Story 4: "Why Can't You Dust Take What You're Griffon?"

There isn’t a castle around, so a nightclub will just have to do, and in this particular case, in this particular place, there’s prideful colors and a drag show. Light shafts of purple and red dance with darkness as shadowy figures beneath dance also, with fine drinks and finer conversation.

The host of all this depravity lights up on stage, his long red slip-on dress trailing behind him demurely as his pearl necklace sparkles against the spotlight, his lipstick and eye-shadow and fake eyelashes disguising his face glamorously. The noise of the colorful patrons and their equally colorful chatter drowns out Discord’s dance, not that he minds, since he’s already noticed our presence.

“Greetings, boys and girls and girly boys and boyly girls,” he says with a sashay, “welcome to a colorful copulation from Tales From the Clop.”

Discord continues dancing as he speaks, evidently confident and practiced enough to earn the stares of a handful of admirers. “It’s a different timeline, but some things haven’t really changed for Lightning Dust. For one, she’s still a loser.”

He points, down over there by the bar where a few ponies sit. She sits further away from the others, a shadow under the dim blue light, leaning back on her stool, elbows on the bar, her golden eyes scoping out the dancing colors, the colorful patrons, the drag show.

Discord twirls, his audience oohing and ahhing, only to recoil and shriek once he turns back around, his make-up now gone, his ruined face grinning menacingly. “There’s still hope for her, of course, especially in a den of inequity. But I like to think she’s looking for love in all the wrong pussies.”

As his gathered audience shrinks back in fear, Discord chuckles. “Will the Sapphire Shmuck strike out yet again, or will Gilda’s glistening grotto be the answer to her prayers? Why not mosey your cute little asses over there and find out for yourselves in ‘Why Don’t You Dust Take What You’re Griffon’?”

Story By: Bronystories
Written By: SusieBeeca
Edited By: Brony_Fife

I don't know why I bother coming here anymore, Lightning Dust thought grimly as she shuffled past the bouncer. Well, that wasn't exactly true---the Cherry Chomper was the only fillyfooler bar left in Cloudsdale, so it had a captive audience, and the owners knew it. The drinks were overpriced, the DJ had gotten complacent, and it seemed like the only mares who still bothered showing up for the paltry drag shows were either seeing somepony or married.

But tonight there was a little sliver of hope, and it took the form of a curvaceous mare sitting by herself at the bar. Lightning's ears perked at the sight of that ample ass spilling out over the back of the taped-up barstool. She couldn't see the mare’s face, but the bubbly cutie mark didn't look familiar.

A newbie? she thought as she trotted over, one hoof glossing a stray tuft back into her gelled mane. Damn! I better pounce before somepony else decides to show her the ropes.

"Hey there, honey," she said in her huskiest voice, sliding easily into the seat beside the new filly. "Are you alone toni---"

The sentence dried up in her throat when the other mare turned to face her. Her first thought was that this mare was already drunk; her second was that she was trying to pull a funny face. Eventually she realized that whatever was wrong with her eyes was probably permanent.

"Alone? Well.... not anymore, I guess!" she answered, and reached out for Lightning’s mane. "Hey, I love your highlights!"

Lightning slapped her hoof away. "Nopony touches the 'do."

She'd done that to a butch once, and it had earned her two black eyes. This odd little pegasus didn't seem to mind, however. She just giggled and apologized, using about seven or eight more words than were necessary.

Maybe she is drunk, Lightning Dust thought. Oh well... she's cute enough.

"So, uh... you come here often?"

....And she immediately kicked herself. Really? That was the best you could do? Why not ask her what her sign is while you're at it? She pressed a hoof to her temple and sighed. No wonder you got your ass handed to you at the Academy...

"Nope!" she said with a huge smile. "It's my first time!"

Leering like a lion closing in on a gazelle, Lightning put her chin on her hoof and leaned forward. "Uh-huh. What brought you here?"

"Oh, I got tired of stallions grabbing my butt every time I wanted to go out dancing, so I thought I'd try this bar on for size! No stallions here, right?" She gulped at her amaretto, hiccuped a little, and laughed through her nose.

Lightning groaned as she watched the mare do a quick scan of the bar, one eye focused on the dance floor, the other on the pegasi fly-dancing closer to the ceiling. Great. A hundred mares in here and you pick the straight one. You really are a doofus.

"Fillyfoolers are so much more polite," she went on. "They ask before they grab me! Isn't that nice? Oh gosh!" She put a hoof over her mouth when she saw her companion narrow her eyes. "Sorry, was that offensive? Should I have said 'rug-munchers' instead?"

Banging her hoof against the bar, Lightning grumbled, "You know what? This conversation's over."

"Okay!" she said brightly. "What do you want to talk about now?"

Before she could answer, a mare---well, she was probably a mare---in a multi-coloured wig jostled in between them, holding out a tray full of candy-coloured shots. "Hello, ladies! Either one of you care for a free drink?"

The grey pegasus' eyes lit up. "Free is good!"

"Sandy at the bar made these up just for Pride. They're called Rainbow Kisses!"

"Uh... no thanks," Lightning Dust muttered. She could already feel the muscles around her jawline tensing.

"C'mon, gals, they're on the house!" she chirped, waving the tray between them. Lightning eyed the shots suspiciously; while they did trigger a nasty memory, she had to admit it was pretty impressive how the bartender had managed to layer one colour of liqueur on top of the other. They really did look like little rainbows.

"Well, the house can go stick them up its ass for all I care!" came a gritty voice from behind them.

The waitress pulled the tray away from Lightning's face, and shot a nasty look over her shoulder. "Okay, okay! Jeez."

To Lightning's admittedly slightly vocal surprise, it wasn't a pegasus who elbowed the server back a few steps, but a griffon---an actual, real-live, Celestia-damned griffon! She tried not to stare. The closest she'd come to seeing one in real life was in the well-greased pages of her older brother's magazines... and this one had far more muscle than the painted birdies in "Preen Queens".

"Wow," she whispered.

The vision in front of her plucked up one of the shots, scowled, and shook it just enough to muddy the colours. "I thought queers were supposed to have good taste," she growled. "Rainbows are as tacky as a drunk clown at a funeral."

Pretending she didn't notice Lightning Dust's gawking, the griffon gave her a curt nod as she zeroed in on the empty barstool to her left.

"Calm down. You don't need to hack up a hairball," the waitress muttered.

"Well, she said she doesn't want your frou-frou girly shots, and neither do I!"

The server crinkled her muzzle. "Just doing my job here, sister."

"I'm not your sister, bitch. Now move it. You're in my way."

"Oh, for fuck's sake." The waitress scooped her tray up and went sashaying off, but not without a parting shot: "Nothing more annoying than a butch with her jockstrap in a twist!"

"Okay, that does it!" Lightning took to the air a foot behind the retreating waitress---and stopped short when she felt something warm and scaly and sharp descend on her shoulder.

"Let her go," the griffon said. "Punching a server's a three-month ban."

She gaped down at the talon that had her in an uncomfortably-tight grip. She could only imagine this was what it might feel like to be seized by a dinosaur. "Uh... and how do you know that?"

Her beak pulled up in a half-grin. "A little birdy told me."

"Wait a minute!"

They both looked to the right, and the claws digging into Lightning's flesh loosened a little. The wall-eyed pegasus was staring at them with the kind of shocked expression normally reserved for when one sees a puppy being kicked. "Guys, those were free drinks!" she exclaimed. "Free! Drinks! And you just turned them down?!"

The griffon turned to Lightning. "Friend of yours?"

"Never seen her before in my life."

She let out a throaty chuckle and crossed her eyes. "From the looks of it, neither has she."

"You two are just plain nuts!" she said over Lightning's laugh. Leaving her half-finished drink on the bar, she went loopily flying after the server, calling out, "Hey, rainbow-lady! Wait for me!"

"She fucking called her 'rainbow-lady'?" the griffon said as she plunked herself down next to the electric-blue pony. "Is she stoned or something?"

"Eh. I get the feeling she's always like that." She extended her hoof. "Name's Lightning Dust."

The talon came up to shake, but bypassed her hoof in favour of her elbow; she allowed her to turn her foreleg around a bit before adding "Um, you're supposed to grab a bit higher, you know." She had no idea why the griffon was examining the underside of her hoof as if it was booby-trapped.

"I know!" she snapped. "I'm not an idiot. It's just the last time a pony held her hoof out to me, she..." Her huge pupils suddenly shrank to pinpricks, and Lightning could swear she saw a few feathers on her neck puff out.

"...She what?"

"Nothing. Nevermind." Picking up the abandoned drink, she said, "I'm Gilda."

"So what're you doing in a pony bar, Gilda?" she asked as the griffon smoothed her feathers back down.

"What's it look like? Getting piss-ass drunk." She downed the last swallow of amaretto and almost immediately horked it right back into the glass. "Oh fuck, what the hell was that moron drinking?!" she gagged, letting her tongue loll out of her beak. "This tastes like cancer!"

"Uh...huh," Lightning Dust said, absent-mindedly. Her eyes were on that tongue, the free end of which was nearly grazing the bar. It was long, nearly three times the length of her own, and had what looked like a rough spot on the flattened tip. She realized in some faint part of her brain that Gilda must use that for grooming, if her limited knowledge of cats held any water.

Keep your cool, shithead!

She whistled for the bartender, then grinned at Gilda. "What do you usually drink? It's on me."

Gilda eyed her, eerily enough, without having to turn her head. "Why?"

"You look like a stranger in a strange land."

At first it looked like she was about to say something cutting, but the cross expression faded before it could settle. "Fine," she said as she pushed the glass away. She told the bartender "Make it a dry gin martini. Three olives. And when I say dry, I mean dry as your grandmother's pussy."

"My grandmother's dead," the barkeep answered without so much as a blink.

"Then it'll be even drier, won't it?"

She just rolled her eyes. "And for you?" she said to a scandalized-looking Lightning Dust.

"Uh, the same!" Scootching her stool a little closer to Gilda's, she said, "That's my favourite!"

"Ha! No shit?"

"Yeah, seriously! They're expensive as fuck, but they're worth it if they make 'em right."

She rested the underside of her beak---Lightning wasn't exactly sure if it could be called her chin---on her open palm, and drummed her talon-tips against her cheek. "Good to know at least one of you walking buffets has some taste."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she said, but without as much malice as she'd intended.

"Exactly what it sounded like, dumbass," Gilda countered with a smirk. "Ponies just don't have good taste."

"Oh. Is that it?" Lightning took her drink, ignoring the dirty look the bartender was shooting both of them, and used her tongue to lap up the condensation from the rim of the glass. A little spark of excitement kicked up inside her when she saw the griffon's eyes following her lapping. "I thought you meant you wanted to eat me."

With a deliberate slowness, she plucked an olive up in the very tip of her beak and tugged it off the spear. "You? Nah. I'd have to floss a little morsel like you outta my teeth."

"...You have teeth?" she asked, aware of how stupid that sounded.

She knew that side-smile was just to show off her fangs.

"Besides," Gilda went on, her voice a little lower, "Who knows what you'd taste like? Anything as colourful as you guys is automatically gag-worthy. I mean, look at this place!" She waved in the general direction of the dance floor. "You'd think a bomb went off in a crayon factory."

Lightning looked at the spangled, colour-drenched version of the Equestrian flag hanging in glittery glory above the dancing ponies. "You know what? If I never see another rainbow again, I'll die happy."

Her beak opened, and for a second it looked like she was about to blurt something out. But she clammed up again, and bolted a bit of her drink. "Jeez, and I thought I was bitter."

"It seems like every gay bar follows the same script," Lightning said, twirling her swizzle-stick. "Get a bulldyke bouncer, put rainbow shit all over the place, hire a few drag queens to prance around..."

Gilda ran a claw up the back of her neck, which made her mane bristle up into goosebumps. "You forgot the cynical, drunken pega-sister with a mullet."

She immediately smacked her talon away. "Hey! This is not a mullet! It's a pompadour!"

"Well, excuse the fuck outta me."

"And I'm not drunk," she added. "One martini doesn't do that to me. I'm no lightweight!"

Turning around so they were facing each other instead of the bar, Gilda put both her palms down on the pegasus' knees and lowered her face to look her in the eye. "So, Dusty, what you're telling me is... it'll take a few more rounds to get you loose enough to fit my fist?"

At first, she thought that meant a punch. She really did. It took a few seconds of wondering what she'd said wrong before it clicked.

The double-page spread in "Preen Queens". She'd almost forgotten about it---but she distinctly remembered thinking the photo was altered in some way, since it was impossible to be wrist-deep in someone.... right? This photoshoot has been brought to you by our sponsor, Gush-A-Lot lube! Comes in ten different flavours!

"Oh!" she gasped, hoping her blush didn't show too much. "Y-you mean---"

"Give the girl a medal," Gilda purred. She really purred.

"A medal?" She looked down at the gleaming beak---so close to her muzzle now that she could lick it if she wanted. "I always liked going for the gold."

"For Celestia's sake!"

They both looked up in surprise at the bartender, who was rubbing her temples.

"Can you ladies do me a favour and get a damn room? I don't want to have to wash sticky puddles off those barstools again."

"A room?" Gilda said as she toyed with her drink. "Don't mind if I do."

Lightning Dust considered saying 'your place or mine?', but a better idea butted that out of her head.

"Hey," she whispered in what she hoped was the griffon's ear, "Meet me in the fillies' room in five minutes."

ooooo

Lightning pushed the door open and frowned. "What are you doing?"

Gilda glanced up and grinned. She'd been holding the edge of a claw up against the side of the mirror. "Oh, just making sure this isn't a two-way."

"Two-way?"

"A two-way mirror, you idiot. You know, the kind you can see through?" She waved her closer, and when they were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, she tapped the surface. "See the little gap between the tip of my claw and its reflection?"

"Yeah, so?"

"That means it's normal. No one's watching us from the other side."

Lightning gave her own reflection a quick once-over, peeling her lips back to check for anything stuck in her teeth. "Are all griffons this paranoid, or is it just you?"

"Hey! It's not paranoia if you're right!" she snarled, her crest feathers ruffling a little. "The principal in my high school got fired 'cause he installed one of those things in the girls' dorm!"

"What, really?!"

"Yeah." She huffed a bit and folded her arms. "I'm not taking that risk again."

"Gilda?"

"Yeah?"

It started out as a giggle, and Lightning quickly coughed it into a chuckle. "You, uh, kinda forgot this is a gay bar. Even if stallions in the other bathroom could see in here, I doubt they'd be looking at our pussies." Then for good measure, she added, "Dumbass."

Oops. Her tail began to lash back and forth, a little ridge of fur puffing up along her spine---the universal warning signs that you'd pissed off a cat.

"You know a better way to tell if it's a trick mirror?" Lightning Dust said as smoothly as she could. Before Gilda could answer, Lightning turned around and bashed her hoof right between their reflections.

"Shit!"

Her wings cracked open and she took to the air just moments before the glittering pieces spilled out over the tiles. "Are you fucking crazy?!"

Lightning smiled, picking up a dagger-shaped shard and turning it over in her hooves. "Define 'crazy'."

"I can't walk on the floor now!" Gilda snapped. She lifted up a hind-paw, wiggling her toes for emphasis. "These aren't hooves, you know!"

Lightning thought she heard a little gasp when she touched the bottom of the griffon's paw, but she couldn't be sure. "Really? Are they.... sensitive?"

Gilda didn't have to answer. The way her claws shot out at the gentle brush of tongue answered for her. Carefully easing around the sharp tips, Lightning ran her tongue up Gilda's paw pads and flickered it in the soft fur between her toes, smiling when she heard a deep rumble from above her.

"Kinky little fucker," Gilda said with a grin.

Leaning back against the counter, Lightning licked her lips and used the edges of her feathers to reach into the mini saddlebag around her haunches. She'd been saving this little treat for herself, but... well, she suddenly felt like sharing. "Wanna kick it up a notch?"

"What’s that?"

She tried not to laugh as she used her teeth to shake a little out onto the broken mirror; the dusty green powder settled in more or less a line, and she used the tip of her hoof to push every last trace together. "What's it look like? Powdered Joke."

"Powdered Joke?!" Gilda landed on the counter, craning her neck down to take a closer look. "Isn't that stuff---"

"Illegal? Yeah. And awesome," she said. Pressing a hooftip against her left nostril, she cocked her head to the side and with a loud breath, inhaled as much of the line as she could. She'd been a bit generous when she'd poured it, and couldn't quite get it all in one take, leaning back and coughing a little as she wiped her fetlocks across her muzzle.

Ah, there it was; that moment of worry when nothing happened, the split-second wondering if it's been cut with Celestia-knows-what, and then---the sudden, spiking surge of warmth right under the skin. Lightning sighed in contentment as her hide prickled. It was pure.

When she opened her eyes she saw something on the griffon's face she never would have expected. Hesitation. No, fear.

"We've both been drinking," she said as her eyes flicked to the side. "Mixing that shit---"

The shrill burst of laughter surprised them both. Lightning, still cackling, threw both her forelegs around the fluffy white neck, hooking her ankles together to pull the griffon a little closer. "Giiiilda," she whispered, "I've done this before."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," she repeated, and then pressed her numbing lips against what she hoped was the safest part of her beak---the malleable part that she'd seen curl up in a smile.

It worked. That lovely long tongue she'd been ogling before slipped between her teeth and began a gentle, teasing flicker across the roof of her mouth. The salt of the olives and the gin's sharp clove aroma filled her all the way to the back of her throat, but there was something on her breath below all that---something rich and earthy, almost like mushrooms, but...

Meat. Griffons ate meat.

Years ago, on a dare, Lightning had taken a bite of raw fish. She'd been fully expecting to be disgusted, but instead she was startled by how sensuous the oily flesh was. And now, her heartbeat pounding her arteries so hard they felt like they were pressed right up against her skin, the fact that she could taste a little of it on Gilda's tongue made the blood flow a bit lower.

When they pulled apart, the griffon's pupils had dilated almost as much as her own. She knew she needed no more convincing.

"Pour me some of that shit," she murmured, and Lightning was more than happy to oblige.

For a beginner, Gilda took a mighty hit like a pro, even if she did gag a bit; after lapping the last traces from the mirror-shard, she put a talon up against her beak, licked it, and then passed it over her head in a few quick grooming flicks. The patch of fur just above her rising tail was ruffled up, just like in the magazine.

Lightning could feel her clit poke out in a wink. Shit! She's presenting!

The stall door slammed against her back before she knew what had happened; her cloudy brain was still putting the pieces together when Gilda scooped her up in her strong arms and pressed her against the wall. With her hind legs around Gilda's waist, she could feel quite a difference in the texture of the fur on her sides---rough and scratchy---and on her belly, which felt more like soft down. There was a wet sucking noise as her labia smoothly pulled against it.

"Heh. You ponies and your weird pussies," she said, tracing a knuckle down the increasingly-red cheek.

Grinding her hips around, Lightning answered between her gasps "W-w-what? You've... you've fucked a pony before?"

"Variety is the salt... sugar...? ... variety.... Oh, fuck it!" She shook her head. "I'm already too stoned to remember how that goes."

"High. You get high off Powdered Joke, not stoned."

"Aw, shuddap."

She expected Gilda to silence her with a kiss---and not shock her into it by grabbing her clit between her thumb and forefinger. Letting her head bang against the stall, she let out a shivering groan as she felt her button being manipulated between the scaly digits, tugged up a little, then pressed down by the flat of her thumb, then twisted side to side; this was so, so different from feeling it just mashed around with a hoof, so bizarre, so alien, so...

"Fuck that's hot!" she moaned, her pelvis starting to jerk around in a spastic circle.

With Gilda's cheek pressed against hers, she could feel the grin before she heard the chuckle. Before she could ask what was so funny, Gilda stopped pinching her clit and clamped it between her knuckles. She sure was glad for the throbbing bass outside, because when she began cracking and popping her joints with the erect clit trapped between them, her little pegasus lover began howling like a hyena.

Her pinion feathers quivering and stuck straight out in the Full Feather Salute, Lightning lowered one of her hooves and pressed it against Gilda's alula, grinning when she heard a whimper. She was gay, she knew that through and through, but she also considered herself pegasexual; she just couldn't imagine sex without the brush of feathers along her body. And damn if this strange creature didn't have the most crackin’ set of wings she'd ever seen! Her wingspan was easily the length of a pony's body, if not more, so wide the edges of her stiff primaries were splayed out against opposite walls. Lightning's dry mouth began to water at the thought of getting those beautiful feathers between her teeth.

But that could wait.

Shoving Gilda back, Lightning slid down to the floor, her face now just inches from the patch of fur that had turned a darker brown from the gathering moisture. With a leer, she looked up and said "Looks like that sure got you going, birdy! How long's it been since you got laid, hm?"

"Bite me."

"Oh, I've got something better than that in mind." Bopping her on the shoulder just hard enough to make her stagger back, she added, "Sit your ass down."

She did so, plunking down on the toilet, her hind legs splayed out and her tail draped over the tank. Lightning pulled her lips into her mouth and licked them in excitement. Although she normally liked teasing her lovers with bites and kisses before moving to the main course, the drugs had flattened her brain to the point of only seeing, only wanting what she'd been thinking about all night: a sweet, alcohol-flushed pussy. And there it was, right in front of her, smaller by half than a pony's, and instead of a big, winking clit, she had a tiny red nub, barely the size of a peppercorn.

Don't back down from a challenge now, 'Dusty'!

She slammed forward, smushing her muzzle against it, and groaned as she breathed in a smell she'd remember for years, a kind of loamy musk that filled her mouth with smoke and spice. The little clit was pressed against her front teeth, and when she pushed forward she could swear she felt it jump.

Gilda's talon landed in her hair---fuck it, she didn't care anymore!---and she sunk her fingers deep into the thick blonde strands, forming a fist and tugging her head to and fro. Lightning tried to get inside, but the feline cunt was so small, and her tongue so broad and flat, it wasn't easy going.

This must be what it's like to break in a virgin, she thought, and her already stiff wings began to flutter.

With a final push, she got her tongue inside, gasping around the lips at how tight it was; Gilda was no virgin, she was sure of that, but the differences in their anatomies made this pussy feel cherry nonetheless. The way it clamped and squeezed on her as she swirled her tongue around, her tastebuds grinding against the wet walls, was starting to make bright, multicoloured stars appear around the edges of her vision. It was like getting the most intimate kind of massage, and it tasted like nothing she'd ever had before.

"More," Gilda moaned. "Fuck! More!"

Ah! And there it was; after a few wonderful, slick minutes of pushing, she found that patch of texture she was hoping this strange pussy would have, too. Maybe G-spots were universal after all.

As she curled her tongue up and into the soft spongy tissue, Gilda's hips jolted enough to lift her half a foot off the toilet seat. Lightning instinctively put her hooves up to grab her haunches, and in her addled state, she didn't realize that she was trying to rub cutie marks that weren't there.

Then her eyes flew open. Gilda had let go of her pompadour and was now gently rolling her ear between her fingers. Gently. Pulling her tongue out, Lightning looked up in surprise; the griffon was staring down at her with a strange expression that was half-lust and half- ...what?

Affection, she realized, swallowing heavily. She's... she's actually being affectionate!

She must have thought the hooves stroking her hips had been a sign of affection, and had decided to return it. Again, Lightning swallowed, this time licking some of the juices off her lips. Normally any kind of tenderness made her gag---she did not make love, she just fucked.

But for some reason, that friendly gesture made her start to feel a bloom of warmth starting in the back of her throat. And when Gilda moved from touching her ear to caressing her cheek, the heat shot forward, bubbling through her whole body.

She smiled, and her lover smiled back. Something clicked.

When Lightning ducked her head back down, she aimed for that little nub instead, puckering her lips around it in a kiss; she was shocked how far she could suck it into her mouth. She wasn't sure if it was the drugs pounding her brain or the throbbing in her lips, but she thought she could feel Gilda's pulse, and began slurping in time. A hoof, moving on its own accord, slid down her belly and pressed up against her soaked sex. She paused just long enough to nibble the griffon's crinkly petals, and then dove back in, alternating between eating her out and planting kisses on her clit. Her mouth was moving faster than ever before, fueled both by the 'Joke and by the surges of pheromones washing over her like the worst kind of heat. This was so new, so hot, she almost couldn't stand it.

"Aa-aa-aah, oh fuck!" Gilda choked out as she grabbed the tense blue wings like handlebars. "Fuck, Dusty, I'm gonna---"

"Mmph!" The hot palms on her coverts made electricity shoot straight from her sensitive wings all the way down to her pussy in one hot line, and Lightning let out a muffled scream. The orgasm hit her before she knew it was coming, a tidal wave of numbing pleasure crashing down so hard it nearly wiped all conscious thought from her mind. For a few seconds she blanked on everything she'd learned about sex, everything about pleasuring a mare, and her talented mouth reverted to when she was a virgin, just earnestly exploring, licking and kissing the wetlands in front of her.

Gilda's own climax had been building for far longer, and now the smouldering fire crackled to life, her pussy spasming against Lightning's clumsy kisses. She arched her spine and let out a deafening eagle cry, squirming, squirting, even begging a little as it washed over her. As the last few spikes of bliss ebbed away, her wings slowly began to fold, and she eased back down, panting.

When she opened her eyes---which she hadn't realized she'd squeezed shut tight---Lightning Dust was staring up at her, resting a sticky cheek on the inside of her thigh. She was smiling.

"So I guess I don't have to ask if it was good, huh?" she said as she wiped a bit of juice from her forehead.

Gilda grinned. "How... Shit, how hard did I come?"

"Buckets."

This was usually the part where she got up and left, so Lightning was more than a little shocked when Gilda swooped down and grabbed her in a bear hug. She ran her long tongue up around her wet face, lapping up as much evidence as she could; the quiet cooing, chirping noises she was making led Lightning to believe that this was some sort of grooming, but she didn't know if the griffon was acting out of instinct, or... something else.

She put a foreleg around her shoulders and gave her a slightly awkward hug. "We better get out of here before that daddy-dyke bouncer finds the broken mirror."

"Pfft. Don't worry about her. She's a bottom if I've ever seen one."

Lightning laughed as she nuzzled her face into the griffon's neck. "...You wanna go back to my place?"

"Nah."

Her heart sank a little.

Seeing the look on her face, Gilda chuckled as she carefully stroked the pegasus' mane back into place. "Let's go to mine."

Lightning Dust and Gilda left maybe an hour or so ago, leaving their mess behind. Of course, not all the fluids on the floor, walls, and ceilings are theirs, but it’s apparent whoever has to clean this place has his job cut out for him.

Speaking of, a toilet flushes as Discord, clad in a janitor’s uniform with a mop slung over his shoulder, walks out of a stall. He glances at one of the surviving mirrors, noticing a bug crawling between his teeth. The pinky of his eagle talon seeks and destroys, pushing the bug into a chewier position.

Discord swallows. “I suppose you could say Lightning Dust and Gilda’s relationship,” he says with a pause as he flicks open a set of sunglasses and places them onto his face. “...Stalled!” He poses awesomely, and someplace, somewhere, there are those who cry “YEEEAAAAHHHH!”

“Always remember, boils and ghouls, winners don’t do drugs,” he says in an uncharacteristically serious voice, with an equally uncharacteristically serious face. He holds it for all of a second before breaking into a coquettish grin. “Winners take drugs and do each other in the bathroom.”

Catching a particularly nasty spot on the floor, Discord removes from his breast pocket a toothbrush and gets to work scrubbing away whatever the fluid might be. Nonchalantly, he uses the fluid as if it’s toothpaste, cleaning the mess in his mouth the bug left behind.

“One thing to keep in mind is that before you have drunken, drug-laced sex in a public place, be courteous and consider the janitorial staff who will be cleaning up after you,” Discord says, “If the housekeepers are going to be picking up shards of glass of the floor, the least you could do is invite them to watch while you screw in a stall.”

He removes from his equipment belt a bottle of cleaning detergent, unscrewing it and holding it outward as if to spill some on the floor for further cleaning. Instead, he draws it upwards to his lips and throws some into his mouth. He swishes it around, shivering at how it burns before spitting his makeshift mouthwash into the nearby sink.

“That’s all for this in-stall-ment, my frisky friends,” Discord says. “Join me next time for yet another hedonistic haunting.”