Lust

We walk up to Fluttershy's bedroom, and she leads the way with her silent hoofsteps. With her every step, she seems to get more and more excited. She starts walking a little faster, adding a subconscious waggle to her hips. Her panties are thoroughly soaked through, and some fluid escapes her panties and darkens her inner thighs with every step. I avert my eyes.

With my every step, I get more and more nervous. The consensus around town is that I happen to know my way around the bedroom, and it's not wrong; as with other things romance, I have read many books on the subject. That's not saying that I haven't had the occasional one-night stand with a sexy stallion, either.

I just haven't had it with a mare before, and certainly not with a mare I care for this much.

I've had sex with those stallions as a way to relieve our mutual feelings of lust, but this time, I'm having it for a completely different reason. I only hope that I can make it through myself. I bite my lip. It's not that I'm concerned I don't have the skills to perform for her—I'm somewhat aware of the proper techniques . . .

I'm scared she'll notice that I don't like it.

I swallow my anxiety and walk on. I can't let her know. Fluttershy should be able to enjoy her dream without my problems sullying it. And I should be able to enjoy it too, right? Her happiness is my happiness, right? That's what my mind tells me. Strangely, the rest of my body isn't so agreeable.

We make it up to the bedroom, and Fluttershy pushes the door open. She wastes no time in shedding her clothes: her slippers, headpiece, dress, necklace. She drops all her clothing into an undignified pile on the ground and reaches for her panties next. The moment they come off, a fresh waft of heady mare musk suffuses the room. I wrinkle my nose and try not to breathe through it.

I stare at the pile on the floor and get the instinctive urge to separate the dress and undergarments from the pile and have them both properly cleaned. The sodden state of the panties on top gives me pause, however. Instead, I clench my eyes closed and push the pile into a corner. While releasing my magic, I shudder. I never touched it, but I can still feel how wet her panties are.

I slip my shoes off my hooves, preparing to disrobe myself. The necklace comes off, and I blink at the apparent loss of sound. With the enchantment on the necklace no longer in effect, the world feels much smaller. The earrings come off next, and the bridle unbuckles. With my magic, I unclip my saddle and place all the accessories into a neat stack on the ground. Last, I slip out of my dress and fold it carefully.

All the while, I can hear Fluttershy's panting and feel the weight of her eyes on me once again, even though I'm not really trying to put on a show for her. This is not how I imagined the special day with my special somepony would be.

When meeting with important business clients or attending high society parties with such ponies in attendance, perhaps the top priority one should keep in mind is to be prepared: aware of the events that will likely happen, and aware of the conclusion that must be reached. Yet here I am, with the most important pony in my life, utterly unprepared for what the night has in store for us.

I shake off the toxic thoughts and return to reality. I turn my eyes to Fluttershy. She's sprawled out on the bed, completely naked. I freeze. Without a footboard to obscure the view, my eyes are drawn to Fluttershy's forbidden place.

As I expected, it's soaking wet, the fur around it dark and matted down. More moisture is dripping from it and dirtying the sheets under it. The nub above is pink and perked up. It's glistening and begging for something to come play with it. Her folds contract for just a moment, winking at me crudely and excreting a bit more moisture out to join the growing puddle at her crotch.

I can't move, I can't look away, I can't think of anything besides that . . . thing that I'm expected to love. I'm panting heavily, but not because I'm excited. My left eye twitches. I clench my teeth, fighting off the nausea that has come over me, and I try not to groan in disgust.

It's the thing that I've seen a thousand times before on her, but never like this. Every time previous, it was modestly tucked away: a bit of nondescript pale yellow flesh, nothing more. But now, it's exposed so blatantly and obscenely. And it's exposed to me. I want so badly to bolt out of the room, but at the same time, I can do nothing but stare at it, petrified, heart and mind racing.

It's said that sex brings on the heat, but right now, I feel so very cold. I stare at it, and it stares at me. Its mound is wet, but my mouth is dry. It screams for pleasure; I scream for—

"Rarity?"

"Aah!" I jump, shocked out of my stupor by the sudden sound. I blink a few times, finally able to wrench my eyes away from the thing. I look at Fluttershy, and she's looking at me: still a bit heated, but also concerned. I swallow.

"Are you okay? You've been standing there for a long time just looking at me," she asks.

I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. No, I can't show my weakness to Fluttershy; she doesn't need to know. She can't know. She wants something from me, but it's not my anxiety. All I need do is give her this pleasure she wants, and this will be over.

I open my eyes. "Sorry, darling. I think I'm ready now," I lie.

Fluttershy smiles eagerly, and she wriggles her hips on the bed cutely. Or, it would be cute is she was less exposed. I rip my eyes away from her crotch before I can start thinking too deeply about it again. "Come to the bed," she says slowly, extending her hooves.

I pry my hooves off the floor, stiffly walking slowly to the bed. I look at Fluttershy, her face alit with happiness and her arms outstretched invitingly. Tearing my eyes away from her powerful smile, I step up to the side of the bed . . . before walking around it and joining Fluttershy behind her. I know it's not what she was encouraging me to do, but this way, I don't have to touch it.

I ease myself onto the bed and embrace her from the back, spooning her. Fluttershy coos quietly in satisfaction and brings her hooves back in to wrap around mine. She pulls gently, drawing me closer to her. With my muzzle in Fluttershy's mane, I take a breath, breathing in that familiar and calming pine-needle scent. I sigh, feeling a bit of the coziness from our morning cuddle session return. I bury my muzzle a little deeper into her hair. Almost unconsciously, a little of my worry bleeds away.

Until she rolls over to put ourselves face-to-face. I tense up, bracing myself. Something wet and slimy rubs up against my hip. I can't see it now, but I can most definitely feel it. I clench my teeth again and bear it like I would a tooth extraction. Thank goodness hers isn't rubbing up against mine; I don't know how I would have reacted in that case.

I keep embracing her with my hooves, but my arms are stiff and stilted. I can't blink.

Fluttershy moves to wrap her hooves around me, but pauses before she does, pouting. She says, "You're so tense, Rarity. Are you sure that you're okay?"

"Yes! Of course I'm alright," I answer too quickly. I chuckle too loudly, and say, "Perhaps I'm just a little tense because this is the first time I've bedded a mare, is all!"

"Oh. That's okay." Fluttershy unfurls her wings and wraps them around me in a comforting blanket. She massages my shoulder muscles with her hooves, working out the knots that have formed in them. She brings her face close to mine so that we nuzzle cheek-to-cheek. "If it makes you feel better . . . Maybe we can start slow?"

"Y-yes," I say in a more uncertain voice than I'd like. "I would like that very much." I never thought that I would be the one lagging behind in the bedroom, but the prospect of sex and Fluttershy's eagerness for it is overwhelming me. I would never say it out loud, but I was wrong: she is moving too fast for me.

Fluttershy nods against my cheek and continues to massage my shoulders in little circles. Like a day at the spa, willingly or unwillingly, the worries in my mind slowly drift away as my body is pampered. I close my eyes and dig my snout deeper into her wings. Light sighs and moans escape my lips every time Fluttershy rubs away another knot.

My arms relax, little by little, and eventually unstiffen completely and fall naturally along Fluttershy's form. I move them around gently, enjoying the feeling of Fluttershy's coat against mine. She uses only a basic shampoo and conditioner, but her fur still manages to feel clean and soft.

Fluttershy moves her hooves away from my shoulders, their job finished. They wander to other places on my body. One traces its way around my lower back, while the other runs through my mane.

I bury my muzzle into her shoulder and breathe deeply. No matter the season or time of day, she smells of the same crushed pine needles. It's one of my favorite smells, second only to chamomile, and both are soothing.

She sighs in contentment. "You're so beautiful, Rarity," she murmurs, eyes half-closed. Both her hooves come back up to grab my face and direct it towards her own. She puckers her lips gently. I match them with mine, placing my lips softly on hers. She's only content with this arrangement for a moment, however. The next, she's prodding my lips with her tongue. I open my mouth and let her explore.

While Fluttershy caresses my mouth in a passionate dance, I press my tongue against hers, fighting back playfully. She refuses to have it and drives me back, forcing my tongue into a retreat. She continues her kiss for a long time, tracing her tongue against my teeth, my palate. She retreats and breaks the kiss only long enough for her to take a breath before releasing an involuntary needy whine and diving back into my mouth. I moan softly in response.

With a mental sigh of relief, I relax. The cuddling and kissing is more than enough to distract me from the matter at hoof . . . until Fluttershy's lips start getting adventurous.

When we separate once again, Fluttershy has resumed her panting. "I love you so much," she whispers. Her eyes are filled with heat once again, and they're eyeing my neck. She plunges her lips to it and suckles hard. There will surely be a bruise there tomorrow morning. She brings her wings back to her sides and migrates both her forehooves to my lower back. Another kiss, this one on my collarbone. Every kiss she makes is a little lower: my breast, my ribs, my belly.

The closer she gets, the more nervous I feel. I have a strong suspicion that I'm not going to enjoy what Fluttershy is about to do.

Eventually, her mouth makes it to my crotch, and her hooves make it to my thighs. Instead of diving straight in, she stares at my vagina ravenously, like a wolf would its prey. Her hot breaths reach my folds, but they only cause them to close up tighter. Fluttershy looks up, a salacious look on her face. "Are you ready?" she asks breathily.

I can't answer; my throat is locked shut. I'm breathing quickly, trying not to think about what will happen when Fluttershy reaches my marehood. Yet, that's the only thought that's on my brain, and it's screaming in protest, half of it hoping that Fluttershy will listen, and the other half praying that she won't.

Fluttershy smiles viciously and starts breathing and bobbing her head to my breaths. A chill runs down my spine, and my whole body goes cold. Fluttershy leans in, holds down my legs, and puts her tongue to my vagina.

I clench my teeth together and try to control my breathing. She's writhing her tongue about to dig into my slit, lick the outer folds, and brush against my clitoris. It's wet and lathers my vagina with icy moisture. I feel the sensations, but there is no wash of warmth that comes from between my legs and envelops my body. There is no delicious heat that builds and makes time stand still. All there is, is an unpleasant wiggling and an utter sense of wrongness.

My eyes are wide, and they're locked on her face and mouth. I want to look away, but my mind is wrenching my eyes back to her, as if it wants to masochistically confirm that yes, Fluttershy is still there. Yes, I wish that it wasn't so right now. Yes, this is utterly and completely wrong.

I can say nothing; my throat is still choked off. But from Fluttershy is no end of lusty moans coming between licks and other disgusting slurping sounds. Even if I could speak, what would I say? "Fluttershy, stop! I can't stand this!" "Fluttershy, I lied when I said I wanted to have sex with you!" It doesn't matter if it's the truth; it isn't what Fluttershy can know.

The foreplay before sex should be arousing and exciting and make the sex itself even better and more rewarding. I did enjoy the foreplay, but I wasn't at all excited by it. I didn't get wet. I didn't build anticipation towards the sex. I didn't beg for more and more of it harder. I just enjoyed it like any other cuddle session.

But Fluttershy took the foreplay far differently, it seems. She's even wetter from when we started, her fluids now leaking out from between her legs at a prodigious rate and saturating the sheets with moisture. She's constantly grinding it against the bed, smearing that wetness everywhere, getting it onto the blankets as well.

And the smell. Oh, the smell. This close to her, it's the strongest I've had it yet. Cloying and bitter, it invades my nostrils and purges any other scents that I could have taken in. Everything on Fluttershy's bed is starting to give off that smell. I don't like the scent that comes off my own body in times of heat, but this one is somehow even worse. My stomach churns, disturbed by the stench, and threatening to purge itself of its contents.

My eyes constantly flick between her face between my legs and her crotch crudely rubbing on the bed. I can't take my eyes off them. But that's not a good thing. There is no pleasure here, just unease. She can't turn me on. She can't excite me.

She can't bring me any pleasure.

"Rarity?" Fluttershy stops her ministrations and looks up to me. She looks concerned, almost fearful.

"H-huh? Yes, sweetheart?" I manage out of my turbulent thoughts.

"I . . . You're not liking it," she says despondently, looking back down, gesturing feebly between my legs. I follow her eyes. My vagina is still closed and pale, and the nub above it isn't perked up or inflamed. Aside from some saliva coating it, it looks unchanged from its normal state: thoroughly unexcited.

"I'm . . . I'm bad, aren't I?" Fluttershy hangs her head. "I'm sorry. I'm trying my best," she says sadly.

"No!" I blurt out quickly. "No, it's not your fault, Fluttershy. I . . . It's . . ." I struggle to phrase my thoughts correctly. It is indeed my fault that I can't be aroused by her ministrations, but I can't tell her the reason why. I can't tell her that it's by our fundamental and unchangeable incompatibility that she may never excite me.

"Why don't you like it, Rarity? Please, I want to know so I can fix it," she pleads.

Oh, Fluttershy, if only you could fix it; all our problems would be solved. But fixing it would entail fixing me. "I guess I'm still a little tense," I say unconvincingly.

"Oh? Then, what would make you feel better?" she asks.

I know I won't get any pleasure from this experience tonight, but I don't matter right now: Fluttershy does. I've already failed her once at giving her the experience she wants. There's a second side to this coin, though, and it may also lead to her pleasure. I say, "Perhaps I'll feel better if we . . . swap places?" Oh, dear Celestia, what did I just get myself into.

"O-oh!" she cries. "Oooh . . ." Suddenly, her creature that had fallen somewhat dormant wakes back up and produces a fresh gush of fluid onto the bed. If only I could share that excitability; I don't respond to several minutes of her oral sex, but Fluttershy is aroused with nothing but my words. "W-would you?" She rolls onto her back, displaying the thoroughly drenched thing for me to see. One of her forehooves hovers very close to it, as if she wants to rub herself off but is holding back with an immense force of will. She thrusts her hips upwards a little instead. "Because that would be very, very nice," she breathes.

Oh, dear Celestia, what did I get myself into? I stare at the creature of my undoing. It's still wet and eager, and it's not only begging to be pleasured: it's begging for me to pleasure it. It's filthy, with Fluttershy's slimy fluids having escaped her center and now wetting parts of her thighs and belly. I purse my lips. The nausea is coming back stronger.

I've volunteered myself to be the one to pleasure Fluttershy, and I must do it, somehow. If only I could summon a physical likeness of a hoof or a phallus with my magic and use that to pleasure her. But I cannot make something out of nothing. There is no way out: I will have to touch it. I can only hope that I didn't damn myself with my decision.

I slowly move a trembling hoof closer to her thing, fighting off my instinctive urge to whip it back. I'm moving my hoof to touch this writhing and wet creature slathered in smelly and unwashable slime. It feels like I'm about to dig my hoof into a bag of refuse. And I'll need to touch this thing over and over and over again.

It's barely even a touch; Fluttershy probably didn't even feel it. But the feeling of some other mare's secretions on my hoof is enough to make me whip back my hoof. I look at it shakily. It would be disgusting enough if the fluid was mine; it's even worse that it's not. I quickly wipe my hoof on the sheets.

A single touch is almost enough to make me lose my nerve. Almost. I swallow, preparing myself, and extend my hoof again.

"Um, Rarity?" A voice sounds from above me. I stop and look up. "Not to be rude, but I was kind of hoping that when you said 'swap places,' you meant . . ." Fluttershy trails off, but she cracks her mouth open and wiggles her tongue between her teeth. She quickly squeaks, retreats her tongue back into her mouth, and averts her eyes sheepishly. "I-I'm sorry," she mumbles.

Dear Luna, she wants me to put my tongue down . . . there? I swallow again. I wish that I could say "no," if only to spare my own well-being. But Fluttershy wished for it . . . and I can deny her nothing. I put on a crooked smile and say, "O-of course, Fluttershy!" I've never sounded so shaky before.

Fluttershy moans softly in anticipation and bucks her hips up and down a few times again. She smiles eagerly. My face twitches.

I look back down to the creature that I've doomed myself to pleasuring by mouth. How in Equestria am I supposed to do that? I could barely stand touching the thing with my hoof! Just the thought of putting my mouth there is nearly enough to make me retch.

I take several breaths through clenched teeth and steel my determination. I lean closer to Fluttershy's crotch, find a couple dry patches on her thighs that I can put my hooves on, and stop my mouth a few inches from the thing. Oh dear goddesses, it looks even more disgusting up close. It's not that I haven't seen one before—I have one myself, after all—I've just never seen one on a partner of mine, and my body hates the notion that my partner has one at all. And I've certainly never promised that partner that I'd be licking it.

Oh no, it's winking at me. I close my eyes to avoid looking at the obscene sight. I take a deep breath to gather myself.

But I make the mistake of breathing through my nose. This close to her, the smell of Fluttershy's excitement wafting from her crotch is absolutely overwhelming. Familiar, yet foreign, and entirely disgusting. She doesn't smell anything like pine needles.

I immediately start coughing to try to rid my lungs of the suffocating odor. I snap my eyes open from the shock. Oh fuck, it's looking at me again. All wet and glistening and begging for my tongue to come and taste its secretions. In my coughs, I didn't notice that a drop of Fluttershy's fluid somehow made its way onto the tip of my nose. Until it rolls down into my open mouth.

I can feel my heart stop.

It's bitter, thick, piercing, and rancid going down my throat. I can feel the acid in my stomach coming up, rejecting that which just fell into it. With the incredibly pungent smell, the awful taste on my tongue, and the genitals that I'm supposed to put my face into, the experience is unbearable. I wrench my head away, frantically scrub my face, and resist the urge to vomit.

I struggle in silence; one retch, and Fluttershy would know immediately what was going on. I must have spent too long gathering my stomach, however, because she asks, "Rarity?"

"I'm fine! I'm fine," I say in a panic, even though I'm feeling nothing of the sort. "J-just give me a few moments." I sit up and scamper away from her crotch, taking several lungfuls of fresh air.

It takes several more seconds for me to regain what's left of my composure. I swallow my disgust—ugghh—and lean down to try again. I haven't even licked her once yet, and I've already very nearly expelled my dinner. I don't want to try again; I really cannot bear to try again. But Fluttershy waited so long for me, and she had such high hopes. She wants me to try again; she needs me to try again.

Trembling, I extend my tongue and advance forward. Again, I pause a few inches away, unable to move any further. The prospect of the taste, the smell, the fluid on my tongue locks my muscles in place. I can taste the filth in the air.

My mind wants me to continue, to give Fluttershy the pleasure she is begging for, but the rest of my body is holding me back, utterly unable to cope with the disgusting wrongness that is pleasuring another mare.

Mutual physical attraction is nigh a requirement for mutually enjoyable sex. I'm not attracted to her, and I'm not enjoying myself at all right now. What's worse, I told her that I would provide for her to make her happy, but I can't even manage to do that. She can't bring me any pleasure . . .

Nor can I to her.

"Um . . . Rarity, are you sure you're—"

"I CAN'T DO IT!"