Sports Equistrated: Wet Mane Edition

by Holla Jolla

Rating: mature
Tags: Sex, Spitfire, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Soarin, Romance
Length: 4788

Soarin gets the newest edition of Sports Equistrated, leading to an intense moment with Spitfire.

Soarin gets the newest edition of Sports Equistrated, leading to an intense moment with Spitfire.

“Oh god, ever since the first time I've seen that pic, I've wanted to write about it.”- Me

Alright, so I got my ass in gear and pulled this outta my hat in a week. Hope you guys enjoy.

I was also kinda sarcastic in the beginning and end of it, but I sober up in the middle. So, don't let that throw you off of this.

Heavily inspired by PluckyNinja's Busted.

Also, slightly inspired by Not Over You by Gavin DeGraw.

Published 2012-03-03 20:24:03 UTC
Last updated 2012-03-03 20:24:03 UTC

Chapter 1

Holla Jolla requested:

“Oh god, ever since the first time I've seen that pic, I've wanted to write about it.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Sports Equistrated

Oh dear Celestia. It was finally here! Soarin listened closely, his perked ear practically glued to the door. He carefully concentrated on the sound of the mailmare grumbling quietly outside about her apparently less than desirable job, before the much awaited sound of the mailbox being irately slammed back closed reached his ears. With an excited squeal much resembling a schoolfilly’s, he carefully cracked open the door just enough for him to peek his head out.

Skies clear? Check. No movement? Check. Planets aligned? Check.

It was go time.

Slinking his way out the door, Soarin checked his corners cautiously, as if he was about to be jumped at any second. His sky blue cloak engaged, he blended perfectly into the backdrop of the clear skies as he skulked his way to the mailbox. When he finally reached it, his anticipation was nearly driving him to insanity. It was so close, he could almost taste it. It was an acquired sense. Soarin reached out with a shaking hoof, licking his sweaty lips. With one last anxious breath, he grabbed the handle slowly, before yanking it open forcefully.

What lay there, was, in more ways than one, the Holy Grail of all magazines. In the Holy Grail of all editions. Soarin could almost swear that the dark compartment of the mailbox was glowing with the faint light of the sheer perfection of its contents. He could feel a tear welling up in his eye. All year he had been waiting for this moment. Sports Equistrated: Wet Mane Edition! Luckily, the locker rooms had a subscription the the magazine, so he could always sneak one away every once in a while. And the guest athlete this year was...

S-Spitfire?

Soarin’s head was brimming with questions, his mind being taken aback by the critical shock he was just given. When did this happen? Why did he miss this? His squad-mate stared back at him seductively from the cover of the magazine, shining eyelids half closed and a suggestive smile adorning her face. Her mane was, shockingly enough, dripping wet, falling cutely down by her neck and bangs. She had always been hot, but seeing her like this made something inside Soarin tick.

Now, one could say that Soarin had been, at one time, infatuated by Spitfire. He would follow her around like a lost puppy, doing whatever she asked, whenever she asked. When she said walk, he ran. When she said jump, he jumped higher. It was cute, his never ceasing efforts to impress her always drawing a laugh from her. But then, that day happened.

It was hot outside that day, not a single wind to speak of. Arid and dry. Perfect flying conditions. All day, the Wonderbolts had been training rigorously, ironing out any left over wrinkles in their technique for the upcoming show. By the end of the day, they should have been able to do these tricks blindfolded with five hooves behind their back. Practice ended eventually, relief and exhaustion filling all of them. They were all dismissed back to their respective homes and warm beds, but Soarin wasn’t done just quite then. He trained further into the night, practicing every single one of the moves religiously. Even the ones that weren’t even his.

After nearly collapsing out of pure fatigue, Soarin clumsily stumbled his way into the locker room. He stripped off his beaten and battered flight suit and hung it up with the others, a new retiree joining the others. Right now, he could barely walk, much less get home. Guess he would just have to settle for the old couch as a bed. He painfully ow’ed his way over to the entertainment room, turning the corner only to be meet with the surprise of his life.

Spitfire and some poser were lying and giggling on the couch, being much more than just ‘friendly’ with each other. The stallion was kissing her neck lovingly as the golden-orange pegasus moaned quietly into his ear. The sight boiled Soarin’s blood. It was like a train wreck; all he could do was just stand there and watch, but that didn’t keep every curse imaginable from crossing his mind. Solemnly, he turned to leave the locker rooms before he was noticed, but not before Spitfire suddenly cracked open her eyes and locked with his. He couldn't tell what her eyes were full of, and, quite frankly, he didn’t care at that point. He silently walked out, letting the door hit him on the way out, like a scolding mother for being so stupid.

That image was now permanently burned in his mind. To make matters worse, after that, Spitfire doesn't even talk to him anymore, aside from giving simple orders. It was especially obvious when they did cooperative tricks; she would never pair herself with him, usually putting him as far away as possible from her. Plus, every time he walks by that forsaken couch, it’s like reliving it all over again.

With a sigh, Soarin came snapping back to the present. He guessed he could still read it, he’d just have to skip all the pages with Spitfire. He just hoped that the magazine wasn't completely ruined by bad memories. Shuffling his feet back to the locker room, Soarin lazily opened the door and strolled into the entertainment room. He figured he might as well leave this all in the past if he wanted to enjoy this pseudo-porn magazine. Flopping himself down on that same damned couch, he licked a hoof and flicked to the first page.

...and a male enhancement advertisement is the first thing that greets him. Great start there. Soarin flipped a couple pages ahead, skipping the several flashy ads in return for, hopefully, even more flashy pictures of mares. Screw the articles; he doesn't even read the inane bull in these stupid weeklies usually. Occasionally, he would pass by and an article about him would catch his eye, but he only got about half-way through before throwing the poorly written thing behind him, bored. Reading was for losers and eggheads anyway.

About fifteen pages finally into the blasted slag, Soarin finally stops contently on the first picture of many. She was a cute, creamy-furred, earth mare, a moist magenta mane dripping across half of her face in a sexy pose of innocence. Soarin could have sworn he had seen a girl looking just like her down in Ponyville, but brushed it off as more of a hopeful wish than an observation. An adorable cutie-mark of three butterflies peeked back out at him from behind her round flank. He could feel groin beginning to warm up already, getting a little too excited by the anticipation of the rest of the gallery. Reluctantly, he tore his eyes from the shy girl and flipped onwards to the next picture.

As he rapidly flipped through the pages, Spitfire’s face seductive stare met his eyes numerous times. Soarin was afraid to stop browsing thought the pages, worried that if he landed on one of his friend that the memories would stab through his heart again. Finally, he closed his eyes and looked up, letting old Lady Luck decide for him. With one final page turn, he cracked open one eye cautiously.

Another gorgeous earth pony peered back, only this time she was amber-colored, with lean muscle rippling prominently through her fur. Not enough that she was gross bodybuilder-tier-looking, but a satisfying amount that fairly obviously showed she was an athlete. Or a hard worker. Either/or. She was sipping on some cold lemonade through a straw and leaning against a barrel. A large cowboy hat crested her light blond mane, casting a wide shadow across her playfully grinning face. Over her shoulder, a sopping ponytail came over and rested against her chest.

Soarin could feel an erection coming on, his member already out of its sheath and making its way up his belly. It bulged out at him, just waiting to be touched. Finally making the decision, he took a hoof and achingly ran it up its length. No one would know, right? What’s the harm? Imagining that orange pony between his legs, the lustful pegasus began playing with himself . It’s been too long, he thought longingly, finally awaiting the release this would bring. When you work a job like his, you hardly ever get any free time at all without cameras being shoved in your face or fans gushing all over you. Luckily, the locker room was considered a safe haven from all the chaos that came with the fame. Soarin took his hoof off his member for a moment to flick to the next page, but accidentally ended up dropping the entire magazine instead. Bending over, he picked it up off the ground onto the page it landed on, which just happened to be the three page pin-up that came with every yearly issue. Which just happened to have to the last mare he wanted to see printed right on it.

The same beautiful face that Soarin had seen too many times already was now peeking up at him from the pages. Spitfire was lying on the ground sideways, her underside facing him with her curled in tail as the only censor for her nether regions. Her fire-orange eyes pierced him with their sharp yet sexy gaze, the half-closed orbs almost jumping up and lashing out at him from the parchment. She was biting down on her bottom lip alluringly. Soarin was a sucker for that kind of thing. Her mane, which normally stood up and resembled a flourishing flame, now flowed down her head like a blazing waterfall. Its embers were doused out by suffocating water, the hair clinging tightly to her skin as water droplets ran down in all the right places.

The usually cool and collected pegasus’s heart pounded at the sight. Blood was rushing in his ears loudly. Spitfire was and always will be hot, but this...this was eye-popping. There wasn't just one thing, it was everything. She looked...stunning. like she was some sort of living perfection. Soarin hadn’t realized it before, but when he was looking the fine, fine mare over, he was touching away at himself furiously.

Shame shot through him, the realization hitting him hard. Spitfire...Spitfire was his friend. So why in the hell is he so attracted to her? He tried to reason with himself that it was all purely physical lust, no emotional ties whatsoever. But, that was a lie. And he knew it was a lie. The poor stallion decided that it was already over for him, past the point of no return. He might as well keep enjoying the picture. And that’s exactly what he did.

Rubbing himself harder, he began fantasizing about his friend, something he hadn’t done in over six months. He imagined her on top of him, stroking his face with a smile while grinding roughly against his member. White-hot images of them pleasing each other began flashing through his head. Pictures of her between his thighs, her head bobbing up and down vigorously. Pictures of her playfully bouncing of top of him, slamming his shaft up into her soft wetness herself. Soarin was jacking himself incredibly fast now, bucking his hips up into his hoof now. Climax was coming on fast, and Soarin was ready to finish. But, then he heard something.

Hoofsteps.

Every possible profanity know to ponykind ran through his head as he peeked his head over the couch to see who in their right mind would be here this early in the morning. If it was one of his other squad-mates, it would be probably be fine, just one totally straight male running into another totally straight male jerking off. Happens all the time. But, if it was Spitfire...

Speak of the Devil.

The very last pony that he wanted to see in Cloudsdale came around the corner, humming a light, upbeat tune that practically mocked the situation. To make matters even worse, her entire body was dripping wet, only reminding Soarin of the sordid thoughts that were running through his head just moments ago. She hadn’t noticed her teammate yet, but when she finally did, she stopped dead in her tracks. Luckily, Soarin had fast enough reflexes to quickly hide the still folded out magazine behind his back.

“Hi, Spitfire!” Soarin croaked out in fake enthusiasm, hoping it would drown out the nervous tone in his voice. It didn’t. “I...I thought you said we didn’t have practice today?”

The orange pony looked at him skeptically. “We, uh, don’t. I just come here to take showers in the morning. No hot water at my house.” She eyeballed the hoof he was keeping behind his back. “What’cha got there? Porn?” She smirked, not something she did around him often.

Oh Goddess, if only she knew how right she was. “Yep, so you can just leave me alone to it! Got a lot of jacking to do, ya know?” He tried to play it off cool and sarcastic, but was failing miserably. Sweat was clustering on his brow and running down his nose.

She raised an eyebrow. “Give it to me Soarin;” She held out a hoof and beckoned for him to hand it to her. “I wanna know want the cool kids are masturbating to these days.”

Well, if was going to run, now was the time to do it. He glanced to the open door, then back to Spitfire, judging whether or not he had a chance of getting outside in time. “Well, you see, uh...”

Now or never.

Catching her off guard, he sped out of the room, wings as flat as possible for no air resistance. He made the corner before Spitfire even caught on to what he was doing. The exit was just down the hallway; he could see it from there. About nine meters away. He could make that. And he almost did.

Spitfire slammed into him before he even got two feet out of the room. Damn. She wasn't the leader of the Wonderbolts for nothing They both cascaded down to the ground hard, toppling over and somersaulting several times onto the hard tile from the already built-up momentum. Rolling together, they eventually ended up crawling to a stop. Spitfire was on top of Soarin now with her hooves on his, pinning the strong stallion down. He probably could have easily overpowered her and gotten away, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it when he saw her on top of him.

Glaring at him sternly, she began to mouth off at him almost immediately. “What has gotten into you?” She exclaimed in a high, yet autorative, voice.

Soarin braced himself for the impeding rant about how he had been so distant, about how he had been so cold.

“Listen I-” she tried to begin a sentence, but suddenly cut herself short when she fell something hard poking her inner thigh. It took a while, but eventually realized what it was with a surprised gasp and clasped her hooves over her mouth. Her hard expression softened into one of more upbeat surprise and humor. “You...you actually were masturbating, weren’t you?” She asked incredulously, eyes widening and what looked to be a huge grin forming on her cheeks.

An embarrassed groan erupted from Soarin’s lips. He rose his hooves up to his face as if could hide the shame.

Spitfire laughed heartily, enjoying her friend’s torture. It was just like old times. “So, what type of ‘reading’ material do you have here?” She shifted her weight up and over to look at the still open magazine that lay on the floor next to them. Unfortunately for Soarin, it was still opened up on the pin-up of her.

She looked back to Soarin, then to the picture, then back to Soarin. Finally, she smirked, breaking some of the tension in Soarin’s muscles under her. “Charming,” she teased sarcastically, before bending down to whisper in her friend’s ear. With a tiny nibble, she whispered to him.

“But, maybe you would like to see a little bit more than pictures?”

Instantly turning the tables of the conversation, Spitfire ever so lightly bounced herself on top of Soarin, teasing his member under her. Another long groan came from Soarin, only this time out of pleasure. “Spitfire...” His voice caught in his throat when Spitfire taunted him again.

“What was that?” She sneered mischievously, now rubbing her wet folds up and down his length provokingly. The effect on him was tremendous, his nostrils flaring as he fruitlessly tried to buck himself up into her.

“Come on...just let me...” He ground his hips up again desperately, but only finding air this time when Spitfire dodged him.

“Na-ah-ah...,” Spitfire scolded him like she was talking to a child. She stroked his mane and sneered down at him. “What’s the magic word?”

Soarin was too tried to even put up any kind of resistance when she goaded him. An eye roll was the only rebellious thing about it. But, there was still an animal inside of him, and the fiery pegasus was only rattling its cage. “Please, Spitfire.”

Her smirk nearly doubled in size. “That’s more like it.” Spitfire agreed as she carefully positioned herself above Soarin, directly over the head of his penis. With one last wink towards her squad-mate, she began her slow impalement on his slick rod.

A loud moaned rumbled from both of their mouths as the tingling, torturous sensation of him slowly spreading her folds apart hit both of them. Spitfire gradually descended on his member, sliding in deeper and deeper, until the satisfying feeling of Soarin filling her all the way up met her. With her eyes full of playful pleasure, she beamed down at Soarin innocently.

“I hope you can keep up.”

With that, she began slowly pumping up and down on Soarin. Her moans were like music to his ears, starting so soft yet gradually getting louder. The loud little pegasus eventually found a rhythm to her plunges, pushing herself upwards against Soarin’s chest, before letting go and slamming his hot cock back inside her. She looked like she was having fun, bouncing up and down on him and yelling like he some kind of ride at a park. Well, it was a ride, but that’s not the point.

Soarin was having a blast with this. He loved the way her hair would bounce every time she dropped; he loved the way that she would blush slightly every time he pounded back into her. It was like his eyes were glued on her beautiful face, like he was taking a permanent picture of this perfect point. She had her eyes closed tightly in a wild mix heavenly pleasure and wicked thrill, her wings outstretched as if she was in flight. It was so much better than the magazine, his own imagination not even close to as hot the real thing was. But, Soarin needed more. He needed so much more.

Their hips began to connect with each others’ in mid-air, Soarin’s hard thrusts now rising up to kiss hers. A twisted harmony was met in the middle silently, each of them acclimating to the new symphony of pounding. It’s a rugged, tough lovemaking, like with every smash of their groins, they were getting back at the other for every mistake they had made. It was sweaty, wet, raw. Fueled by pure emotion and lust.

Soarin finally gave into his needs and broke off all the chains of self control. Roughly grabbing Spitfire’s thighs, he began pulling her down harder and lifting her up faster, drilling into her relentlessly. The usually hardy and contained girl, being fucked as hard as she was, began yelling various interjections at the top of her lungs, Soarin’s new savage pounding doing a number on her. The sound of her flank slapping sloppily against his pelvis soon filled the room along with their moans. Sure, there could have been somepony outside that could hear them. But, then again, they could have cared.

It seemed like Soarin would go on forever like that, just madly drilling into her. But, suddenly, he flipped them both over in one swift yet smooth movement, not slipping out of Spitfire or the rhythm one bit. Now, he was on top, large and in charge. He still slammed into her relentlessly, his pace not slowed down one bit. If anything, he only pumped in and out faster. Maybe all this hard sex had underlying motives of revenge. Maybe not. But, what was undoubtedly true was that it felt amazing.

Judging by the incredibly loud moans coming out of her mouth, Spitfire was taking it rather well, too. She liked being on top, having the full dominance and control over him. But when she was being dominated? She absolutely adored it. Just the way that Soarin pinned her down as he roughly slid in and out of her...she couldn’t keep going for much longer. A fire was raging inside her, and Soarin was only pouring gas on the flames.

“S-Soarin...!” She tried to choke out in between her blissful cries, wanting to warn him of the rising climax. But, all she could ever manage to yell was his name. It was like she couldn’t think, couldn’t breath. It was all on her tongue, but it wouldn’t come out. So she did the only reasonable thing to do.

She kissed him.

It was at that moment, that very moment, with Spitfire’s mouth on his, when Soarin finally realized. Up until now, his judgment and cognition had been muddled and muffled in this wild chain of not so unfortunate events. But now, it was like her tongue had been the antidote to his poisoned mind, shaking and waking him up with a wonderful surprise at hand. He was kissing Spitfire! No, he...he was fucking her! His boss, his co-worker, and his best friend! All this time, it had felt so scripted, so...planned, like he was watching himself in a dream. But now, it seemed like it was the first time that he actually knew what was happening and what he was doing.

And he loved every second of it.

He kissed her back sensually, putting what little grace and care he had into it instead of rough and rowdiness he put into his pounding. It was odd, the way it played out. A weird mix of physical lust and emotional love. From the outside in, it appeared base. Carnal. Animalistic, even. But, when it got right down to it, when you look deeper than that, there was love there. It may not be the type of love people see in the streets, or the type of love in movies, but it was love.

The tongues flopped and struggled against each other clumsily, their owners too clouded in their own thoughts to be wrapped up in the kiss. After all, the sex was the main course. This was just a sweet and tender side dish.

Even though Soarin had been stunned and startled by the sudden intruder in his mouth, Spitfire’s message wasn't lost on him. He could tell she was close, and he knew he was getting to that point, too. But, Soarin couldn’t help the dark thoughts and questions that kept gnawing at the back of his head. What’s after this? Was this all just some kind of pity after that day? A sadistic joke? Would they just continue being teammates, pretending nothing happened? Or, something more?

Dizziness began to creep into the corners of his senses. Whether it was because of the exertion of trying not to orgasm or of the worrying thoughts, he didn’t know. All he did know was that he didn’t want this moment to end.

Forcing himself to open his eyes, Soarin scrutinized the dreamy girl below him. His gaze ran over every feature of her face, every small movement, every bead of sweat. His ears did the same, idolizing and worshiping every small grunt and squeak that would come out of her mouth. If this did actually happen to be some cruel twist of fate, then at least let him remember this picture. Let him see this when he closed his eyes, instead of that damn filthy colt on top of her.

Spitfire suddenly wrapped her forelegs tightly around Soarin’s neck and pulled him deeper, catching him off guard and luring a gasp out of his mouth. Her kiss was beginning to become a desperate stupor as she weakly rocked against the blue pegasus’s thrusts. It was obvious she wasn’t going to let go; she was clenching their bodies against each other like they would melt together if she hugged him hard enough. She was going to make sure that he would finish inside her.

Groaning from the sudden hot pressure of having their bodies sandwiched together, Soarin hoped to Celestia that she would finish soon. In one last desperate push for orgasm, he began to pound at a savage rate into her. A rewarding half-moan, half-yell in his mouth told Soarin all he needed to know.

Before anything even registered in his brain, however, Spitfire’s walls were already closed tightly around him. He wanted to last longer. He really did. But, the heat, the pressure; it felt like she was squeezing the life out of him. Like she was practically begging him to finish. Spitfire just barely broke the kiss with a groan so she could whisper against his lips “Cum inside me, Soarin. Please...”

That was the straw that broke camel’s back. Soarin just couldn’t hold back any longer with a silken voice teasing him like that. He pressed their lips together hard one last time, before a flood of emotions and sensations surged throughout his body. His mind went blank as the world spun and blurred around him. It was like that one time he got a concussion from hitting the ground too hard, but this time, it didn’t hurt. His brain must have been overloaded with some kind of mental and physical high, because, right now, his senses were on fire. Every touch felt like a million; Every color like a rainbow. For all he knew right now, he could have been having some sex-induced stroke.

Soarin shot several hot, sticky rivulets of cum into her as his brain exploded into a million unrecognizable pieces. A loud collective groan accented the intense wave of trembling that ravaged both of their bodies as they climaxed together into personal oblivion. Adrenaline had never flowed between them like this before, not even during an intense show.

Both of them floated down from euphoria together, never letting go of the other. Soarin was still sheathed to the brim inside her, while Spitfire was still kissing him with a fierce fire of passion. As they blank of Soarin’s mind gradually subsided, the spaces left by it were soon filled by the frantic questions that were there before. If he could have just made this last longer, just not have to deal with the aftermath...

He slid himself out of Spitfire and rolled himself onto his back next to her. Finally giving into the exhaustion and silence, he fell into the open arms of a worried sleep full of unsure dreams.
______________________________________________________________________________

Soarin woke up to the very thing he fell asleep to. Silence. He was in a daze of how he got here. Why was he on the floor? Why was there various fluids on him? Why was he on this dirty-ass floor?! Then, the memories hit him. Oh goodness, the memories. The sex, the questions, the magazine...it all hit him at one time, snapping him straight back to the real world.

With a groan, he struggled to sit up, his muscles stiff from sleeping on the floor. He needed to get up, but, jeez, it hurt. It felt like had slept there for days. Speaking of which, how long had he been out? An hour? A day? Just another question to add to the ever-growing list.

At least he had one answer. Spitfire was gone, only cold tile greeting Soarin as he reached over to where she once was. Looking over, he found the magazine lying there instead, still open to that one pin-up that had caused so much trouble. Except now, there was something written on it. Picking it up, Soarin took a closer look.

There was a speech bubble coming out of the posed Spitfire and inside it said:

See you at practice, cutie ;)