Lust

I lie in Fluttershy's all-encompassing embrace, remaining motionless while my mind is spinning. I want to satisfy her, but I can't simply jump into trying to do that without a plan. Heaven knows how poorly that went the first time I tried it.

Fluttershy moved heaven and earth to find a way to bring me pleasure, and I'll need to do something similar to work around my issues again. Just because she found a way to please me doesn't mean I've lost all my reservations about having sex with her. I certainly couldn't try the same thing she did: I don't have the skill, and I don't know if Fluttershy would be excited by it, either. Not to mention I'd need to lick her marehood to do it, and I don't think that's going to happen.

Scissoring is out of the question as well. The mere thought of my crotch ground up against hers is enough to turn me off to the idea. The grinding friction and the slathering of her slime against mine and. . . eugh. no, definitely not.

How, then? How may I pleasure Fluttershy in a way that won't offend me? In a way that works around my limitations? I can't touch it, and I can't lick it; frankly, I don't even want to see it. That . . . doesn't leave many options.

I hide a sigh of frustration. If I can't solve this problem, sex will always be a problem for us. Yes, Fluttershy may be happy now, but she won't be the third, fourth, fifth time she's left wanting. Eventually, if I can't help her, she'll have to appease her needs like a single mare on a lonely evening: forced to rub herself off by hoof or use a toy to help her along.

A . . . a toy? Would that work? I know she has some; every mare, much as any one would deny it, does. Suppose I used one with her and . . . Yes. Perhaps I can give her the pleasure that she and I both want.

"Fluttershy?" I say quietly.

"Hmm?"

I shift just a little to give my muzzle a little room to speak. "I'm happy. I'm so very happy right now, and it's all thanks to you. I want to give you that happiness back."

Fluttershy kisses my horn once. "You already have. You love me, and that makes me very happy."

Shaking my head, I unfold my hind legs and wriggle up out of her wings so that we are level with each other, eye-to-blindfolded-eye. "That's not what I meant," I say. "I'm happy. I'm content. I'm satisfied. But I know that you're not right now." I lean forward and plant a kiss . . . on the corner of her mouth (it's an improvement). "I want to fulfill that need. I want to give that happiness to you."

Fluttershy protests vehemently. "Nono, Rarity, please don't worry about me. We'll take care of it some other time, okay? Tonight, I'm fine—eep!"

Abruptly, I press the side of my hip into Fluttershy's crotch. As expected, it's still a little wet. I wince at the feeling; it’s impossible to get used to it.

"You're not," I say. "I can tell. Since you were so kind and gracious to find a way to pleasure me, I must and I will ensure that that you are not left unsatisfied tonight."

"Rarity . . ." She sounds concerned, pleading, and maybe a little exasperated. "Don't force yourself, please. I don't want to be happy if it will make you miserable. I won't let you."

Slowly, deliberately, I light my horn and lift my blindfold off of my eyes and onto my forehead. For what feels like the first time tonight, I look into Fluttershy's concerned and compassionate eyes with my own determined ones. "And I don't want to be happy if you are left wanting," I say quietly. "Please, let me do this. I want to try to give you at least half the pleasure you blessed me with. I promise, I will continue only as long as I feel comfortable, okay?

Fluttershy averts her eyes and bites her lip. It's clear that she's thinking about my proposal. After several moments of silent contemplation, she looks back at me and nods solemnly.

"Thank you." I nod and smile as warmly as I can. "Sweetheart, where is your toy box?"

A moment's hesitation, then Fluttershy points to the same dresser from which she retrieved the blindfold on my head. "F-first drawer," she says.

"Thank you." I slowly ease myself off of the bed and take a moment to stretch my legs. How is it that an evening of lying on a bed can leave me so sore? I relieve the worst of the discomfort and continue to the dresser that Fluttershy pointed to. I pull out the top drawer and survey the contents inside.

Among the panties and other undergarments in the drawer, some objects of passion lie: A bullet here, a small dildo there, some batteries, and a small bottle of lubricant rolling are around in the drawer. But in the very corner, sitting quietly but conspicuously, lies a strap-on dildo. Judging by its condition, it looks completely unused: expected, given that Fluttershy would have little use for a strap-on by herself. Perhaps it was just waiting for the perfect moment to be used. I take it out of the drawer along with the bottle of lubricant.

Keeping my back turned to Fluttershy, I sit down and slip the harness onto my hind legs. Once I pull it up as far as it will go, I stand up and shuffle the harness into place so it sits snugly over my own sex and covers it. Now I discover that the harness is made of a soft nylon, and the hilt of the dildo has a few well-placed nubs that poke into my coat and surround my clitoris. They feel strange enough now, but they lance further into my flesh and rub at my mound every time I move.

In my donning of the toy, it seems I've put on another inadvertent show for my marefriend. Behind me, I can hear Fluttershy's breaths getting progressively heavier as I shuffle about, trying to get used to the extra weight between my legs. This time, however, I welcome her attention. I shuffle around and swing my hips a bit more than strictly necessary, but the panting and little whimpers I hear in response are more than worth the superfluous sashaying.

As a final step, I open the bottle of lubricant and spread a generous supply of it over the faux-phallus attached to the harness, rendering the strap-on slick, shiny, and ready for play.

I turn around and face the bed. The first thing I notice are Fluttershy's wide eyes locked on me. They betray a number of emotions: caution, apprehension, but most of all, rekindled lust. It's an emotion that I've seen several times tonight. I'm sorry you had to wait so long, sweetheart, but soon, I will try to fulfill your desires.

My eyes track down to her mouth and the seemingly labored breaths coming from it. Father down and I see her chest heaving up and down, feeding her panting. She really is easily excited. A little farther down still, and I see—

Oh. It. It's winking and twitching obscenely, glazed over with slimy secretions. My stomach starts churning again of its own accord. I feel my left eyelid twitch as my gaze glues itself to thing and refuses to let go—

Quickly, I clench my eyes shut and shake my head vigorously. No. No! I won't let that creature beat me again! Sight has done nothing but cause me problems tonight, and memories of my time without it are nothing short of magical. I must keep myself in the dark, in more ways than one, to preserve that magic.

She is a mare, and she has the parts of a mare. But I can't let that keep me from sharing my love with her. Fluttershy is much more than her anatomy. She is a wonderful, compassionate, skilled, and sexy mare who figured out how to use my ears, of all things, to arouse me. She deserves everything I have to give. Including this.

And I won't let my eyes take that away from her!

With a final growl of determination, I draw the blindfold over my eyes once again and rob myself of my treacherous eyes. There, the blindfold will remain until the end of the night.

Rendered blind, I carefully make my way back onto the bed using touch alone. Once I bump into the bedframe, I put my forehooves on the mattress and hoist my hindquarters on the bed after them.

The moment I do that, however, my hips ram into something. Or, more accurately, the instrument attached to the harness attached to my hips rams into something. Fluttershy and I squeak simultaneously: she presumably at the cold and slippery contact, I at the unexpected stimulation. The nubs on the harness suddenly twist and rub at my clitoris. A spark of the familiar but not-at-all-unwanted comes from between my legs and washes over the rest of my body.

"Sorry, sweetheart," I say. "I've never done this before. Let me try this." I retreat and shift downwards a little, using my forehooves to gain my bearings. Once I find her thighs, I move closer, letting the phallus slip between her legs, just under her marehood. Fluttershy lets out a tiny squeak at the contact, and her hind legs spasm. I allow myself a small smile: soon enough, my lovely.

I shift my forehooves off of her thighs, crane my head upwards, and pucker my lips a little. Fluttershy takes the cue and matches my lips with her own: soft but insistent. She's pushing into my mouth rather aggressively, but this time, I'm more than willing to respond in kind, joining her in our mutual dance of not only affection, but now passion. She moans lightly into my mouth, and I moan in kind.

Our lips still locked together, Fluttershy parts her hind legs and brings them around me to draw our hips into closer contact. I gasp sharply . . . though not in disgust. I don't feel any wet patch of flesh against mine. Yes, our hips are touching, but her marehood is rubbing against the outside of the harness above the dildo, and mine is concealed underneath and covered completely by it. We are touching . . . but we don't touch at all. I summon my own hind hooves to lock her thighs in place, just as she is doing to me.

Fluttershy wiggles her hips a little. I shudder. That movement transfers into the dildo, into the nubs, into my clit, and shoots through my body again. I press forward and rub back, grinding the nylon of the harness into her folds. She gasps and moans more loudly into my mouth.

I smile at our new arrangement, curling my lips upwards against Fluttershy's own. With the strap-on between us, I don't have to touch or lick or even look at Fluttershy's sex . . . but I can bring her pleasure through it. I break from her lips just long enough to allow us both a breath; we plunge back into each other moments later. I tighten my hooves on her lower back, bringing her closer and bringing us into even more intimate contact. Whenever I stimulate her, she jerks and bumps the dildo between her legs, which stimulates me. I spasm myself in reciprocation, rubbing against Fluttershy, and the cycle of pleasure starts again.

"Oh, R-Rarity . . ." Fluttershy manages between her kisses, moans, and panting. Her words string along semi-coherently. "Are . . . are you—ooooh, goodness, Rarity, it's sommmph . . . Are-are you—"

"Speak up, sweetheart—aah!—I can't hear you!" I say between my own kisses and panting. The slightest rub from either of us is enough to excite us both, and the deliberate grind is enough to make us both writhe in pleasure.

"Are you—oh Rarity, please—enjoying this?"

Oh Fluttershy, what benevolence; even in the heat of excitement, you are concerned for my happiness and well-being . . . but your worry is unfounded. I smirk. "Absolutely!" I say, punctuating my statement with a hard grind into her marehood.

"Aah!" Fluttershy jerks forward and buries her muzzle inside my mane. I lean forward and lay her neck and collarbone with kisses to coax her head back out, all while moving my hips gently but insistently in little circles against Fluttershy's own.

Eventually, she comes back out of my mane. Another hard rub, however, and she plunges forward to capture my lips in a kiss, desperate to stifle her moaning.

Oh, sweetheart. Of course I don't want to hear your moans . . . I want to hear your screams. I pull away from her kiss, cease my gyrations, and say, "I know that you are enjoying this as well as I, Fluttershy. But I didn't put on a strap-on just to rub you off." Slowly, I move my hips away from hers, the dildo sliding smoothly out from between her thighs.

I scoot upwards just a little so that our hips are somewhat level, where the dildo should be aligned with her slit. Fluttershy squeaks again. Yes, I'm sure that some of the lubricant on the dildo may have been wiped off, but given my recipient's condition, I suspect that she has made plenty of her own at this point.

My hoof searches for her cheek. When it finds it, I say, "Are you ready, sweetheart?" It's more of a gesture than a real question. Her labored breathing, shudder on every exhale, and cloying musk of her arousal in the air are more than enough to tell me how she feels.

Thus, it comes as no surprise when Fluttershy draws a shaky breath and whispers, "Yes, Rarity. Please, make love to me."

I nod, replace my hoof on her back for some much-needed leverage, and drive forward smoothly . . . only to be stopped rather rudely when my hips aren't able to move more than a few inches before hitting what feels not unlike a wall. I pull back and retry, but again, I move forward only a little before I'm stopped. I push forward a little harder, and harness twists upwards painfully and advances no more.

Frowning, I retreat, the harness falling back down into place. That's why stallions talk of needing "good aim," I suppose. Given the blindfold over my eyes and my unwillingness to take it off, I can't tell whether the dildo is properly aligned with Fluttershy's vagina or not. "Uh, sweetheart?" I ask. "Would you mind helping me, um, line up?" I smile sheepishly.

"O-oh!" A shift on the bed as Fluttershy takes her hooves off my back and uses them to nudge the dildo down a fraction of an inch. I adjust my position accordingly.

I press forward, and I'm met with resistance once again, though it's less insistent this time. Bracing myself against Fluttershy's body, I drive forward again, and the resistance parts. I enter her forbidden folds in a single stroke.

Fluttershy squeals for the entire time I am moving. I moan in harmony with her sounds, feeling the resistance press and grind the nubs of the dildo into myself, white-hot lances of pleasure coursing through my body. Somehow, however, I keep the drive into her vagina somewhat smooth.

I stop only when I can go no further and the dildo has bottomed out inside her. I wait for Fluttershy to acclimate herself to the new sensations. She's tucked her head against my shoulders, and I can hear the shaking breaths she's drawing through her teeth. I won’t make the same mistakes that inexperienced lovers in my past did. Only when Fluttershy tells me that she is ready shall I proceed.

So we stay for a few minutes. Both my forehooves and hind hooves are wrapped fast around Fluttershy's form, locking the two of us together in closer contact than we have ever been in tonight. I don't see her marehood for obvious reasons, nor can it offend me directly touching mine.

The only thing I detect that's even mildly offensive is the distinctive thick scent of her emanating feminine arousal. Despite this, I'm glad that it's there; it means she's enjoying herself. She's not the only one, either. I can tell that at least half of the odor in the air is mine. The two scents intermingled invade the air and cling to our coats. If my screams tonight haven't informed Ponyville of our act yet, the tenacious musk of sex about us certainly will, come next morn.

Fluttershy's breaths are still heavy, but she's not breathing through her teeth anymore. "Sweetheart, are you alright?" I ask.

She takes her chin off of my shoulder and wiggles her hips around. I shiver. "Yes," she says.

"Are you ready to go on?"

"Almost." Another shuffle, then I feel a pair of lips capture my own in a tender kiss that I return in kind. When she pulls away, she says, "I love you, Rarity."

I chuckle good-heartedly. It is almost as if Fluttershy's doesn't know that those words don't need to be said anymore. Everything she does conveys that very message. Nevertheless, I respond, "I love you too."

Abruptly, I twist my hips and drive the dildo inside her just a little bit deeper. She spasms and squeals loudly. She's had her time to rest. I flash Fluttershy a vicious smile, one that foreshadows of the intense, unbearable pleasure I'm about to inflict on her. "So what say you to consummating our love in the best way possible and bringing this night to its conclusion?"

Fluttershy's lingering squeal falls into a guttural moan. When she recovers, she pecks me on a cheek, then again straight on the lips. She doesn't need to say anything for me to know what that means.

I roll on top of Fluttershy so I can get more leverage. I pull my hips back and carefully draw the dildo out of her vagina, though not all the way—I don't want to lose my place. Flexing my hooves in preparation for what is to come, I say, "On my mark. One,"

"Two," Fluttershy follows, wiggling her hips.

"Three!" We declare together as we thrust towards each other and meet explosively in the middle. We shout our joy to the world in two simultaneous cries of pure lust.

I pull back and drive down again and again, hard and full to ensure that Fluttershy feels every inch of the toy . . . every inch of me. Fluttershy responds to my thrusting with bucks of her own. The bed creaks in protest to our act.

My own drives into her are stimulating enough, but every buck, every twist, every movement that Fluttershy makes with her hips is reflected in the nubs and translated into additional pleasure. The sensation is luscious and distracting, but I fight to continue my thrusting. Moans and strangled cries of pleasure escape my throat, seemingly of their own accord.

Fluttershy, however, makes no attempt to restrain her voice: "O-ooh my goodness, Rar—nngah! You-yoou—oooohhh!" Fluttershy's vocalizations turn more and more incoherent with every additional thrust I make, and soon, she is squealing and squeaking sounds that bespeak of nothing but a mind overcome with rapture. I hear her wings flap against the bed clumsily.

"Yes, Fluttershy," I cry, "scream for me! Don't you dare hold back!" I manage through my own moans and cries of joy. I thrust into her harder and twist my hips, trying to push myself into places I've not been to before.

"aaaaAAAHHH!" The sounds from her throat reach several octaves above her usual voice. Her thrusts break tempo for a moment as she cries her joys to the heavens in a loud shriek.

The sounds only make me feel hotter and wetter. I have no illusions: the pony I am having sex with right now is a mare. But this mare is Fluttershy, my kind, forgiving, generous, sexy lover. And that is the reason why it feels so-oo good: a pony who already brought me joy once is doing everything she can to bring me to the same heights once again. And like everything that Fluttershy asks me of, I cannot deny her.

The pressure builds, faster than it did before. I thrust harder still, intent on bringing Fluttershy more joy so that she may soon crest her peak of pleasure. But the paradox of sex attacks me: the harder I thrust, the more joy I bring Fluttershy . . . but the more joy I bring myself. Quickly, all too quickly, the peak of my pleasure approaches, and I can't back away from the precipice in time.

"G-gah!" The first wave of orgasm catches me unexpectedly, and I jerk involuntarily. The second, third, fourth arrive in quick succession, the waves breaking on me and washing away my mind's capacity for higher thought. It's all I can do to keep thrusting, albeit uncoordinatedly.

Somewhere in my pleasure-addled brain, I realize that Fluttershy has not peaked with me yet, and that is a problem that I can't let go unremedied. Awash in my tides of pleasure, I forget about my reservations and all the problems I had this night. There is no room for worry when pleasure is all that matters. Impulsively, I bring a forehoof down to Fluttershy's marehood to rub at her clitoris.

She squeaks and jerks sharply; I know that I'm doing something right. While my own euphoric waves continue, I continue to thrust into her vigorously and scrub at her mound feverishly. Soon, Fluttershy's own thrusts become jerky.

As my pleasure begins to wane, I coax Fluttershy's to grow. Even as my orgasm fades away, I continue to thrust and rub at her body. Several seconds after the last waves of my orgasm leave my body, I feel every one of Fluttershy's muscles tense. I know what's coming next, and I brace for impact, thrusting my hips as hard as I possibly can against hers, burying myself deep inside her.

A beat of silence.

"GYYAHHH!" A scream higher and louder than any of Fluttershy's previous cries attacks my ears so viciously that I'm forced to fold them down. She spasms and bucks into me hard, forcing both of our hips to bounce off the bed for a moment. Strands of her mane slap my face as she thrashes her head around on the bed. I bring my hoof up from her clitoris and use all four of my legs to wrap her up tightly to lock her forehooves against her sides and her hind hooves against mine; I'm actually afraid that she may hurt herself in her throes of orgasm if I don't restrain her. Her wings snap against the bed like whips, the only appendage of hers that I can't reach.

Another scream, another buck, and a redoubling of my embrace as I ride through Fluttershy's storm of pleasure and hold on for dear life, hoping that I don't get thrown off like a seapony at the mercy of the waves.

After the first few spasms, every subsequent convulsion of hers is a little weaker. After an uncountable number of waves, Fluttershy shudders once, then falls limply to the bed, all the tension in all her muscles gone.

I loosen my hooves, roll off to her side, pull the phallus out of her ravaged sex, and survey the damage.

The flesh behind the harness is now completely drenched in my productions, and the outside is almost certainly saturated with Fluttershy's. I feel a rather large veneer of moisture covering my belly, thighs, and even my withers. Given how . . . unrestrained Fluttershy was in her throes, I have a fairly good guess for where that fluid came from. One of my hooves also feels decidedly much slimier than the other one; I certainly know how that came about. I can't imagine how ghastly our bodies look down there, but in any case, I don't have the energy to feel disgust. All I feel is . . . happiness that it happened at all, satisfaction that my lust has been quenched, and of course, contentment that Fluttershy's is as well.

I feel a pair of lips against mine. Fluttershy is kissing me, though she makes no attempt to even part her lips. I press forward in return, though I don't open my mouth either. We hold the kiss for several minutes, neither of us having the necessary energy to break it.

When Fluttershy finally finds the means to do so, I feel her nuzzle into my shoulder affectionately next. She whispers two words to me: "Thank you."

"Thank you," I whisper back. I shuffle closer and fit the dildo still attached to my hips between Fluttershy's legs once again so that we can lie close to each other. I bring my forehooves and hind hooves around her once again so that we are hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest, face-to-face. It's the most intimate hug two ponies could find themselves in.

Fluttershy wraps her hind legs about mine in reciprocation. But instead of feeling her forehooves about my barrel like I expected, I feel them on my face instead. Slowly and deliberately, they move, taking the blindfold off my face. Only then do they find their way to my barrel.

Fluttershy's face is all I can see, but it's all that I need to see. Her mane is disheveled and her coiffure has been obliterated. I don't want to know what has happened to mine. Her eyes are weary and reveal a mare who has expended all her energy. But her mouth is curled into a soft, subtle, and spellbinding smile.

She is happy. And so am I.

She draws me in for another weary kiss. When we finish, she moves her mouth away but stays close. I feel her warm breath escape from her mouth when she murmurs, "Thank you, Rarity. This is exactly what I wanted. I'm so glad we did this together, and I'm sorry I assumed too much when we began."

"I forgive you," I return quietly. "It just took a bit of . . . experimentation for us to find the right arrangement. But we found a way, and I thank you for putting up with my problems and changing my mindset. You persevered when I gave up, and you proved to me that you don't need to be male to excite me." I release my breath in a soft sigh. "There is nothing I could give that would adequately repay you your kindness."

Fluttershy shakes her head in a tiny gesture and closes her eyes while the smile remains on her face. With great effort, she heaves a wing from behind back and uses it to cover us both. I was mistaken: this is the most intimate hug imaginable. I wiggle my shoulders and tuck the wing around myself.

Fluttershy's breaths gradually slow, and her heartbeat quiets to match. Her last words are spoken to me so quietly that I can barely hear them: "You gave me your love."

The smile on her face fades slowly and is replaced with a serene line. "F-Fluttershy?" I ask with my own weary voice.

No answer. She's fallen asleep. I can't blame her, really: with the both of us thoroughly satisfied and utterly exhausted, there's nothing left to do. I can feel the claws of fatigue making their way to my eyelids as well. The strap-on is still attached to my hips, and we’re both still quite filthy, but I fear the harness will stay on and our bodies will remain unwashed until morning.

Before I surrender to sleep, however, I think about all we've accomplished in our time together. We've meditated, we've cried, we've forgiven, we've dated, and we've made love. I wouldn't call the bond between us friendship anymore, but it has grown from that into something truly remarkable.

That bond is strong, devastatingly so. It doesn't matter that she is a mare. I love her, every part of her, and while I might enjoy the masculine side of things as a rule, I would never even consider giving her up for such base pleasure. I am sure that any stallion could rut me. But no stallion, no mare, no pony—save one—could make love with me.

Fluttershy, I . . . you've always been indescribable in my eyes. I could spend the rest of my life trying to deserve your love, and I don't know if I would ever succeed. But if you really think it is enough . . . You will have my devotion, my money, my body, my soul, my love until the day I die.

"Goodnight, Fluttershy," I whisper, though I know that she can't hear me. All the better, perhaps—anything that could come from my mouth couldn't possibly convey more than a tiny fraction of the feelings I have for her. I search out a blanket that hasn't fallen off the bed and pull it over us. Then I lean forward . . . and give her a gentle kiss straight on the lips.

"I love you,” I whisper, and they’re the last words I say against her lips before letting sleep take me. Luna willing, we will mingle in our dreams.