A Mute Cantata

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…