Summer on Fire

It’s already late in the afternoon as you cruise after her, banking around high rises bathed in amber light. The streets are sparsely filled, and you can enjoy the flight, watching the skillful mare ahead of you bank dangerously close to the structures. She glances back at you a few times, grinning at you as you do your best to follow her.

Spitfire veers around a bank, and circles into a small back alley, hidden away from the main street. Shooting past several small shops and markets, you watch ponies packing up their open air wares for the day. You see her land ahead of you, near a small restaurant with several old iron lights hanging off the front.

You pause as you near the door, and motion for her to go first as you open the door. Giggling at you, she walks inside. A diminutive waiter approaches, a not so clean apron around his barrel chest and a well gnawed pencil and paper in his pocket. He appears to recognize Spitfire, but says nothing, as he seats you near one of the slightly clouded windows.

You sit down, and survey the menu. It’s all classic Italian, and you’re at a loss as to what to order. The extent of your knowledge of Italian food stopped at frozen pizzas and questionable canned pastas.

“It’s okay, rookie, I’ll pick you out something, okay? I promise you’ll like it here.”

“Have you been here before?” You asked, pulling a chunk of bread off a nearby loaf. “The waiter seemed like he’d seen you before.”

“Oh…well, I may have been here a couple times. That’s ancient history though.”

Not wanting to push the matter, you soaked the hearty bread in olive oil from a nearby bottle. The slightly salty bread with its crisp crust and lightly seasoned oil together were delicious. Noticing how hungry you actually were, you went for another piece.

“Hey, you want some wine? They have some good selections here.”

The thought of any alcohol made your stomach flop slightly. Spitfire noticed the pitiful look on your face, and smiled. “Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy on you this time, okay?”

She motioned over to the waiter, and placed the order for your food. His English was rough, but passable, and he gave you a smile as she ordered for you. All you could do was dumbly grin back. He turned curtly, and headed for the kitchen.

The dimly lit restaurant was decorated plainly. Racks of dark colored wine bottles adorned one of the walls, and the other stucco walls were covered in black and white photos of various ponies, presumably the family members of the owners. As you surveyed the place, your gaze came around, noticing the mare sitting across from you. She wasn’t looking at the décor. Her eyes were staring through you, her lips slightly pursed. You immediately felt your body warm as she kept looking at you seductively.

“You know, I didn’t get my turn yet, you realize?”

“Huh?” You ask. You weren’t playing dumb. Your addled brain honestly couldn’t put two and two together at the moment.

“You had your turn, and made quite a mess of my uniform I might add.” She smirked at you. You flushed crimson as you remembered the sensual act. “That’s pretty bad form really. For the cadet to get off before his captain.”

“I…I’m sorry?” You said.

“You’re cute, you know? But that’s not good enough. You’re going to have to do better than that.”

At a slight loss as to what the mare wants, you freeze in surprise as you feel her soft hoof in yours under the table. Looking down, you realize the tiny table topped with a checkered cloth couldn’t possibly provide a big enough gap between you. She seizes your hoof in hers, pulling you towards her. You feel a twinge of hesitation as she pulls you in, her eyes half closed as she gave you a come hither gaze.

Any small amount of reservation you had melts away as you feel her thigh on your hoof, the soft, smoother fur of her most private place yielding to your curious hooftip. Her face doesn’t show any sign as she guides you in, pushing you further until the heat from her sex kisses your hoof. You hold fast for just an instant, before you push forward slightly, and in one glorious instant you’re hoof-tip deep in her glorious folds; your hoof sticky with her sopping juices. Your thoughts run crazy as you realize you’re actually touching her. It was so much different than anything you had done so far. To be feeling her like this was the most intimate thing you had ever experienced.

Sighing as you try to remember to breathe, you explore her further, glancing around to make sure the waiter had not returned. Spitfire’s guiding hoof helps you, pushing you up and down her wet slit, before holding you against her clit. She obviously fidgets when you touch her there, her stony demeanor cracking slightly. You grin to yourself, and rub it in circles, watching her shift on her seat as you feel her thighs tense around your hoof.

“That’s it, rookie, you’re doing great now.” She moaned softly. “We’ll be even in no time like this.”

She ground against you, and you could feel her pussy spasm against your hoof, winking hard and threatening to pull you into her. Her breathing was coming fast and hard, no matter how hard she was trying to control it. Feeling a rush of confidence as you brought her pleasure, you grew more adventuresome, pushing inside her when she winked, and caressing the velvety walls. You found you could pull your hoof up from inside her in one motion, catching her clit with your hooftip, and making her clutch your hoof in powerful yellow thighs.

Seemingly unnoticed to the both of you, the waiter had come back. You both froze, and he addressed you with an air of pure professionalism. Showing the bottle of wine, he uncorked it expertly, and poured two glasses. He placed a plate of toasted bread with melted cheese and tomato slices in the middle of the table. Nodding curtly to you, he turned and walked away. He either hadn’t noticed you were hoof deep in the yellow mare, or didn’t care.

“Oh, buck this.” Said Spitfire, noticeably hot and bothered. She took a long sip from her wine, and jumped to her feet, pulling you after her. You try to stay on your hooves as she pulls you towards the singular bathroom for the building, pulling you in after her, before reaching over and latching the door shut.

Your hoof is slowly cooling in the air, drenched from her snatch, as you watch her jump up on the counter in front of you. Your mind is racing as she spreads herself wide for you. Drinking in her form with your eyes, you feel her staring at you intently. She wants you to look, and it’s an amazing turn on.

Spitfire reaches to you, and pulls you tight to her fluffy chest, rubbing your mane roughly as she pushes you downward. You can see her pert little teats as your hot breath teases her stomach, your mind finally sorting things out. You move slowly down her stomach, kissing her breasts, tasting her soft skin as you explore her nethers.

The mare is bucking against you from time to time now, making soft noises as if she were silently grading your performance. You can smell her sex now, hot and feminine, so much more different than her used underclothes. You suddenly feel you need to taste her, to jam your muzzle in her box and never let go. Trailing your nose down, you see her pink clit wink widely at you, and you pounce on her, sticking your tongue inside, and tasting her dripping pussy.

Your enthusiasm more than made up for your inexperience. Her hips are bucking off the counter as you dig in deeper, teasing the inside of her snatch as you inadvertently hit the sensitive flesh as the top of her marehood, driving her closer by the minute. “Gods, yes, right there, rookie. Just keep…keep going right there.” She moaned, her entire body writhing on the counter.

Spurred on by her reaction, you double your efforts. Alternating between licking her entire slit and suckling her, you start licking her clit hard on each wink, circling it with your pink tongue. Spitfire arches her back as you keep it up, thrusting her sopping snatch into your muzzle. She throws her head back, stifling a cry. “Ahhh….ahhhh…ahhhhnnnn…” Spitfire moans softly as she cums against your muzzle, her marecum flooding your mouth. You drink greedily, relishing her salty taste as you keep lapping softly against her winking clit. Her hips keep thrusting against you for well over a minute as she rides the violent orgasm. For a couple minutes after, she only sits there, a dopey grin on her face as she looks at you, catching her breath.

Finding herself after her orgasm, she leans in towards you. “Come here a second…let me clean you up.” She says quietly. You let her pull you close, watching her start kissing your neck, licking at her own juices as she kissed you, working up to your muzzle. Her mouth slick with her own cum, she kisses you deeply, giving you a taste of her sex as she frenched you. She pulls back, and smoothes out your coat and mane, a grin on her face as she tidies you up. Checking her own face in the mirror, she pushes you out into the restaurant, guiding you back to the table nonchalantly.

The waiter eyes you strangely, but acts as if nothing had happened. He brings over your appetizer once again, fetching it from the warming box and placing it on your table as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Spitfire takes another big sip of wine, and he casually refills it. Nodding, he walks away, leaving you in peace.

Trying to take stock of the strange events, Spitfire motions to your wine glass. You follow her lead and take a sip. It’s completely different from the beers you had the other night. The alcohol is more pronounced, but a complex layer of grape and other flavors cover it. You feel flushed as you taste a slight aftertaste of Spitfire’s marecum as you wash it down with the wine. The dark red liquid goes down easy, and for some reason after the last few minutes, you have no qualms about downing half the glass in short order. You try one of the toasted bread appetizers, hungrily devouring the entire piece. It was delicious. Coated in a rich mozzarella and topped with fresh tomato with olive oil, you found yourself going back for another.

Spitfire gazes at you with a dreamy expression, rubbing your leg gently with her hoof as you sit and enjoy the food. No words were needed as you sat and looked into her fiery orange eyes, feeling a desire for her start in your chest and fill your being. The brief interlude in the bathroom had only been an appetizer.

The waiter walks over a few moments later, almost unnoticed as you both only break your gaze as he places the food in front of you. Thanking him, Spitfire explains the dish to you before she tucks in. It was a spicy red sauce over noodles, carefully seasoned with some sugar to highlight the tomato and spice. Finely diced tofu added much needed texture and gave the dish a protein. You ate happily, thankful there were no chopsticks this time.

“What do you think?” She asked, after dabbing her muzzle with a napkin.

“I like it!” You replied, around a mouthful of pasta. “I don’t think I’ve ever had food like this before.”

“Really? Fleetfoot never took you to an Italian place?”

Hesitating a moment, you realized who you were talking to. You didn’t have to hide anything from her. “Well, honestly Mom never really had any time to take us anywhere. You know she works a lot…it’s kind of expensive to live in Cloudsdale I guess.”

“It definitely can be.” Spitfire agreed.

“I mean, I know what pasta is. A lot of times Mom would make it at home, just a big pot of it with some sauce from a can. It wasn’t as good as this, but…” You found yourself trailing off. You looked at the mare across the table. She was listening intently, a look of concern on her face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin dinner or anything.”

Giving you a caring smile, she held your hoof again across the checkered tablecloth. “You don’t have to cover anything up with me, rookie. I know what she went through when she divorced that…” She hesitated.

“You can say it.”

“That…asshole.” Spitifre said, obviously content with saying it finally. “I think a lot of us didn’t know if she could make it on her own in town with just the Wonderbolt gig, and having to pay rent, bills, and take care of you too. She really gives it her all though, you know that right?”

“Yah. I do.”

“She’s a pretty awesome mare. I should know. I’ve seen a lot of ponies go through the academy, but she was always dependable, always working as hard as she could, pushing herself so she could do better each time.”

“That really sounds like her.” You said, softly. “It doesn’t leave much room for being at home though.”

Spitfire stroked your hoof, reaching over and filling your glass again, draining the last of the bottle. You brought the glass to your lips, finding solace in the liquid as it flowed through you, warming your body.

“You should know better than anyone, everything she’s done, she did for you.” Spitfire said.

“I know. That doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. Some days when I came home from school, I just wished she were there. I didn’t care if we lived in Coudsdale, or that she was a famous Wonderbolt. None of it really mattered. I would have given it all up if she could just be my Mom for a while.” You said. You looked up at Spitfire as she held your hoof. “She loved it though, didn’t she? The life of a Wonderbolt…it must be pretty awesome…”

Spitfire gave a comforting smile. “Yah, it can be. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a rush, being up there in the air in front of all those ponies, as they watch your every move with bated breath, watching to see what amazing trick you’ll pull off next. I know Fleetfoot loved it especially.”

She stroked your hoof gently now across the checkered table. “That wasn’t the reason she did it though. She told me a long time ago that she was trying to keep you in one place. She worked really hard at that, spending as many months as possible in Cloudsdale. I think she knew you hated moving from place to place.”

You really did. Looking up at the mare, you nod, finding it hard to hold back tears. Her warm hoof on yours helped.

“Fleetfoot put in a lot of those hours so she could stay here. Usually us Wonderbolts move around a lot, doing shows across the continent. But she stuck around for any odd jobs or performances that she could find in town, spending months around Cloudsdale. It’s pretty unusual for a Wonderbolt. They’re usually lucky if they get to stick around for a few weeks a year.”

“You get to stay here almost all the time.” You said.

“That’s different. I’m the head pony at the academy. There’s always new recruits to train, so I stay here almost year round.”

You took another sip of your wine, finding yourself wishing it would make you forget your problems again like the beer had the other night. “I guess I didn’t know. I always sort of blamed her for having to move all the time. I even used to yell at her, blaming her for why we couldn’t stay in Cloudsdale longer.”

“You don’t have to blame yourself, rookie. You didn’t know. She put in a lot of effort to make sure you didn’t know…”

“That doesn’t make me any less of an idiot for what I said to her.” You said.

Spitfire and you sat in silence for a while, the only motion being the dancing light of candles on the tables as they slowly melted through. She never let go of your hoof, holding you tightly as you told your story to her. Her comforting touch made it easier somehow. Finally your gaze met hers again, and her fiery eyes flickered in the candlelight as she spoke to you.

“You need to talk to her when she comes back. Everypony makes mistakes, and you and your mom are no exception. You just need to remember she never did anything to hurt you, alright? She tried her best to bring you up on her own. But even for strong ponies…sometimes their best isn’t enough. Just remember, everything she did, she did it for you, alright? I knew Fleetfoot well enough to know that.”

As you listened to the mare, some part of you wanted to not believe her. It screamed out that she was lying. There was no way you could be so wrong. Mom loved the Wonderbolt lifestyle. She loved performing. She dragged you along to all those shows and practices because it was for her.

And yet, with Spitfire here, holding your hoof tight and speaking straight from her heart, your mind knew she was right. You may have been wrong all along about your mom. It had been easy to resent her.

You held back your tears. It wasn’t easy. You clutched Spitfire’s hoof harder, and tried to push them away, willing yourself to be strong. You had to be stronger for Mom, anyways. You owed her that much, at least.

Spitfire paid the tab, and the two of you flew off to her place. It was a humid, inky night, and the lights of the buildings fought through the overcast night to be seen. Cloudsdale didn’t get fog, not exactly. But sometimes the clouds would creep in during the night and overtake city streets as the sweepers slept. The wispy high altitude cloud cover gave the streets a ghostly, other worldly appearance.

You could feel the alcohol take effect as you flew through the dark night. Spitfire was right, though. This time it was a pleasant feeling; a radiating warmth that spread from your front hooves to the tip of your tail. Following the yellow mare through the streets, it almost gave you a euphoric feeling.

Flying through the dark clouds, it seemed like a longer flight than it really was. It was only a matter of minutes before you made it back to the apartment. You stood in the brightly lit elevator, looking over at Spitfire. She was gazing back at you intently. You realize it had been like this nearly all day. Not that you were complaining. It felt strangely satisfying to have her looking at you like this.

As soon as the doors close, she shocks you slightly by leaning against you, rubbing her flank against yours. You were caught off balance at first, before you shift your weight, leaning back into her. The taller mare rests her neck on yours, rubbing her coat on your mane.

When you reach her floor, she walks down the hallway still rubbing against you. It’s not overtly sexual, but it might as well be coming from her. Just feeling her close to your body as you walk was somehow almost as good as sex. At least, right there, in that hallway, it was.

As you enter her place, she flips on the lights, dimming them low as she pours your both some water. She takes a drink, flopping onto the couch, fluffing the blanket around her thighs. She pats the sofa next to her with a wing, beckoning you over.

It’s almost like the other night. Her body was dimly illuminated by the lights, softly highlighting her curves as her partly opened thighs spread for you as she moved over to make room for you. Sitting down, she wastes no time, grabbing you in a powerful wing and holding you to her.

This time you take the lead, and bring your muzzle to hers, kissing her. Spitfire parts her lips right away, welcoming you into her. The coursing warmth of the win is making your face flush as you make out with her. Spitfire’s wing is twitching slightly, rubbing against your back as you finally break away from her. She’s staring into your eyes again, intense and seductive at once. Her hooves grasp your hips, rubbing against the sides of your stomach.

“Did you, um, did you want to…” You tried to ask her, words coming out awkwardly.

She giggled at your naivety. “You’re cute, rookie. And no, we don’t have to. We can just sit here with each other, if you want.”

“Okay.” You said softly. That sounded just fine.

Resting your head against her fluffy chest, her wing wraps around you tightly. She’s moved her hoof around your chest now, stroking your fur gently as she holds you. As you grow more comfortable against her, you reach your own hoof around her, feeling her soft skin around her muscular chest and stomach. You rub down along the outsides of her thighs, and she pushes slightly against you.

Burying your muzzle against her, you can smell her shampoo as you caress her. Your colthood is hanging at half mast, still hidden by her wing. This is almost as good as sex. Almost.

“You said I should talk to Mom when she gets home…but I don’t want to, Spitfire.”

“Why’s that?” She said softly.

“I guess I’m kind of afraid. She might find out what we’re doing. The things we've done, they were wrong, weren’t it? You could get in trouble for it…”

“Yah, I guess. But that’s also what makes it exciting. Don’t you think?” Spitfire asked.

“I think it does. I mean, when we were in the showers…I kept thinking somepony would walk in and find us. And with me wearing your uniform…there was no way we could explain it.”

“I bet you never felt as amazing as you did in that shower room though, did you?” Spitfire smirked.

You sat in silence for a moment. It was true of course. Albeit slightly embarrassing.

“It’s going to be weird keeping it from her. I’ve never had such a big secret I kept from my Mom before.”

Her hoof grazed your shaft, making you tense slightly at her touch. “That just means keeping such a big secret will make it extra hot.” She whispered to you. From your silence, she could tell it bothered you. “Look, we’ll worry about it later. I can promise you though; nothing bad is going to happen to you. I’ll make sure of it.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.” You said.

Saying nothing back to you, the mare just kept holding you tight as you watched the wispy clouds creep past the windows. You feel asleep watching the eerie shadows, Spitfire cradling your form to hers under a downy yellow wing as she started to doze off.