All in all, Rainbow Dash enjoyed getting horny. It wasn’t something that she went out of her way to stir up. Indeed, days might go by without a single thought on the matter—she filled a lot of her time with raw awesome, after all—but when the warm, wiggly urge came upon her it was a good way to liven up a quiet morning, afternoon, or evening.

Sometimes all three.

What? She couldn’t be napping on her clouds all the time, now could she? She did occasionally use her own bed. Like now.

Masturbation wasn’t even one of her more awesome activities. Flying was way better. That and saving the world, which was like the coolest thing ever. Nailed it! It couldn’t compare at all.

Truth be told, Rainbow Dash mentally gauged the awesome factor of her infrequent, spontaneous mastuerbarion sessions to be about roughly equal to reading the good bits of a Daring Doo book, of which there were many. Indeed, the two activities occasionally overlapped in a casual, not-particularly-related kind of way. Usually. If she was already laying down in bed, why not do both? Today, however, she was not interested in multi-tasking her efforts.

But if there was a downside to it all, a single something that might make her frown when considering the otherwise simple, reliable and satisfactory activity that was masturbating, it was this:

Rainbow Dash never particularly knew what to think about.

Today, as every day before, her mind flickered from image to image, browsing through ideas and memories for something, anything, with that extra bit of wow. Faces, activities, fantasies. Combinations of the three that were more likely to make her giggle at the absurdity than come.

She had to get more tortoise chow from Fluttershy, she remembered idly; though, as it was, Tank had enough to last him a while. Not like he ate much. Dash rolled her eyes, trying to regain her broken stride.

Dash rolled to her side, keeping up her efforts with casual ease. Her body was...well, her body was responding, she could feel that for certain, both from inside and from the heated, smooth texture underhoof, but her mind just wasn’t in it. Grunting a breath and squinting her eyes shut, Dash concentrated on thinking up a certain special something that’d really get her feathers off.

Faces flicked across her mind’s eye. Fluttershy? Eh, certainly better than Tank, in any case. But Fluttershy didn’t really do anything for her. Mentally, Dash put her doting friend through a quick tryout anyway: poses and actions, hooves and tongues and cliches. It wasn’t that Fluttershy wasn’t very pretty—she certainly was, with dresses and flowers and that junk—but Dash wasn’t interested in getting off on pretty.

Not to mention that Fluttershy was, like, a good friend of hers, which didn’t help matters all that much.

The backdrop of Dash’s imagination flicked over to nighttime. On a whim, she put Fluttershy through bat-ification. Taking a deeper breath, she amped up the effort, just a little bit. Not bad, Dash had to admit with a kind of ambivalent, figurative nod. There was a certain kind of sexiness there, sure, and that freaky bat-tongue was promising, but the teeth it came with? Uh, no thanks.

Besides, she thought Fluttershy was so, well, shy, that the only way to imagine her getting into this kind of stuff, even in Dash’s rather easy-going imagination, was to reinvent Fluttershy’s personality entirely, to the point that the whole thing became a big joke. Or coerce her, and that sort of stuff was definitely not cool by Rainbow Dash. Just thinking of that, even in passing, knocked her back down a peg.

Grumbling again, Dash huffed out a breath and went again onto her back, her wings sprawling, half-open, out from under her. She swapped hooves with little enthusiasm, wiping the one on her hip.

Fluttershy was a bust. Dash mentally shrugged an apology to the mare.

Part of her was amused by all this, in a sarcastic kind of way, but mostly Rainbow Dash was feeling frustrated. With some willpower she could make it happen, simply hoof-power enough stimulation into her genitals to force the matter, like she could force clouds against the wind if she wanted to, but that would be making the whole thing into work. Really dull, pointless work. Today she wanted better than the minimum satisfaction.

“Ugh.” She flopped back to her side no more comfortable than she’d been before. She swapped hooves again, back to her usual. A stray idea, all glimmering and bright, bounced off her conscious. Her eyes shot open.

The Wonderbolts, of course! Ah yeah, that was a feeling she could get behind, or more specifically, on top of. Rainbow Dash hastily built the scene. Firstly, the cast: All of them. All the Wonderbolts. Buck yes! Genius!

The place? The starting line, of course, with everypony there gleaming and totally radical in their flight suits, the wind roaring far below them as the crowds cheered with crazed anticipation. The sudden, wild rush as the race started, the flurry of colours and sounds that rushed past as she pushed herself for that extra bit of speed, that extra sharp turn.

Dash was on her second imagined lap (A three-way neck-to-neck-to-neck with Soarin’ and Spitfire that sent the spectators absolutely ballistic) before she realized that she’d kind of maybe got distracted. Her clopping hoof wasn’t. She’d forgotten this whole session...thing she’d had going entirely.

The awesome daydream popped away in an instant. Growling, Dash took to pleasing herself with angry vehemence. Pulling herself up and hunching over she went at it with gritted-teeth gusto.

It wasn’t bad, actually, that little observant bit of herself noted curiously. More, you know, unrestrained. Forceful. Yeah, yeah, yeah...only...it was kind of making her hoof cramp up. And the soreness in that was a bit more notable than the sexy tingles lower down. After a few furiously fast strokes and a great, vexatious groan Rainbow Dash flopped back down.

Holding a grudge every step of the way, Rainbow Dash gave up on her imagination. With a silent, mental “Fine,” she tried to think of the really mundane, tried and true stuff.

Cocks. Bigger. Nope, bigger. Wait, no, too big. Too big was kinda gross, actually. She cropped the image. Eh, close enough. Oh, and the stallions that had those cocks, of course. Plots. Ponies that wiggled their butts. Kissing, and blowjobs, and ponies that were really into licking her stuff but not touching her hooves.

Not particularly satisfied with any of those images, she mushed them all together and threw her hapless, fictional ponies into a big senseless orgy that combined it all.

“No. No. No,” she grunted with poor patience. “Ugh.”

Maybe she needed, like, a magazine, or something? Her imagination was seriously letting her down today. She considered giving up on it altogether.

Not like Ponyville had any of that sort of, uh, specialty shop anyway. Not like she’d checked or anything, but Rainbow Dash knew her town. Did a couple ponies have little stashes they’d built up from other places, or through the mail? Maybe. Probably.

Maybe she’d think about it next time she decided to hop up to Cloudsdale, or bounce over to one of the groundside cities. Were there, like, subscriptions, with deliveries for junk like that?

The next thought bumped into her head nearly sideways: Would Twilight Sparkle know? Dash actually paused her manual efforts to snortle. Oh yeah, sure. Actually, she probably did. Didn’t they always say the quiet nerdy ones got the freakiest?

Changing up her style a bit, Dash pulled herself up with a crunch. Grabbing the pillow, she shoved it down between her legs and squeezed until it was a warm, taut pressure against her thighs. Her hooves on top to steady it, she rolled her hips and rode the motions out like waves of tingly, belly-fluttering goodness.

Twilight, eh? Dash didn’t entertain the thought seriously, but for the sheer tickly humour of it she let it play out. And she’d have that crazy-awesome librarian like putty in her hooves, no doubt of that. It’d be like magic.

Magic, heh. Sure, Twilight always had a spell for everything, too. Even sex. Why not? She slapped a dick onto that pretty purple pony princess. The look on Twilight’s face alone was more than enough for some breathless giggles to break up Dash’s stride.

“Ah, books,” Dash mimicked in a silly tone, “now, at long last, I can show you how much I really love you!”

Fantasy-Twi’s face was an exaggeration of blushing, drooling delight as she propped up a good-sized tome and lay it open on her reading desk. Imagining how Twilight would prop herself up against it, Dash let Twilight have at it, and oh how the pony took to giving herself a bookjob with such earnest enthusiasm.

It was too much. Dash had to breathe, the giggling was too much, and there was no way she could keep her own efforts. When she imagined Twilight Sparkle swapping around to go down on her book with tender, impish affection Rainbow Dash lost it altogether; it felt like she’d suffocate for want of air for laughing.

Dash pressed down with her hoof to work the pillow deeper between her legs. It felt good. Good enough to make her really want it, and really believe this would be a good one. She peeked under the edge of her friendly, helpful pillow. A telltale patch of damp was all she needed to see to get that little bit further into the sexy mood.

When it came to her, she knew this was the simplest image of all, and that made it totally genius. The best of radical, definitely. It was the image of herself, in her head, here and now. Rainbow Dash envisioned how she must look from every angle, how every part of her moved with the easy power hidden in her lean form.

Her earlier image crept back, intermingled with the newcomer. “What’cha ‘reading’ there, Twilight?” Rainbow Dash asked, unwilling and unable to keep the giggles from her voice. In her imagination she was reaching past Twilight, flipping up the cover of the book. It read:

THE BOOK OF AWESOME: RAINBOW DASH: THE BOOK.

“Ha! No wonder you can’t resist it...”

And as Twilight wiped her lips and winked coyly at the cover, she swapped places with the book again, giving those pages the full heft of her meaty bookmark. Dash knew that ponies would be so jealous, rightly so—none of them had earned a book of awesome like her— and that only stoked her arousal hotter. Without really thinking about it, she reached her idle hoof across her chest to play with her wing. The new rush of sensation was her immediate reward. It was a concentrated effort to keep humping her pillow while simultaneously working her wing over with quick, fervid strokes along its heft.

Her giggling from the silly fantasy was making her light-headed. “Yeah, Twilight, you can’t get enough of that, can you? You should totally check out chapter four. And five. Chapter six has additional reading,” she suggested coyly. “Mmm, yeah, go for it.”

Dash could hear her own husky, erratic breathing. Heck, she figured she could even smell herself, a musk permeating the air. The symptoms of her own arousal were...arousing her even more. It was awesome.

Fantasy Twilight was flushed with colour; in Dash’s mind she yelped and closed the book over her shaft, grunting cutely and tilting her head back as she added a chapter.

Deciding she was good to go herself, Rainbow Dash knocked the pillow away in a flurry of hasty kicks and furiously rubbed at herself; a mixed pattern of long gliding motions and furiously quick little circles at that one really good bit, you know, that little one.

She was moaning, and groaning, and her back was arching up spasmodically while her wings were so stiff it ached. They flapped erratically outside of her control, slapping against the bed with as much a sense of urgency as anything. Groans turned to gasps and, with her teeth gritted in a pleasured grimace, Dash finished the race.

First place, of course. And driving headlong into her victory lap.

She fell back with the sheen of sweat and the stink of sex all about her when it was over. Settling in for that well-earned nap, she dragged the intimately acquainted pillow back up to its place under her head. She groaned one last time, flipping the pillow to its dry side.

“Mmm,” she murmured as she snuggled deeper into bed and the sleep therein, “There totally
should be a Book of Awesome.”

Author's Note

If you liked this, let me know! Sufficent reaction will spur me on to do set this to 'incomplete' and write five more, one for each other pony of The Six. Have a particular request? Couldn't hurt to drop it below.