A gentle crackling sound accompanies my every movement. Every rise and fall of my chest. Every stroke of my marehood. Every heartbeat seems to disturb the water enough to release a hushed fury of popped bubbles in my bath. At long last, the distant clock begins to chime.

At the first of its twelve notes, I inhale a heavy, shaky breath.

At the second note I swallow hard and hold that breath.

At the third note, I rake a forehoof across my crotch in one final, delicious stroke.

At the fourth note, my wings splay out beneath me, arching my back in feverish anticipation.

At the fifth note, I clench my thighs together until my knees touch.

At the sixth note, I think I might come right here and now.

During the seventh, eighth and ninth notes, I hold my breath, still not sure if I’ve pushed myself over the crest.

At the tenth note I know that I have not.

At the eleventh note, I raise a hind hoof out of the cooling, bubbly water and rest it on the drainage valve.

As the final note rings, I push the lever, opening the valve to drain the tub.

I finally exhale.

The warm water ebbs, but my heat does not. As I stand up and brush away clumps of bubbles, steam rises visibly from my coat. My knees are a little shaky. I levitate a towel to me, running it quickly over my pink fur. I start with my face, then vigorously towel down my neck, sides, back, wings, belly and legs.

I toss the towel aside and levy a fresh pair to squeeze out my mane and tail, respectively. As I finish wrapping up my long hair, the last of the water gurgles out of the tub, leaving a thick coat of leftover bubbles. I glance in the mirror and see that my eyeliner has run a tiny bit, but not so much as to look trashy.

Satisfied, I flip off the light switch and walk into the bedroom.

Moonlight streams through the large windows. A bedside clock reads 12:01. For a moment, I wonder if the Great Watch Tower is close enough for Luna to see us through the window. I quickly dismiss the thought as irrelevant. I’m sure she’s seen much worse in everypony’s dreams by now. As I approach the bed, I start to make out the form of my sleeping husband. He is on his back, on top of the covers, as if he passed out right in the middle of that silly backstroke.

I slink around to the foot of the bed and tentatively place one hoof on the mattress. It makes a wet squishing noise, and I suddenly remember that it’s a waterbed. I scowl slightly, wondering who makes these things anymore? No matter. I close my eyes and summon a stabilizing spell. Its nature is partially telekinesis and partially temporal distortion. Its effect is simple, though: it raises me off of the carpet with but a half-flap of my wings, and it dampens the waving, rippling movements of everything around me, including the waterbed. A soft blue glow fills the room as I hover -- as if in slow motion -- closer and closer to my lover’s sleeping form.

With this spell, I need only flap my wings several times a minute. I saw Twilight use this once, as part of a laboratory procedure to avoid disturbing unstable chemicals. While working under its effects, she had looked like a glowing underwater spectre, with wings, tail and mane floating in an ethereal shroud. Tonight I couldn’t care less about lab procedures. I just want to keep from waking him, and to look damn sexy in case I do.

Within seconds, I am directly over Shining. His breaths come and go in a slow, deep rhythm. His blue mane rests haphazardly around his horn, swaying ever so gently as I sluggishly flap my wings every few seconds. His half-erect penis rests against his stomach.

I lose track of time as I stare down at him. Time to take all of that passion, all of that unfulfilled teasing from tonight, and focus it into an erotic experience worthy of royalty. Tonight, I am a Succubus, descending onto my lovely victim as he dreams a torrent of naughty visions. The whole idea of it makes me so fucking hot. Under my spell, my entire body, the bed, the whole room shimmers in faint blue incandescence.

Now I’ve stood by and waited long enough. I lower my body to his, placing a kiss on his neck. He shivers, but this only makes me more hungry. I drop kiss after kiss down his neck, chest and stomach. As I approach his loins, I see that he has unconsciously anticipated my arrival. His erection stretches nearly halfway to his chest, and the sight of it makes my stomach growl. I lower my head to it, sliding my tongue from base to tip.

Yuck. Wow. I forgot that he had been rutting me in the carriage before I had a chance to bathe. My own unwashed nethers are not exactly my favorite flavor in the world. I smack my lips in displeasure, and nervously glance up to his face. He’s still sleeping like a baby.

Suddenly I remember that my mane and tail are still wrapped in bath towels. I raise a hoof to my mouth, silencing a horrified gasp.

Jeez, Cadence, why don’t you rock some hair curlers and a mouth guard while you’re at it?

I scowl at my own sloppy preparation, shuddering to think how ridiculous I would look if he were to wake up and see a magical, floating towel lady trying to suck him off. I shake my head. So stupid!

Wait...I have an idea.

With a thought, I peel the fabric from my tail and mane, freeing my wet hair and allowing it to flow down my back and hind legs. Under the effects of the spell, some of it floats freely. I shake my head slightly to amplify the effect. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in a large window over-looking the city. Long strands of pink, purple and yellow waft gently down my neck and form a faint halo around my glowing horn. Sure enough, it looks like I’m drifting underwater. I can’t help but smile.

With one of my recently-removed towels, I gently wrap up my husband’s penis and stroke it a couple times. Under my magical grip, it is firm and eager. I slide the towels over his exposed skin, teasing and cleaning it at the same time.

After a few strokes, I toss the towel aside and resume my oral ministrations in earnest. I use the tips of my fore hoofs to grip his erection and lift it towards me. With a slight uncertainty, I touch the tip of his penis with the tip of my tongue. It tastes like bare flesh and smells like bubble bath.

Emboldened, I move a forehoof down between my thighs. I start gently, but soon find myself grinding harshly against my sensitive lower lips and the hood of my clit. The high tension from the evening's combined teasing surges ahead quickly, as if annoyed that it had been derailed so many times. Before I know it, my hoof is glistening and the fur over my fetlock is soaked. A lovely pressure builds just below my belly, and I embrace it. I moan, my mouth full of cock, as I climax. My eyes roll back. Strands of drool slide down my chin. My knees press together. My entire body aches as waves of pleasure course through me.

Under the effects of the spell, dozens of stray droplets of my sticky fluids drift free, as if in zero gravity. As my senses return, I glance down, seeing those droplets gently land upon and soak the bed spread, my legs and my husband’s hind hooves as I continue to pleasure myself.

Seeing this, something snaps inside me, and I push my head downward, thrusting his achingly stiff cock deep into my throat. As it reaches my tonsils I utter a low moan, sending vibrations through my throat, down his shaft and into his loins. I feel him twitch hungrily in response.

His breathing hastens slightly, and I begin to rapidly bob up and down, sliding his shaft past my lips and over my tongue, forcing him deeper into my throat with each motion. Now I can taste salty beads of pre-cum dribbling from the tip. I pull him all the way into my throat until his scrotum is just past my lower lip. Holding him there, I swallow. My throat constricts around his invading shaft, squeezing out another little spurt of pre-cum to nourish my starving core. He won’t last long like this.

Holding him in my mouth, I look up at his sleeping form. His hips are bucking slightly, hungry for release, but entirely dependent on me for it. Beads of sweat dot his muscular chest. Blue strands of mane hair stick to his brow. His eyes dart side to side beneath his eyelids. His horn is beginning to sputter to life, involuntarily glowing under the stress.

I lift my head, slowly removing his cock from my throat. As it slips free, I gulp in deep breaths of air. A little bit of saliva stretches from my lower lip to the tip of his penis. I lick my lips and the strand breaks.

With a flap of my wings, I swim through the air. I lift my torso upright, curl my hind legs beneath me and position my crotch over his still-thrusting hips. Steadying his shaft with my magic, I rub the tip of his erection against my clit. Beads of pre-cum mix with sticky strands of my own juices, and I shiver. Gripping him tightly, I lower myself further, forcing him into my vagina.

I grit my teeth and breath harshly through my nose. As it slides in past the halfway point, I can’t hold it anymore, and I moan at the ceiling. As I tilt my head back, my wet mane tumbles against my back and my wings. This makes me shiver and moan again.

Still sleeping, Shining bucks upwards abruptly, forcing his shaft the rest of the way inside me. I wince at the sudden stretching sensation, but the sharp pain gives way to the building pressure of another orgasm. As he continues to thrust into me, I reach down and paw at my swollen clit. This time, I barely touch it when my pelvis burns and twitches into another fiery climax.

My inner walls clamp down on his shaft, and my chest heaves in an unexpected sob. A tear slides down my cheek. My hind legs instinctively grip around his, holding his hips against mine in a vise-like grip. I sob again, overcome by the raw emotion of the moment. My vagina tenses and releases again and again. More tears fall down my cheeks, some drifting away in the spacetime anomaly of my spell, and others falling onto my teats and his stomach.

Left unchecked, my magic propels the spell even further. The two of us float a few inches above the bed spread. Wings, tails and manes float freely in the faux gravity well. Beads of sweat and other fluids drift free and orbit us in shimmering rings. All throughout, the crystal blue glow permeates the room, pulsating in time with my orgasm.

With some effort, I focus through my own aching pleasure, and see that my love is very close to his own release. His eyelids flutter open, and he looks up dizzily to meet my gaze. I blink away my tears. With a mighty flap of my wings, I tears my hips away from his, launching a slow-motion geyser of my fluids into our little orbit. He closes his eyes and opens his mouth in a silent moan of pleasure. Ignoring the mess, I drift back and kneel over him once again. I take his twitching member into my mouth, and he opens his eyes again.

My lips and tongue slide down his length until he bottoms out somewhere near my trachea. It smells and tastes like my cunt, but much cleaner than before. After two mind-numbing orgasms I don’t really care anymore, anyways. My gag reflex tries to expel him, but I forcibly keep him in place. The spasmodic clamping around his shaft is more than he can handle.

His scrotum contracts and he gasps.

His horn sparks brightly. My wings stretch out reflexively.

Our eyes meet. He has such pretty blue eyes.

I do that eyelid flutter that I know he loves.

I moan.

We close our eyes in unison.

In this moment -- right on the brink -- I’m not sure if he sees me, his highschool sweetheart and loving wife...or a ravenous, uncompromising, glowing, ethereal spectre of a Succubus.

I hope it’s both.

I really do.

Semen gushes down my throat. Wave after sticky, bitter wave. It’s so far back, I can’t even really taste it, though. My throat works in a swallowing motion until his load is spent. His breath comes in ragged gasps, and I slowly slide my head back, dislodging his member from my airway. As soon as it’s free, I gulp air hungrily.

The blue glow fades from the room. The orbiting field of debris slowly dissipates, collapsing onto the bed. My husband and I drift downward, the gravitational effect faltering and then failing with the last flicker of light. He sinks partway into the water bed, still laying on his back. I land with my knees on either side of his legs. Only moonlight is left. I glance over at the bedside clock.

12:03.

“I promised I would take care of you first thing in the morning.” I whisper lovingly.

He grunts sleepily, already drifting away again. I smile and lean forward, resting my head on his chest. His heart pounds through ribs and skin, thumping against my ear.

“And mine beats for you too, my sweet.” I murmur.

After a long moment, I get back up, and pull the blanket over to cover him up. My mane is still wet, and getting cold. I quietly walk back to the bathroom to find a blowdryer. I can hear the steady sound of his breathing. Even being in the next room feels too far away.

I need to dry off as fast as I can manage. I need to get back to him. To feel his warm embrace.

To be with him. To be whole.

To be loved.

Author's Note

Special Thanks to General Spritz and ed2481, whose suggestions helped shape the overall idea for this story.

Some alternate titles that I considered for chapter 3:
"This is What Happens When You Marry the Princess of Love"
"Spacetime Fun Tiemz"
"Later"

Things I had to Google while writing this story:
Wines whose names could be ponified (I ended up using Caberneigh)
Skeletal structure of horse legs (making sure the fetlock could conceivably get soaked during female masturbation from that angle)
Bathroom plumbing (to make sure I didn't use the wrong term for the valve)

Parts of this story I'm most proud of:
Getting to use the word "morass" in a bathtub scene
Ending up with a totally unplanned Papa Roach reference (let me know if you find it)
Writing it from start to finish in one day (a first for me)