Two ponies have a lovely time together.
Two Ponies Have a Lovely Time Together
you know who wrote this, motherfucker
The hotel wasn't as disgusting as I'd expected it to be. It was actually rather clean. Still, it was an appropriately cheap, gaudy location for the things I was going to do in it. I got some odd looks going in, probably because of the way I was dressed—it was, after all, a skanky-looking outfit, the kind a prostitute would be seen wearing. To make it worse, I've never been very good with makeup at all, and the gaudy cosmetics only added to the slutty look. It should have been quite embarrassing to anypony with a sense of dignity, but I have about as much dignity as a wild animal. Less, probably.
I rode up to the second floor in the elevator, which was a somewhat uncomfortable experience because I had to share it with a middle-aged stallion and mare. We didn't really look at each other, at least overtly, but I could tell they were sneaking the occasional appalled glance at me and wondering what happened to equine modesty. When the door finally opened on my floor, I slid out before it had even finished sliding back and almost galloped down the hallway, only slowing down when I reached door 218.
After triple-checking the slip of paper I'd tucked in the band of one of my fishnets to make sure I wouldn't be greeted by the wrong pony—how bizarre it would be, I thought, to open your door expecting room service with your dinner and find a whore there instead—I concluded that this was in fact the right room, and knocked on the door.
He didn't answer immediately, but rather took his time while I sat exposed in the hallway, half-expecting one of the other doors to open and somepony to come out and gawk at my immodest appearance. When he finally did open it, I was craning my neck to look down the hall without actually turning my body, and I whipped my head around so fast that my neck made a faint popping sound.
"Hi," I said, almost inaudible. I repeated my greeting in a marginally louder voice, then added, "It's cold out tonight—I, uh, I mean, I wish I had a jacket. I mean, hi, hello. It's kind of, I mean, can I come in? It's just, it's cold out here, I don't know, maybe I'll just stay here, if you want. Whatever you want. Sorry. Whatever you want..."
"Shut up," he finally said.
My rambling rapidly wilted into mumbling, and then into silence. For the next minute or two, he looked me over as if I were an appliance he'd just bought and unboxed; one that had a few factory defects and was the wrong colour. This made me more and more uncomfortable as time wore on, since I was still out in the too-cold hallway, waiting to be discovered by more morally upright ponies. As my nervousness increased, I started fidgeting, pulling up one of the fishnet stockings repeatedly and feeling around my middle to ensure that the heavy saddle I was wearing hadn't come loose.
"D-do you like the view?" I finally asked.
He gave me another look, this one even more disapproving, and said, "What did I just say?"
"To... to shut up... Sorry."
"Then why do you keep talking?"
I fumbled a bit and eventually came up with, "Because I'm stupid and forgot to wait for permission..."
"Smart girl... or you would be if you didn't keep proving how dumb you are."
Without saying anything, or even looking up, I nodded.
"Come inside and stand in the middle of the room so I can look at you properly," he said. "But if you talk without permission again, you're going to go back out and sit out in the front lobby for the next hour, and maybe I'll have you suck off a random pony or two. Do you understand?"
"Yes, yes, I-I understand, I'm sorry," I replied, tripping over my own words.
I sped into the room so fast that I might as well have teleported. The room was a typical cheap hotel room, with a bed and a TV and some knockoffs of famous paintings hanging on the walls and the like. I stood in the middle while he circled around me, analyzing my body, while I managed to sneak some glances at him when he was focusing on other parts of me.
He was a very big stallion, both in the literal sense and in innuendo. He was several inches taller than I was when I was standing up straight—again, both in terms of body and other things. His coat was not quite brown, and his mane was dark and earthy, and he had a large moustache that he was rightly very proud of. The moustache, along with his muscles, made him look very masculine; the very picture of a hard-working earth pony laborer.
In comparison, I am a unicorn—the most athletically uninclined of the three pony tribes. What's more, I'm not even a very good unicorn, either. My horn, short and stubby, is only good for a few basic spells, and I could hardly be called intelligent. As for my looks... Well. I have a muted autumnish colour scheme that fails to look autumnish at all, instead managing to incorporate a lot of colours one would typically associate with vomit. That night, I'd put on a saddle and socks, and I'd even put a little bow in my mane and tassle on my horn and tied my tail back, but it had about the same effect as painting a turd gold.
Apparently he did like it, though, because I did feel him brush a hoof up and down my tail, just above the dock.
"Pretty little filly," he said into my ear. "Aren't you?"
"Yeah," I mumbled, blushing.
"All dressed up and ready for her little private party..."
He mounted me from behind and rested most of his weight on my body, forcing me to struggle to hold us both up—not an easy task, since, as I've mentioned, I'm not very strong, and he was somewhat larger than me. I felt one of his hooves rubbing my belly, and at the same time I also felt something else, something big and firm, rubbing against my my thigh.
"Don't get restless," he warned me as I fidgeted beneath him. "And don't drop me, or you'll regret it, girl."
"I won't drop you. Don't worry about that. I won't, I won't drop you..."
"Good girl."
At that moment, the hoof that was rubbing my belly—which had been moving further and further down—bumped against the pitifully small but rock-hard pink rod protruding out from my groin. He stopped rubbing my belly, and instead grabbed my dick and squeezed it until I let out a whimper of discomfort He let go, then squeezed it again, even harder than the first time—a sequence that he repeated several times while my legs shook from the strain of holding him up.
"Look at you," he said to me, compressing my dick between his hooves again until I started blinking back real tears. "You're hard just from being fondled, aren't you, you little whore? You just love having your tiny dick played with by a real stallion."
I only managed to get out the first syllable of what I wanted to say before I choked on it—mostly because he chose to squeeze my balls just then—and I had to repeat myself once my testicles were no longer being crushed. "Y-yeah. I, I like it when you treat me like the cunt I am... Makes me hard..."
"You don't even have much of a cock." He ran his hoof lightly up and down my penis, lowered himself a bit, and pushed his own member under it. "Let's compare, okay?"
He pressed his dick up against mine, mashing them together and pushing his flare far past the smaller one, so that I could feel exactly how much of a difference there was between the two of us as his erect cock jabbed against my stomach.
"What do you think?" he asked. "Which one of us is bigger?"
"You are," I replied. "Much bigger. Your dick is so much bigger than my pathetic little one."
"Good girl," he said.
I felt something cold drizzle down my plot and shivered. Then I felt him rubbing the head of his dick between my asscheeks, sliding up and down with aschlllicking noise made by the lubricant as he prepared himself. It tickled my asshole a bit every time it slid over.
"Normally I'd tell you to give me a blowjob first," he told me, "but I think I'd rather do it in reverse order this time: I'll fuck your ass, and then you can blow me. You'd probably enjoy that more anyway, wouldn't you."
Silently, I nodded. Then I mumbled, "Yes, I'd love it. Thank you..."
He patted my head condescendingly. "Lucille, what do we say when somepony gives us something nice?"
"Thank you... Uh, thank you for giving me such a wonderful opportunity to pleasure... ple—pleas-sure... y-y-your, your c-cock—"
I struggled to finish my sentence as he started to enter me. Though he used some lube, my ass was still completely unprepared for the girth of his dick, so I could feel it stretching painfully every time he pushed deeper. He was grunting and saying something about how tight I was, but I couldn't fully make it out because I was wrapped up in the sensation of having my body invaded by a large, pulsating foreign object.
After quite a bit of this brutality, the muscles in my ass finally relaxed enough that he could push in most of the way and pull out again with a small pop. He fitted his cock right back into the stretched hole he'd just pioneered for himself and started to thrust his hips—whichhurt. My ass had relaxed, but it had already been stretched and brutalized to a painful degree, so every time his huge cock rammed in, I whimpered in pain and my own dick leaked precum.
"You like this?" he demanded as he slammed his cock into me. "You like getting fucked in the ass like a cheap whore?"
"Yes, yes, yes..." I could hardly give him a coherent reply.
He slapped me on the ass so hard that I squealed, and then pushed me down so that my face was pressed against the floor and my ass was in the air. Like this, he could fuck me harder, and I had to bite down on my tongue to keep from making the pained noises that I wanted to. Tears were already falling down my cheeks.
"Feel like a real mare now? This is how real mares get fucked—face on the floor and ass in the air! Answer me, Lucille! Do you feel like a real mare now?"
"Yes, yes, yes," I sobbed into the carpet. I could taste blood coming from my tongue when I added, "Thank you, thank you for making me a real—a real mare!"
Again he brought his hoof down on my plot, and this time the blow was violent enough that I knew I would probably have a bruise there for weeks. But it was nothing compared to the intense pain of having his dick raming up my asshole until it couldn't go any further and then carelessly pulling out again for another go. Each thrust made me feel too full, only for that feeling revert to complete emptiness when it came out. There wasn't even that much resistance anymore; my asshole probably felt like a velvet sock rather than an iron glove after all the stretching.
Without even bothering to warn me—because why should he?—he let out a deep moan and blew his load inside my destroyed rectum. Ropes of hot jizz exploded out of his cock and filled my insides, which I knew from the feeling of uncomfortable warmth that was radiating through me. There was a lot of cum, too: he kept shooting load after load into my ass, until the pressure started to become almost unbearable for me.
Already, there was spunk leaking out around his cock; proof that he had indeed ruined my ass with all his violent thrusting. He finally pulled out just as the pressure grew into actual pain, shooting a last few spurts onto my tail while a river of still-hot semen flowed out of my gaping, spasming anus. I didn't move much of my own volition, too worn-out and sore to do so.
He waited until my ass had stopped gushing cum—which took some time—before he finally said, "Sit up, in front of the spunk there."
In spite of my soreness, I obeyed, sitting on my haunches right in front of the rather large pool of jizz that had just come out of my ass. There were a couple of red streaks in it, I noticed. Then he showed me his cock, still covered in lube and cum and a bit of blood, and still half erect.
"Clean this," he told me. "You were a good girl most of tonight, so you can get off while you do that. But you have to shoot into the cum there, and you have to clean up your mess with your mouth after you're done."
"O-okay. Thank you, uh, thank you for allowing me to get off tonight," I said.
"Stop talking and start sucking, you stupid whore."
I took his dick in my mouth and bathed it with my tongue. The residue tasted every bit as bad as I had expected from something that had just been deep inside of my ass, but I didn't care. As I mentioned, I have less dignity than a wild animal, so I fairly enjoyed the degrading, pathetic act. I even tried to make sensuous, flicking my tongue across the head and sliding it down the shaft, only to make my way back up again.
While I slurped and licked at his member, I also reached down and took my own dick in my hoof so I could finish myself. With my hoof slicked by the cum from the floor, I started jerking off, endlessly thankful that I had been allowed to finish off my rock-hard erection at last.
"Keep sucking after you clean it," he said, slapping my cheek lightly with his hoof. "Celestia, you're such a little slut. Even when my dick's covered with your ass you still suck on it like it's a lollipop."
His cock had grown hard again from having me attend to it. It still tasted bad, but I had grown somewhat used to it now, and the awful taste was smeared all over my tongue anyway, so I could blow him fully without much trouble. I took his member into my mouth and started bobbing my head, still jacking off as I did. He responded by pushing it even further in, so that I had a throat full of cock, and I was choking and snuffling and looking up pathetically at him. He looked back at me with little sympathy.
"Don't give me that look. You like having your throat used as a cunt, you filthy degenerate..."
I gagged as he started humping my face, but I managed to not throw up. All the while, I kept clopping my dick off, sometimes pausing to slather more of the cum onto it as lube. There was a spell humming cheerfully atop my head now; one that had cupped his balls in a yellow aura and was massaging them gently.
When he came, he bucked his hips into my face very hard, making me choke again, but I couldn't have separated myself from his cock if I'd tried. Though I could tell his orgasm was weaker this time, he still shot his first spurt of jizz down my throat hard enough that I felt it splashing into my stomach. He blasted several more loads straight into my belly before finally sliding his dick out of my mouth and shooting the rest onto my face.
"Celestia, you have such a good throat," he panted.
"Thanks," I said, slurring a bit. One of my eyes was stuck shut by a big white rope of spunk now; the other one was almost halfway closed in my exhaustion.
"Finish up now. That cum on the floor isn't going to stay warm and gooey for much longer. Use your magic to get off the rug and into your whore mouth if you have to."
"Yes—Yes, okay, uh..."
I switched out my hoof for my magic, casting a new spell that surrounded my cock with yellow energy and held it with a tight yet silky grasp. This appendage started jerking up and down and vibrating at the same time, and within moments I felt my balls tighten. With a groan, I ejaculated a few pathetic spurts of jizz into the mess of cum on the floor.
"Clean it up now. All of it."
Obediently, I got down on my belly and tried tasting the pooled cum. The stuff had cooled down and started to stick to the carpet, and though it was still gooey enough to clean, it had taken on a rather coagulated texture altogether.
"Gross," I mumbled after scraping my tongue against my teeth.
"You still have to clean it up."
"Yeah."
Starting with my still-warm spunk, I began licking up the mess, bit by bit. Some of it had already seeped into the carpet, but I did my best to suck the rest up while he watched me. It had dribbled out of my ass, after all, so I knew it was my mess to clean up. I tried using my magic to get the remainder out of the rug when I was finished with what I could lick up, but as it turned out, I didn't have any spells in my extremely limited catalogue that would clean carpets.
Eventually, as I smacked my lips together and tried to come up with a solution to the problem I had encountered, he prompted me to sit up, and I did, unsure whether he was mad at me for being unable to clean up the rug or not. But he patted me on the head, like a dog, and said, "Good girl. You did very well tonight, in spite of your uselessness when it comes to doing magic. I'm very pleased with you."
"Sorry I couldn't get the rest of it out of the carpet," I said.
"You should be, Lucille. But I forgive you."
"Thanks..."
I smiled, the expression warping the tear tracks and runny mascara on my cheeks a little bit. This soon evolved into a bit of a grin.
What a lovely night I’ve had, I thought happily to myself.
