Five Star Service - A Gentleman for Mares Tale
Part 1: What’s in a name?
Five-Star Service - What’s in a name?
By Five Stars of Manehattan
Special to the New York Life and Manehattan Post magazines
June 26 issues
Editor’s note: some names, places, and descriptions have been altered to protect the identities of those involved. Five Stars, however, has insisted on using her real name to emphasize that she is neither ashamed of her profession or feels the need to hide it.
WARNING: Parts of the article to follow are sexually explicit. At the insistence of Five Stars and the direct request of the president of Gentlemen for Mares, Platinum Corona, it has not been censored of adult content. If this bothers you, do not read on. You have been warned…
There is a saying among ponies that ‘names are destiny’.
What that means is, the names our parents give us seem to have an uncanny knack for predicting our future talents and fate. Some say it’s due to the Power of Harmony, others that it’s just the simple power of suggestion. But whatever the answer, with a name like Five Stars, I guess I was destined to be part of the Manehattan hospitality industry.
I just had no clue what form that was going to take—just how ‘hospitable’ I was going to be one day… or how much I would enjoy that new life over my old one.
What is that new life? I am a trainer in Gentlemen for Mares. As for what that entails, when a new human Gentleman is hired (and contrary to the opinions of some, they all sign up willingly), it is up to me and my fellow trainers to provide their ‘orientation’—in my case, to teach them how to properly please and pleasure earth pony mares. We likewise have pegasus and unicorn mare trainers to teach the particulars of those pony races, and I’ve heard Platinum Corona is considering adding trainers for thestrel ponies and zebras as well as interest in G4M spreads.
The more the merrier, as far as I’m concerned. And yes, before anyone asks,‘training’ a gentleman does involve actual sex… or ‘rutting’ as we ponies (somewhat crudely) like to refer to it. After all, how else can you teach or learn except to do?
That having been said, let me clear up a few things right away. Yes, I am a mare who prefers human males to stallions, for reasons that I will go into later—and ones I believe more than a few mares would sympathize with. No, I am not ‘rejecting’ my own kind, choosing ‘hairless apes’ over ponies—what I’m rejecting is an all-too-common mindset among stallions that they don’t have to reciprocate a mare’s affection or attention. Nor is my interest in human males a mere fetish… unless you consider it fetish to appreciate the simple attention and appreciation that I’ve found human men show that all too often pony stallions do not.
* * * * *
When some ponies find out I’m a trainer for G4M or otherwise a mare who likes to bed humans, they usually make several assumptions, all insulting and false. Typically, the first thing to be questioned is my appearance—clearly, the only reason I would be interested in humans is because no stallion would give me a second look, right? The only reason I’m so down on herds is because nopony would accept me into one.
Well, the fact that I spent the better part of six years in five separate herds says differently. As for my appearance, I don’t think I’m bad-looking by pony or human standards. I certainly wouldn’t call myself a supermodel, and you’ll never see me walking the runway at a Photo Finish fashion show, but I’m a trim-enough earth pony, with a tawny coat, curly pine green mane, deep orange eyes at least one stallion called ‘soulful’ and my flanks adorned with a five-star cutie mark that was the insignia of the hotel chain my father founded… which was in turn based on a stellar constellation Princess Luna was said to particularly favor in her night skies. I remember daddy was so delighted when I got it, sure it meant I was destined to succeed him in the family business… but that’s a story for another time.
The next thing I’m suspected of is coming from a broken herd with a bad or missing male role model. Sorry to disappoint my neighsayers again, but there was little traumatic or tragic about my foalhood. I grew up in a nice Manehattan apartment—somewhat unusual for Earth Ponies, which tend to favor more rural towns and countryside over the big cities—had parents who loved me, two younger sisters who looked up to me, a big brother that doted on me, an older sister that often picked on me, and an assortment of friends I occasionally got into trouble with. I had childhood crushes, played a mean game of buckball in high school, and very much wanted to follow in my father’s hoofsteps, who had spent the better part of his adult life trying to establish a new hotel chain that would rival the upscale Manehattan franchises.
Actually, I take that back. There was one very unusual thing about my upbringing. Namely, that my parents were in a committed relationship that did not involve other mares—what humans would call a normal marriage and what ponies (often dismissively) refer to as a ‘matched pair’.
What that means is, they were married to each other and nopony else, a rather unusual—and some would say selfish and wasteful—arrangement in the pony world.
Selfish and wasteful, my human readers may ask? Yes, and the reason is very simple: when there are only an average of two stallions born for every seven mares, it would be impossible to sustain our population if we only allowed the monogamous one-to-one relationships I have learned are the norm for most human societies. For that reason, it is perfectly normal—to say nothing of necessary for the very survival of our species—for mated ponies to form ‘herds’ consisting of one stallion and several mares, each of whom will be bred by the stallion.
The herd is both our marital and family unit, one that ensures enough foals and enough stallions to keep our population up. It also provides pooled resources for raising families, as all herdmates, stallion and mare alike are expected to contribute to the well-being and upbringing of their shared foals. To be a mare in a herd is to have security, access to a stallion, emotional and financial support for both you and your children.
Or that’s how it’s supposed to work. Yet somehow, it never seemed to for me. And that brings me to the final assumption: that I was soured on herd life by abusive herdmates or a neglectful stallion. This is, perhaps, closer to the truth than any, but even that fails to grasp the basic point that it wasn’t me, my herdmates, or even my stallions that were the problem.
It’s the herd itself. It simply doesn’t work for me. To understand why, you need to know what happened in my previous ones… starting with my first, now nearly twelve years ago. The stories I will tell over the next several weeks will be explicit and perhaps occasionally broaching on uncomfortable themes.
But to know them is to know why herd life is not for everypony, and in turn why Gentlemen for Mares is needed.
* * * * *
First Times and First Herds
Okay, what’s going on? Was all I could think of as I was flown through the air, trying not to look outside the chariot or lose what was left of my lunch.
In truth, my nerves had less to do with any fear of heights or earth pony aversion to flying than just what I was being brought to. I knew the town of my destination, but little more, and the two pegasi up front weren’t talking, just occasionally giving me knowing looks and asking if I was okay. Their concern seemed real enough, so I relaxed a bit and tried to enjoy the previously unknown sight of Equestria from the air as Celestia’s sun slowly set behind us and lights from towns and villages below twinkled on.
Sitting in that chariot being carted off to Celestia-knows-where was not by my design. I knew something was up when my work schedule was abruptly cleared one Friday in late June and I’d received an invitation to join ‘my coworkers’ for a night on the town. That in itself made no sense to me—Friday is normally our hotel’s busiest night of the week, particularly when it coincides with the annual Summer Sun Celebration; you don’t just pull half your staff out on a whim—and my suspicions were only heightened and I was asked to come to one of the—I believe the human word is ‘swankiest’—places is town.
Even in Manehattan, it’s a rare restaurant that requires formal attire (or *any* attire, for that matter!), but this was one of them. So I dusted off my Grand Galloping Gala best—no, I’ve never actually been to that ritziest of balls, but Manehattan hosts a couple that could rival it—and went outside my apartment to hail a carriage taxi, only to find a pegasus-drawn chariot had already been hired for me, the pegasi stallions attending it dressed in traditional Cloudsdale armor attire and holding up a placard with my name on it.
When I told them there had to be some mistake, they assured me there was none; that they had been hired by my hotel manager with instructions to bring me to Neighagra. When I hesitated, not understanding what was going on and reluctant to be borne off by some strange ponies I didn’t know (can’t say I was too keen on the idea of flying, either!) I was given a wax-sealed scroll that bore the seal of our hotel—something we only use for formal invitations to conventions, reunions and the like.
Sitting back and unrolling it, I found a horn-written invitation quill-penned in a very elegant cursive script, asking me ‘to do the supreme kindness of honoring Burning Heart and his herd by accompanying these fine gentlecolts to the resort city of Neighagra’. Looking down at the bottom, it bore the hoofmarks of Burning Heart, a stallion I’d been courting for some time, and the three mares of his herd.
I don’t mind saying that I stood frozen in place for a moment, a mixture of fear and excitement taking hold of me. I’m assuming my pegasi drivers already knew what this was about, as they both looked like it was the kind of the job they enjoyed doing—spiriting a surprised pony to a very happy occasion.
With that, I was ushered inside the chariot, the door was closed, and I was given warming and airsickness potions for the hour-long trip. Despite the latter, my heart dropped into my stomach when we initially took off, quickly clearing the level of the buildings and reaching a cruising altitude of what must have been fifteen hundred feet above the countryside.
Although I’ve never been much for flying, being an Earth Pony, my reaction was less due to that than the butterflies fluttering about in my stomach. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have an inkling of what was happening, I was just afraid to believe it—afraid to even think it. Was I about to be invited to join a herd? And of one of the most handsome and accomplished stallion chefs in the very competitive Manehattan restaurant scene?
I couldn’t be that lucky… could I?
After an hour’s flight that was somehow interminably long yet over before I knew it, arrival found us in front of a very posh and upscale Neighagra restaurant overlooking the rainbow pools of the town’s famous waterfalls, a very prim and proper unicorn stallion in a tuxedo waiting for me, opening the door with his magic and stepping forward to greet me. Helping me outside, he bowed low and kissed my hoof—never been treated like a noblepony before!—and asked me to follow him inside.
I did so in a daze, increasingly certain what was happening but scarcely able to accept it out of a completely irrational fear my hopes would only be dashed if I did. We passed through the restaurant and reached its outdoor dining area to find… Burning Heart and his entire herd waiting for me at a very ornately set table, a seat reserved for me opposite him. He was wearing his formal cape and collar over his regular cooking attire, oddly enough, and—what my eyes locked on to instantly—pinned to his collar was the golden flower I had given him weeks earlier.
“Five Stars,” he rose to greet me with a low bow of his head. “Won’t you join us?” he asked, motioning with a hoof to the very plush burgundy pillow across from him.
I didn’t immediately, staring at the scene before me. “Is this… what I think it is?” I asked, trying hard to still the trembling of my hooves and quavering of my voice.
“I very much hope so,” he grinned at me as he sat back down, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying himself and the spectacle he had created for me. “I’ve talked it over with my herd, and we all agree…”
My heart leaped into my throat as he pushed across a long sparkling rectangular purple box, tied crosswise with a very intricate orange bow and also adorned with three different-colored roses, the names of which I knew by rote from the months I had spent working in the hotel flower shop—a bright orange ‘Wildfire’, a pure white ‘Polar Star’, and a very rare and expensive indigo ‘Midnight Glory’.
I knew what the roses were for. I knew what that box was and what it contained. And unless this was a very cruel joke, there could no longer be any doubt what it all meant.
Time seemed to stand still as I stared at it, still barely daring to hope. Part of me was certain I was dreaming and if I so much as touched the box, it would disappear and I’d wake up in my own bed back in my hotel apartment. But touch it I did, holding it down with one shaking hoof while I pulled the bow free with my teeth and carefully set aside the flowers, knowing what they symbolized—their colors matched the respective coats of the three mares sitting opposite me, indicating that the invitation to follow was from all of them as well.
Despite my certainty of the contents, I nearly fainted when I finally got the box lid off and saw what was inside—a single bronze-hued feather that matched the coat of the stallion sitting across from me…
The same feather that already hung from the manes of the three mares beside him.
At that moment, the feather’s owner began speaking again, but so lost in the moment and meaning of the act, I didn’t hear him until he was halfway through what must have been his second or third sentence. “…and I—we—would be honored if you would join my herd, Five Stars,” Burning Heart told me, flaring his large bronze wings to symbolically encompass the three current mares of his herd flanking him on the other side of the table—Autumn Leaf, Snow Lily and Will’O’Wisp—all of whom nodded in agreement, though lost in the moment, I didn’t immediately catch a slightly more reluctant and uncertain look on the face of Autumn Leaf.
With those words, my world came to a screeching halt. For a moment, I couldn’t speak or breathe; I was so stunned and happy. I was only twenty-two years old, just a humble concierge and event coordinator at the Shamareaton Manehattan barely starting to climb the hotel hierarchy and yet here I was, already being invited to join a real herd! Not only that, it was the herd of the young but brilliant hotel head chef and his lead mare, the hotel manager, all but guaranteeing my career and advancement…
Guaranteeing my future and the future of the foals I would one day bear my new stallion.
I had arrived.
You’d be so proud of me, daddy… was all I could think as I blinked back tears, planning to dash off and send dragonfire messages to my siblings, wanting them to hear the news… especially my eldest sister, who’d made it her habit growing up to tell me no herd would ever want me, wishing I could see the look on her face when she read the missive. “Th-thank you…” I finally managed, trying to keep myself from crying, knowing it would make my makeup run. “I a-accept. Y-you don’t know w-what this means to me…”
“Oh, I think we do,” Snow Lily chuckled, the pale unicorn mare flaring her horn to dab at my wet cheeks with her silk napkin. “This night is for you, Five Stars… from all of us,” she told me, her eyes flickering to Autumn Leaf as if in reminder for a moment. “Welcome to our herd,” she reiterated, offering her hoof across the table, Will’O’Wisp quickly joining her—it was a rare herd that had a cat-eyed, bat-winged thestrel pony in it, and a rare non-thestrel stallion who would accept one. His kindness, generosity and utter lack of personal prejudice was one of several reasons why I’d fallen hard for Burning Heart, head chef my hotel’s rooftop restaurant and a stallion I’d been all but drooling over ever since I’d started my employment there.
How surreal it all seemed at that moment as I reached across to touch my hoof to theirs, Snow Lily symbolically wrapping a bronze ribbon around our joined forelegs with her magic. It had taken me weeks before I could even talk to Burning Heart—those who know me now might be surprised to learn I had serious confidence and self-esteem issues back then—and many months more before I finally got up the nerve to court him. By Celestia’s sun, you have no idea how nervous I was when I finally got him alone and presented him with the traditional token of a mare’s interest—a golden flower that matched my coat; the same one he wore now.
A token that was now returned to me threefold in the form of the multicolored roses before me, matching the coats of the mares I was now joined with—orange for Autumn Leaf, pure white for Snow Lily, and indigo for Will’O’Wisp. I proudly donned them all, pinning them to my dress—okay, Snow Lily had to magically help me with that; my hooves were shaking so badly. She also helped me fasten the feather to my mane, giving me an affectionate kiss on the forehead when she was done, further indicating her acceptance of me.
Around us, hooves from the hotel staff and simple onlookers at other tables stomped and clopped their hooves together in appreciation as my new herdmates gathered around me for a prearranged picture. The camera flashed, preserving the moment for posterity…
A moment I wished I could hold on to forever.
* * * * *
The evening could scarcely have been more wonderful.
Even outside of the unexpected trip and proposal, I enjoyed an expensive and utterly scrumptious dinner personally prepared by my new stallion, which was swiftly followed by a communal—and extremely decadent—dessert from the restaurant’s resident chocolatier. At meal’s end, his other mares took their leave, saying they’d just ‘be in the way’ and clearing out so we could have some ‘quality time’ and ‘get to know each other properly’, among other teasing asides I heard from my new herdmates; I blushed hard when Will’O’Wisp whispered a suggestion for what he liked in my ear.
To say the suggestion was a little kinky would be an understatement. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that; things were happening so quickly! I thought—with some trepidation—that we were going to go back to his hotel room right then and there, but instead he took me on a ground carriage ride to watch the moonrise, the Mare in the Moon watching over us as she appeared over the waterfalls, gently illuminating the rainbow pools below. I remembered an old pony’s tale about the Mare in the Moon being the lost Princess Luna, and found myself praying to her that this night—this moment—would never end.
A little ironic, given it was that very night she returned as Nightmare Moon to try to bring about exactly that, but no matter.
Throughout it all, Burning Heart attended me like a perfect gentlecolt, seeing to my every need and whim. He made me feel like a princess, and I loved it. Seeing how nervous I was, he made no move to pressure or hurry me, even going so far as to tell me that we didn’t have to do anything that night if I wasn’t ready to. Just the thought that he would leave the decision up to me warmed my heart—far too many stallions expect mares to put out for them to stick around; thankfully Burning Heart wasn’t one of them. And so we stayed out there for an hour or more, just talking, sipping on some very expensive brandy until the evening chill drove us—well, me; being a pegasi and naturally resistant to weather, Burning Heart wasn’t affected by the cold—inside.
It was only shortly thereafter I found myself in a posh hotel room specifically reserved for us, a large and plush bed as the centerpiece, an ice bucket containing a very old and expensive vintage of cider sitting at its one side and a large bowl of treats, including sweets and flowers behind it. The bed faced a very large bay window that opened into a balcony overlooking the moonlit pools, a cool night breeze blowing in, ruffling the sheer curtains and contrasting deliciously with the warm fire in the hearth off to the side.
It was a clearly a room designed for a single purpose, and I have to say… it was working. Between Burning Heart’s doting and the room’s design, I was starting to get very hot and bothered, and it wasn’t just because of the flames in the fireplace.
But being turned on didn’t mean being confident. By Luna, I was trying so hard to hide my nervousness as he gently undressed me with tooth and wing—have to say, it’s very odd and ironic feeling to be nervous about being naked when you usually are anyway!—all the while telling me how beautiful and desirable I was and how much I was going to enjoy this night. With both my anxiety and arousal levels now through the roof, he sat beside me and gave me a reassuring smile as he picked up my trembling hoof in his own. “Your first time?” he asked gently, laying beside me and putting a bronze-feathered wing over my back in a very intimate and comforting gesture.
I could only nod nervously, licking my lips repeatedly—I can’t tell you how excited and terrified I was at that moment. What if he didn’t like me? What if I didn’t perform well? I mean, I had fooled around with some stallions—and one or two mares; enough to know I really didn’t swing that way—at school, but had never actually been mounted, save for a mare wearing a strap-on ‘cooler’ once or twice during my heats (and no, before any human readers ask, that doesn’t count… no matter how much those tools advertise ‘realistic texture sensation’. My furry flank they are…) Sad to say, but mares have been kicked out of herds for being a bad rut (as I would learn myself in due time), not that I thought he was that shallow or venal.
But knowing he wasn’t didn’t assuage my still-irrational fears or performance anxiety. “It’s okay. We’ll take it slow and easy,” he said, delivering little nibbles up and down my long, bared neck, sending thrills down my spine. “And you tell me if I’m hurting you or doing something you don’t like,” he told me gently between love bites, reaching around with his hoof to turn my face towards him, making me meet his gaze. “This is your night, Five Stars, and I want to give you the best first time possible.”
Oh, Celestia. I all but crooned at that, feeling like I was going to swoon right then and there. In fact, the entire evening had been something straight out of a romance novel—a good one!—making a mare feel special like this. “T-take me,” was all I could think to ask, moving in front of him and flagging my tail, displaying myself, letting him see my want and need… just how wet and desperate he had made me. “Make me yours,” I all but begged him, the moist lips of my marehood involuntarily winking at him.
“Well, now… who am I to turn down such an urgent and heartfelt request from such a lovely lady?” he suggested huskily, a touch of amusement in his voice. “But first… I have another gift for you,” he said suggestively, and I tensed as I heard him step closer, having no idea what else he could give me aside from his stallionhood at that point. I closed my eyes and held my breath as I waited for him to mount me, but to my surprise, I didn’t sense him rearing up or feel his weight on my back. Instead, I felt hot breath wash over my nethers, a nose probing at my slit.
My already-glazed eyes snapped open, going wide at the realization of what he was about to do. B-but stallions don’t… well, as his practiced tongue only too quickly proved, this stallion did, and I was in utter ecstasy from it—the only other time I had been orally serviced was an experimental encounter with a filly I knew back in school, and she hadn’t even come close to getting me off.
It took him less than thirty seconds. I screamed his name, called to Celestia (I’ve often wondered who she would call to in the throes of pleasure? Or does she even have sex? I rather hope she does…) before collapsing into a quivering puddle of pleasure on the floor. He didn’t leave it there, though; his muzzle and tongue continuing to work me as I lay before him, even giving my swollen and tingling teats some attention as I rolled over on my back and spread my hind legs for him, exulting in what I could only describe as the most worshipful lovemaking imaginable—the kind of thing you always fantasize about as a filly, read in a romance novel or simply stare at the stallion of your desires daydreaming about.
Well, if this was a dream I never wanted to wake up! After he got me off for the third time, I lay there floating thinking that if I died right then and there, I’d die a happy mare.
A gentle nuzzle to my neck brought me back to reality. “You liked that, I see…” he grinned, standing over me and making a show of licking his muzzle, his large stallionhood fully erect beneath his body and laying rather lewdly against my belly. In answer, I reached up with a hoof and pulled him down to kiss him hungrily, delighting in the rather taboo taste of my own juices on his lips—at that point, I believed that oral sex was something only other mares did; it was (and still is) *extremely* rare to find a stallion who would service a mare like that. I couldn’t believe my luck in finding one that not only did, but did it so well “That was just the appetizer. Is madam ready for her entree?” he asked between kisses like he was serving up a five-course meal.
My only response was to moan lustfully and roll back over on my belly to present myself again, scarcely able to imagine what could top what he’d already done for me…
To borrow a human phrase… the answer, of course, was topping me. “Ah… an excellent choice…” he chuckled as moved to straddle me, wings flared.
I thought my knees would buckle for a moment as he moved to mount me, but not from his weight—being an earth pony, I could support him easily even if he wasn’t quite light for his size. No, it was the several little things all adding up—his belly on my back, his hot breath against my ears, the head of his organ being poised and starting to press against my wet and willing entrance. It was what it all promised me; words cannot describe how ready I was for it—how badly I wanted him inside me.
He didn’t keep me waiting long as at long last, the moment I’d been waiting for half my life arrived. My breath caught as I felt him slowly push into me, taking his time to make sure I would get used to his size. There was a brief moment of pain as he pushed past the initial barrier and my virginity was lost, quickly subsumed under a wave of pleasure as the previously unfamiliar sensations of a stallionhood filling my marehood coursed through me.
And it was incredible! I could feel every inch of his hardness moving inside me, every vein and texture of his organ, feel the strength and weight of his body, smell the musk of his stallion self. All of it was perfect. All of it was wonderful. All of it seemed designed to call to me, pleasure me… heighten my senses and my awareness to levels I didn’t even know were attainable. And yet my entire world was reduced to him and me; all I could feel was his body against my own, his stallion shaft now moving quickly and easily inside of me, pumping in and out with powerful, practiced strokes…
I couldn’t believe it—being mounted with a cooler was nothing like this!
As his thrusts got progressively more powerful, it amazed me how he could be so light and yet so strong at the same time. His lightness was a function of being a hollow-boned pegasus, I would later realize, and the fact that he was flaring his wings for balance, using their downstrokes for additional thrust. To this day, I’ve never seen another pegasus, stallion or mare able to control their wings in the throes of arousal like that; they’re usually uselessly stiff—as well as exquisitely sensitive—in the middle of rutting.
But needless to say… such observations were beyond me at that point, so lost as I was in the magic of my first mating.
I pushed back against him with as much urgency as he thrust forward, trying to get more of him inside me. I wasn’t in heat, but I may as well have been at that point, so hungry I was for his stallionhood and seed. And I hasten to add, it wasn’t just the simple fact he was mating me, his good looks, or even that it was my first time. No, it was everything taken as a whole—the dinner, the unexpected proposal, the royal treatment, all leading to a night of lovemaking I’d only dreamt of…
It was beautiful, it was wonderful… it was, well, Five Star Service, to drop my own name.
I can’t emphasize enough that he wasn’t just rutting me—he was making love to me! Worshiping me, pleasuring me, doing everything in his power to make me feel special and desirable. And like a true gentlecolt, he didn’t let himself climax until I had again—twice more!—before finally delivering his seed inside me, calling my name and biting down hard on the back of my neck as he did so.
My world flashed white as I felt my new stallion empty himself inside me, rocked by yet another orgasm that this time was less from the sensation of him inside me as the simple fact that by doing so, he was at long last claiming me for his herd. I screamed his name and milked him for everything he was worth, wanting every single drop of his seed inside me before I collapsed to the ground again, an entire evening of buildup and anticipation leading to this one perfect moment.
I was barely aware of anything except the afterglow as he lay down beside me and spooned me, his wing and foreleg draped over me; his organ still inside my immensely satisfied marehood as I drifted off to very blissful and sated sleep.
* * * * *
The rest of the night was anything but anticlimactic. We woke up hourly to make love anew; he later told me that he’d been saving up for me and even taken a magical performance booster prepared for him by Snow Lily to make certain he could satisfy me.
And satisfy me he did. Fully and repeatedly. Later that night, I repaid him in kind for his earlier ‘present’, taking Will-O-Wisp’s suggestion of, well… taking him in my muzzle. Again, that’s not something a self-respecting mare was supposed to do, but after all he’d done for me, including his little ‘present’… how could I not return the favor? Don’t mind saying… I rather enjoyed it, too, just as much he did. Bit of a mess on my face and chest afterwards, but somehow… that just contributed rather than detracted from the enjoyment of the act.
I woke up late the following morning with Celestia’s sunlight streaming in and Burning Heart snuggling me from behind, his warm body providing a perfect contrast to the cool morning air that flowed in the open window. We would later learn—over lunch—of Nightmare Moon’s return and defeat at the hooves of the Elements of Harmony, and that the night actually had lasted several hours longer than usual during her short reign, In truth, I was almost grateful to the reborn moon princess—by extending the night, she had given us a several more rounds of fun.
But at that moment… I had no idea any of it had happened, and even if I did I could have cared less. As far as I was concerned, with a new herd and my stallion at my side, his feather in my mane and wing draped over me, all was right with the world.
It’s been nearly twelve years since that night, which remains vivid in my memory now even as it seemed to pass in a blur for me back then. As I look back on that long-ago day, I remember two things: how wonderful it all was… and how rare it turned out to be.
And therein lies the irony: that my first stallion—and my first time with him—spoiled me for all others. Even as I lay there basking in his company and afterglow, I didn’t realize yet that such nights weren’t going to be the norm; that encounters like these were going to be far more the exception than the rule. Oh, I understood on an intellectual level that I’d be sharing him with the other mares of his herd, but I thought as long as I had just a few of these nights with him a month… I’d be just fine with that.
Ah, how naïve you were, Five Stars… but that’s a subject for my next article.
So having told the story of my first time in my first herd, if I could describe the purpose of Gentlemen for Mares in one sentence, it would be this: to make a mare feel as I did that one glorious night—a very special somepony, the center of a stallion’s world… treated, feted, and ultimately sated by the attention and efforts of a doting and devoted, experienced lover.
For it was something that happened all too rarely, I was going to learn the hard way, even when you already belonged to a herd.
