unmoving. Covered in jizz, sweat, and her own orgasmic fluids, it would be next to impossible for somepony to not notice her disgraceful and shabby state.
Resigning herself to wait until the event was concluded, Sign did the best she could to clean herself up. Between her mouth and magic, she was able to remove most of the errant cum from her person, but she still desperately needed a shower. With any luck, given that the meet-and-greet had nearly been at an end when she’d salaciously secreted herself under the table, nopony would take note of her mysterious absence.
She couldn’t say how many minutes had passed before she noticed Octavia coolly push her chair back and get to her hooves. Lifting the tablecloth and lowering her head, the musician peered over at her. All she could offer was a sheepish smile and small wave, as the earth pony grinned at her.
“Next time, Dearest, simply ask first,” Octavia murmured, extending a hoof towards her.
Smiling, filled with the sublime satisfaction of a job well done and the prospect of future dealings with the talented pony, Sign crawled free. Looking around, taking care to see nobody saw her escape, she turned her attention to Octavia. She didn’t know what to say, nor how to say it, yet the cellist certainly didn’t appear to be flustered or put off.
“Come on, you can use my dressing room to wash up,” Octavia demurely chuckled. Trotting away, waving for Sign to follow, she proceeded towards an exit. “I’ll make a note to specifically request you for my next concert; given your - Ahem - enthusiasm, it’s the least I can do…” she continued, pausing to look back at her guest.
O...ok… rolled over Sign’s chest, as her cheeks darkened. Yeah, there was no denying it, the day had turned out far better than she could have ever dreamt…
With the show having concluded, the activity within the amphitheater slowed considerably. Attendees filed out, heading to their homes or hotels, leaving the staff to tidy the venue and close up shop. In the bowels of the structure, a pair of ponies walked side by side.
“So - I have to presume you’re a fan?” Octavia mare asked, glancing over at her companion.
Just a little bit...Sign mutely responded, the words crawling over her cheek and neck. In stark contrast to her brown coat and the black lettering materializing over it, her cheeks sat rosied.
She was keenly aware that, not but a hooffull of minutes ago, she’d been clandestinely choking herself on the cellist’s equipment. Though she’d had no idea that Octavia was a dickmare, an opportunity had presented itself and she’d seized the moment. The musician hadn’t been upset with her, fortunately, and had offered the use of a dressing room to clean up.
After her rather scandalous performance, Sign had done what she could to clean up. She’d done a decent job at ridding herself of most of the mess, between using her magic, the tablecloth, and her tongue, yet she could use a shower. There were few things more infuriating than having dried spunk in one’s fur.
Proceeding through the corridors, Octavia led her guest to a seemingly innocuous doorway. Letting herself inside, she ushered for Sign to follow. It wasn’t often that she was granted a private changing room, though the theater in Canterlot was exceptionally large and well equipped. Stepping in behind the unicorn, she closed the door behind herself.
Trotting into the chamber, Sign gave herself a moment to survey the area. It was the first time that she’d been invited into the dressing room of a musical prodigy, so she wanted to commit every detail to memory. Sparsely decorated, as she’d expected, there were few things of note. A coffee table, two chairs, and a sofa occupied most of the space, with a doorway leading to a restroom in the back.
Essentially a glorified break room, there was one small detail that caught her eye; sitting in the corner, besides an open cello case, were a pair of suitcases. She realized that Octavia wasn’t from Canterlot, but she’d presumed the instrumentalist had already checked into a hotel. Turning to her host, she raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, I came here directly from the station. Unfortunately, the train was running a bit late and I couldn’t afford to miss rehearsal,” Octavia sighed, answering the mare’s unasked question.
I can help you bring everything to your room, Sign noted, pointing to the luggage, after I get washed up.
Octavia silently stood, watching the mare’s response with marked interest. Cocking her head to the side, she watched the words materialize and disappear from Sign’s extended foreleg. Her curiosity, however, didn’t go unnoticed. Looking to her guest’s face, she saw the barest hint of a grin.
“My apologies, I didn’t mean to stare,” she relented, smiling sheepishly.
Sign couldn’t help but noiselessly giggle at the remark. It wasn’t the first time somepony had become self-conscious about looking at her, nor would it be the last, so she didn’t mind. Waving away any concern, she drew the mare’s attention back towards her.
It’s alright. I’ve been like this since forever, so I don’t mind the attention, Sign admitted. Plus it lets me do all sorts of s...sorts of stuff...she hastily added, turning to the side.
Magically, a dizzying array of figures and illustrations danced over her frame, as she flaunted her ability. Spinning in place, she animated small figures dancing about herself as she came back to face her host. She’d rarely put on such a shameless show, but she considered Octavia worthy of the display.
Even works, Sign continued, the words appearing on her eyelids, on the inside. Opening her mouth, a small heart shone on her extended tongue.
“My, that certainly is a fascinating ability, Miss…” Octavia trailed off, realizing she hadn’t caught the unicorn’s name.
Sign, she replied, amiably extending a hoof.
“Sign,” Octavia repeated, as if testing the word, “how very fitting.” Shaking the mare’s hoof, she nodded towards the back of the room. “Dreadfully sorry I didn’t catch your name earlier - rather unfitting of me. Please, help yourself to the shower.”
Nodding to herself, releasing Octavia’s hoof, Sign paused. As her gaze passed over the mare, something seemed amiss. Taking a moment, she attempted to determine what was off. Hearing a faint snicker from the mare, she scrunched her snout in consternation.
“I presume you were wondering what happened to this,” the cellist whispered, reaching to her signature bow tie. As her hoof grazed the fabric, the accessory glowed ever so faintly.
It took Sign a second to figure out what was going on, though a movement at the mare’s groin gave a rather immediate explanation. A dark, semi-flaccid length of cock mystically appeared beneath Octavia, leaving her wide eyed with wonder. Like the final piece of a puzzle snapping into place, everything made sense.
Given Octavia’s popularity, it was no surprise that the musician preferred to hide certain bits of her anatomy when in public. While dickmares weren’t exceedingly rare, there were those which chose to conceal their bits while out and about. At the end of the day, it was simply a matter of personal preference, although the instrumentalist seemed to do a very thorough job of it.
“If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer that you keep this little secret between us,” Octavia murmured, snapping Sign from her reverie.
Licking her lips, feeling her marehood reflexively seize upon itself, she looked to Octavia’s face. Yeah, no problem, she silently intoned, smiling gleefully. The fact that the situation had a secretive element nearly left her giddy, as if she’d been inducted into some private club.
“I really do appreciate it. Sweet Celestia, even with the camouflaging magic, it can be quite a trial. I want to be known for my art, so having ponies fixated on my naughty bits is something I try to avoid, but it can be rather difficult,” Octavia lamented. “I swear, it’s as if it has a mind of its own!”
Even though Sign wasn’t equipped with a length of stallionhood, she understood Octavia’s plight. One of her dearest friends, Lilith, was a dickmare herself - as such, she was well aware of their somewhat notorious libido. Nodding to herself, a sinful notion crept to the fore. Considering there was still a patina of saliva and cum on her host’s length, it wouldn’t be out of turn to ask…
You want to join me? she inquired, looking to the bathroom.
“Well I…” Octavia faltered, unprepared for the question, “...I suppose helping to wash the mess I made is the least I could do, as a thank you for your efforts - plus I should probably rinse myself off too…”
Giving her host a small nod, Sign slowly turned away. Sauntering towards the shower, she intentionally swayed her hips from side to side. It was an open invitation, considering what she’d done to the poor mare, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t lie some rather succulent bait. Disappearing out of view, flipping her tail to the side, she proceeded towards the shower.
Taking her time, she eagerly awaited her host. Though there’d been no guarantee that Octavia would accept the offer, she was immeasurably pleased that she’d get the chance to bathe with the musician and possibly tempt her into a bit more action. In her experience, a blowjob was seldom enough to fully sate somepony, especially in the case of dickmares, so she was hedging her bet on that.
Moving to the tub, Sign set the water to warm. Drawing the shower curtain to the side, ensuring there was some soap and shampoo to use, she ran her hoof under the stream. Over the soft sound of the running shower, she detected the steady sound of approaching hooffalls. A smug grin crept across her face, as she fought to contain her excitement.
Stepping into the basin, allowing the warm water to wash over herself, she sighed contentedly. Lewd shenanigans or not, there were few things more refreshing than a hot shower. Reaching up, wiping her soggied mane from her eyes, small equalizer lines materialized on her flanks and sides; while she couldn’t hum, it was an indication of her pleased state.
Levitating a bottle of soap to herself, Sign closed her eyes - that was, until she felt something behind herself. Peering over her shoulder, she spied Octavia stepping into the tub. Fortunately, there was plenty of room for both of them, so she didn’t have to move much. Shuffling forward just a bit, if only to give her host a better view of her backside, she squeezed a bit of the body wash onto her back.
Would you? she asked, prominently displaying the question on her thigh. Peeking between Octavia’s legs, noting the hardening length of stallionhood, she looked away.
The sensation of a hoof caressing her haunch sent a shiver up Sign’s spine. The delicate touch was enough to cause her heart to flutter, let alone the thought of getting some more action from a pony she adored. Hungry for more, relishing every moment of the attention, she made an impulsive move.
Placing one forehoof on the wall before her, she arched her back and raised her waist. The fact that she’d lured the musician into the shower was telling, though it couldn’t hurt to pour a little more fuel on the fire. Her efforts were immediately rewarded by a meaty Thwack, as Octavia’s tool slapped against her belly.
“Sorry about that,” Octavia murmured, apparently self-conscious of her own arousal.
Sign shook her head, dispelling any concern. It’s fine, played over her shoulders, as she flung her sopping wet mane to the side.
With her hastily thrown together scheme nearly at fruition, she decided to put the icing on the cake. Removing her hoof from the wall, she leaned forward and pressed her chest to the tub. The abrupt change in position brought her tush perilously close to Octavia’s face. Her marehood winked, as she peered back at the dickmare.
Be sure to clean everywhere...Sign added, pointing towards her upturned rump.
She could practically see the tempted look in Octavia’s eyes, as the musician gnawed her lip. Snickering to herself, she put one final touch to her debaucherous display. A pair of arrows appeared on the cheeks of her ass, each pointing towards her slick and engorged sex; if that didn’t push her host over the edge, she didn’t know what would.
“E..excuse me if I just…” Octavia began, before she dug her snout into the proffered snatch.
Though Sign hadn’t anticipated the cellist eating her out, she certainly wasn’t going to complain. Resting her head on her forehooves, while the water washed over her, she let herself enjoy the oral. Truth be told, it wasn’t necessary, seeing as how worked up she was, but it was a pleasant opening act.
Rocking back onto Octavia’s face, smearing her snout with her juices, nonsensical squiggles of joy played over her frame. Nibbling her clit, lapping at her entrance, the musician’s mouth and tongue played a symphony over her sex. Trembling with delight, from head to hoof, she pined for more - then, as suddenly as the preamble began, it concluded.
Before Sign could look back, she felt a hoof wrap over her waist; the action was quickly mirrored, as she was mounted. With Octavia’s weight resting on her backside, she braced herself as best she could. The mare’s first thrust struck wide, glancing off her buttock - the second went low, grinding over her snatch and clit - but the third landed true.
With her forelegs locked around Sign’s waist, Octavia wasted no time in burying her tool. Bucking her hips, she steadily delved into the unicorn’s silken depths. Inch by inch, bit by bit, her shaft plunged deeper and deeper, until she’d nearly hilted herself.
Clenching around the vascular cock, Sign’s eyelids fluttered. It was rare that she’d allow someone to make use of her marehood, though the performer was an exception. Not only had she gone a particularly long streak without any action, but she’d been offered the chance to bed the Octavia. If for no other reason than the accomplishment alone, she reveled in the moment.
Pushing back, she spurred the dickmare to continue. Her efforts didn’t go unnoticed, as her mate slowly withdrew. Clamping down upon the fleeing tool, milking every glorious inch of its length, she fought against its retreat, until it was rammed back inside of her. If she could moan, she would have; as it was, the most she could muster were a series of hearts flitting across her shoulders and sides.
With a snort, Octavia began to move in earnest. Slow to start, not unlike a locomotive, she screwed the unicorn beneath her. Rhythmically driving her hips forward and back, her tool ground into Sign’s snug confines. In spite of having blown a load less than half an hour ago, the dickmare seemed more than prepared to go another round.
Water streamed over Sign’s body, as she lurched forward with each thrust. The sensation of the pistoning member within her, caressing her canal, was divine. Her marehood winked sporadically, as if yearning for more, as it embraced Octavia’s majestic length. As the dickmare’s movements grew more fervent, her clit was periodically slapped by her mate’s pendulous balls, adding yet another layer of sensory input.
As their bodies collided, filling the air with the steady Plap Plap Plap of flesh upon flesh, an unmistakable warmth welled within her. The telltale signs of impending release, brought on by the veritable assault on her senses, was a welcome one. Fellating an idol, being brought to her changing room, the unexpected and welcome oral, they were all but a prelude to the main course that was the act itself.
Pushing herself back, Sign desperately sought out release. Feeling Octavia’s medial ring grind against her g-spot was beyond breathtaking. Though her thighs quivered uncontrollably, she stood resolute. The pleasure of being rutted in a shower was nearly overwhelming, pressing her closer and closer to her limit, causing her to frantically reciprocate her host’s motions.
What had been Octavia’s long, deliberate strokes slowly transitioned to short, furious pounding. Gone was the slow and sensual coitus, replaced by the fervent, primal movements of baser urges. Doing what she could, Sign gave nearly as good as she got; her vice-like marehood fiercely gripped the cellist’s shaft, while she rocked back to meet her partner’s thrusts.
As her plowing became frenzied, Sign bit upon her forehoof - not to stifle herself, but to draw out the moment. The twinge of discomfort served its purpose, staving off her inevitable climax. When she came - and she soon would - she wanted it to be with Octavia. Judging from the bestial grunts and violent humping, she wouldn’t have to hold on for too long.
The sensation of additional pressure, deep within her snatch, gave Sign the signal she was waiting for. Acting swiftly, feeling the musician beginning to flare inside of her, her foreleg shot below her belly and to her groin. Massaging her clit with reckless abandon, she pushed herself to the very brink. Then, in a sudden moment of serendipity, it happened.
Throbbing madly, stretching her canal all the more, a torrent of scalding seed erupted into her depths. The heat and pressure, paired with the additional stimulation she administered to herself, proved the final touch. Detonations of wild patterns and insane glyphs manifested on every part of her, inside and out, as she came.
When the floodgates blew, a barely suppressed moan escaped Octavia. Ramming her tool as deeply as possible, she deposited her essence into the unicorn beneath her. Entombed as her length was, the overwhelming majority of her cream was trapped in Sign’s marehood, though traces of the viscous substance escaped and pattered to the basin. Growing still, with her entirety buried inside her mate, she rode out her bliss.
Beset by rapturous ecstasy, Sign struggled to remain upright. Every muscle fiber about her frame quivered, while she fought hoof and nail to stay standing. Should she stumble and fall, it would make for an abrupt end of the exquisite sensations Octavia afforded. With her knees threatening to buckle, she endured.
Draping herself over her Sign’s back, Octavia panted heavily. Under the ceaseless flow of the shower, the two pony’s all too brief crescendo concluded. Breathing loudly, awash in the post-coitus euphoria, they gave themselves a moment to bask in the warmth of one another. Humming contentedly, the dickmare lovingly nuzzled her mate’s neck.
Sign’s eyes, blurry and unfocused, drifted over her surroundings. Craning her neck to the size, she gazed back at Octavia. The musician bore a serene expression, peaceful and pleased, as she looked back at her. A smile of genuine warmth met her lips, as their eyes met.
With a sigh, Octavia patted Sign’s shoulder. “W...well, at least we’re in the best place for this sort of thing. Dreadfully messy business, I’m afraid,” she chuckled. Steadying herself, she carefully dismounted and began withdrawing her stallionhood. As the long, semi-rigid appendage slipped free, a dribble of nectar and foal batter leaked to the tub; but that was just the beginning.
Snagging briefly, the flared tip of Octavia’s length pulled at Sign’s opening. Taking a breath, relaxing herself, Sign leaned forward slightly. The additional bit of force was just enough to clear her marehood of the colossal member. No sooner had the meaty organ slipped free than a veritable tsunami of cum came rushing out of her, crashing into the basin.
She could feel the hot spunk flowing out of her, causing a shiver to run through her. On shaky legs, she pushed herself up and looked down her belly. Craning her neck downward, she watched the seed seep from her loins; it was, she had to admit, a captivating sight and one she had every intention of getting off to later.
Pawing at the discarded bottle of body wash, under Sign’s belly, Octavia tapped the unicorn’s leg. “If you would, little help?”
Looking back, Sign noticed the stray bottle; igniting her horn, she moved it to Octavia’s outstretched hoof. As the instrumentalist re-administered the thick soap to her flank and lower back, she seated herself. Though there was enough room in the tub for the two of them to do the do, simultaneously washing one another would be a bit more tricky - as such, she figured they’d take turns.
Closing her eyes, as Octavia started lathering her mane, she relished the mare’s touch. Eventually, as the suds were rinsed from her head, she stood, washed her forelegs, and awkwardly switched places with the entertainer. Using a combination of her hooves and magic, she made quick work of getting the earth pony cleaned up.
While they didn’t say much, there was a pervasive undercurrent of comfort and satisfaction. There they were, a pair of mares washing each other after a very gratifying sexual experience, enjoying a shower. In a sense, it was the perfect way to wrap things up; each would walk away refreshed, in more ways than one, having blown off some steam.
“Any plans for the rest of your evening?” Octavia inquired, gently padding the unicorn’s shoulder.
Probably go back to the hotel and grab a bite to eat. Yourself? Sign countered, her question skillfully weaving around the area the performer was drying.
“You’re not from Canterlot?” Octavia quipped, rearing back slightly.
Shaking her head, Sign shuffled around to face her host. Nah. Just in town working this gig, then heading back home, she explained.
“Well…” the musician began, catching herself and waving a hoof. “No, never mind…”
The strange diversion piqued Sign’s interest. Resting a hoof on Octavia’s own, drawing the mare’s attention, she cocked her head to the side. No, what…?
“If you don’t have anything exceedingly pressing, you’re more than welcome to stay in my suite,” the cellist nearly blurted, her cheeks going flush.
Sign knit her brow and sternly stared at Octavia for a second. Shaking her head, two letters appeared on her chest - No. She let the moment hang, just long enough for a trace of tension to taint the air, before she continued. Not without letting me buy dinner for us first.
Chuckling to herself, Octavia affectionately batted at the mare’s leg. “Only if you let me pay - after all, it’s poor form to have one’s guest cover for you.”
Scrunching her snout, Sign opened her maw and started stroking the air in front of her muzzle. But you served the first course, ran across her chest and neck, while she mimed sucking somepony off.
“You’re just awful,” Octavia sighed, rolling her eyes. Tossing the towel onto the sink, she trotted out into the dressing room; with Sign following behind her, she retrieved a coat and hat from a rack by the door. “Know any good restaurants we could go to?”
I know a few, Sign responded, moving to the door and pulling it open. Glancing over to Octavia, noticing the dickmare conceal her naughty bits, she smirked. Strolling out after her host, passing the mare by and leading the way, she headed in the direction of her favorite eatery. Without a doubt, the day had turned out much, much better than she could have ever dreamt…
