Clop, Clop

Nighttime in Canterlot. The nightlife, on all terraces, was famous throughout all of Equestria, and the world, representing the trendiness and ideal of every strata of society. Even in the palace of the Royal Alicorn Sisters there were, now and then, some very interesting nighttime rituals, when there was the proper company.

Bad Apple stood nude in the bedchamber of Princess Luna, as he often did. His mane was perfect, and his body glistening with a sweetly scented oil that the princess had earlier lovingly rubbed into his coat.
“Know you mine adoration, but know you I am a jealous mare.” The oil, redolent of aromatic resins Bad Apple could scarcely identify, poured out of what could only be a genuine Hipposian amphora, flowing slowly over his bared chest. The most distant parts of the world, not merely Equestria, had probably contributed the fragrant ingredients that were, at that moment, tickling the stallion’s nose with their harmonious unity and teasing foreignness.

“You? Jealous? You have no reason to be. I am devoted to you. Completely.” He sprawled out on the sheet that lay on the floor, giving a small, soft shiver as Luna’s bare hooves pressed in against his exposed body. The tender press of her noblemare-soft frogs made the delicious press and rub all the more pleasurable. With careful turns and subtle pressure the oil was worked into the fur of the stallion, sliding down against his skin. It was worked in deep and well, no mere surface coating easily wiped away.

“Aye, so you are. Yet do I feel a flush of anger should any other mare touch your form.” More oil poured out, making a drizzling trail down Bad Apple’s tight belly and steadily-plumping maleness. Luna’s hooves were deft and precise, working the oil into his belly and sheath, but never going past the lip of the protective covering. The velvet-soft tube shone in the brazier’s low light. “This be mine. I alone may contact this precious spire. Let the mares of the palace health baths pine and whine that they may not be thus in contact. Shall you only ever be massaged by me.” Bad Apple bit at his lower lip and groaned loudly at the almost impossibly-teasing and torturous grinding against the flesh resting within the sheath, which completely ignored every single centimeter that had emerged.

“N-no objection here! I promise you, no mare will ever touch me. I am only yours, forever.” The massage moved away, but the tease remained, his organ raging in anticipation. The oil slid over him with a ticklish touch, only to be gingerly massaged into the warm body. It almost faded into nothing, as all he could think of was the desire, raised and pulsing and needing further attention. He looked up suddenly, seeing Luna walking away.

“Await me, my love. I reward your devotion anon…”

He felt like a luxurious, pampered baked potato minus the foil. But that was his lover. It DID make him look good, the caramel coat glistening like an actual sauce. Not that he had never been covered in caramel sauce before but…

“Behold. Your sup this night.” Princess Luna did not tread the ground of her chamber. She hovered, with slow, elegant flaps of her wings. She was clothed in a beautiful reproduction of her usual archaic attire: a red dress open at the front to show a black bodice and green petticoat, all cinched loosely at the middle with a red corset. Both legs were sensuously hugged with red stockings ending in clear, heeled shoes. On her head rested a clear tiara inset with colorful gems. It was all beautiful, and not a stitch of it cloth. All the material was pureed, pressed, extruded and sealed fruit and vegetable matter: The dress pepper and tomato, the corset as well, bodice licorice, petticoat spinach and green pepper, stockings made of strawberry and raspberry fruit leather. The shoes and tiara made of rock candy carved and polished to perfection, the gems set in the tiara flavored and colored sugar.

“Oh… my… you…” The conman-quick tongue failed. Bad Apple’s eyes grew wide and appropriately hungry at the sight of Luna’s attire. He had heard of edible clothing before, and sometimes thought of broaching the subject for a laugh. Leave it to his lover to do it first and completely overboard. “How did you make that?”

“The kitchen pensionaries were salaried well, first for work and again for silence; I did design the clothing and craft it. Likewise did I sculpt sugar crystals. Each seal and carving be my love made real. Do I entice you? A meal you may savor…”

“You have always known how to make my mouth water. I’m lucky I don’t drool when I see you just in the halls. But this… oh my dear that delicious attire. It almost seems a shame to destroy it.” The stallion licked his lips and devoured the vision of perfection with starving eyes.

Luna slowly waved her lashes in a luscious, lascivious motion, tongue slowly crossing over her lips. “Devour me…” The voice was commanding, inflexible. No doubt or uncertainty about it at all. While it was a stern demand, her face was soft and adoring. “Devour me, corpus and clothing. Let not a candied stitch of sweetened raiment scape your gorging maw. And when you are finished, shall I devour you…”

“Supper is served.” Bad Apple approached with a measured eagerness, limbs trembling in his desire to run like an idiot over to the presented feast.

“Halt.” The whisper was infused with the power behind the Royal Canterlot Voice, a firm edge ringing through the mild statement. One hoof slowly lifted and then pointed to him. “Down.” She approached, walking on air as he obeyed, sitting on his haunches, letting his unashamed erection bob and slap almost comically on his oiled belly. Her sugar-shod hoof dipped down to slide along the tri-colored flesh, from dark brown at the base, pink in the midsection, and the often-mentioned angry aubergine of the top, especially the crown. The shoe had been polished and buffed to silky perfection, the teasing trace sufficient to make the stallion moan. “You shall serve as your sup is served. Consume sufficient that my tire falls. Fear not destruction or ruination. It be mere dross beside the milk and honey beneath.”

Bad Apple did not respond with words, but the dip of his head. His tongue stretched out slowly, tapping down on the shoe. Sweet. And clean. Not a single fraction had touched anything but Luna’s hooves. Her hooves, in fact, still faintly smelled of the sweet resins from the oil, adding an exotic spice to the bare sugar. He dragged his tongue along the surface, over the top and beneath, even over the long, broad-bottomed heel. He sucked gently on the heel, like a lollipop, lips pulling on it. Suddenly his teeth came to bear, taking a grip on the heel and pulling, deftly yanking the shoe off and tossing it away with a flick of his neck. As it shattered against the floor he gave a cheeky smile while his head remained obediently down turned.

“My servant be most obstreperous, even in silence. You make a great noise with just a single shoe. I, too, may make a great noise, greater than you.” Luna’s horn flared suddenly and her three other shoes shattered with an amplified tinkling, the shards of sugar bouncing off of a dark purple shield that had sprung up around Bad Apple. “Presume not to be grander than me.” The smile was matched, perfectly, by Luna, all cheek and winking, spoken by the twinkling in her eyes.

Bad Apple opened his mouth and brought those teeth back down in a sudden, firm bite. They clacked onto Luna’s rigid, keratinized hoof and started to slowly scrape over it. Her enchanted hoof was completely unscathed, but the fruit leather was pulled along, with the assistance of his lips. It not only smelled of the scented oil, he could tastes the barest hint of it. It had spread onto the fruit leather, adding a subtly-bitter bite to the sweetened dried puree. The dried fruit slid smoothly down her leg and into the hungry maw of the caramel stallion. He masticated noisily and with just a touch of drool reaching his lips. Once the entire edible stocking had been consumed he slowly licked over the hoof before him and then gave it a kiss. Redolent of perfume and the last, lingering traces of strawberry and raspberry. “Delicious. Shall I eat another?”

Princess Luna hmphed and looked piqued. “Shall you eat another? Shall an insolent stocking satiate your hunger and fan your lust? Nay! Let no bit of fruit be the stoker of your aubergine!” Luna’s horn flared again, the other three stockings tearing to shreds and falling to the floor.

Both of his hooves came up to take Luna’s, in a gentle and loving grip. His lips met the rigid top of the hood, holding for a long moment. He parted from it with the soft sound of a kiss ending, a sound that seemed to transcend the traditional description of ‘smack’ with the tenderness inherent in it. His further kisses trailed down, over the lip of the hoof and to the underside. He planted sweet kisses on her frog, still oily and fragrant from the earlier anointing. The olive oil flavor was overpowered by the bitter taste of the herbs and resin. It was for smelling, not tasting. And yet, with the love he felt, it was nothing but palatable.

Bad Apple kissed his way back to the top and licked up the hoof and leg, kissing now and then as he moved towards her chest. “Mmm, such jealousy. Such passion. Well… you did say you are a jealous lover. I like it. It’s good for my ego.” With all his dexterous capabilities he slid himself beneath Luna and bit down hard on the consumable strings of the corset, as well as the material beneath. He bit down as hard as he could and tore away, leaving a gaping hole in the attire and exposing Luna’s purple body. The combined flavor… so strange, yet so delightful. The pepper and tomato corset mingling strangely with the licorice bodice. In any other context, a monstrous mismatch. But down on the floor, by his lover’s gentle command, stripping her bare with his eating… it was a gourmet treat that could in no wise be surpassed, so far as he thought in that moment. He smiled as the corset, unstrung, opened up with an appropriately-dramatic flutter. “Well now… that was a good one. Not just the corset, I got the bodice too. I always wanted to be in one of those Harlequine bodice-rippers.”

“Aye, aye, sir sauce!” Luna reared up grandly, wings spread, back arched to allow her corset and the open-fronted dress to slide off and fall to the ground with a soft thump, leaving only the petticoat and mostly-laced bodice. “Take not overmuch pleasure in that bite. You have still more that you must consume. Gobble well.”

“I think… that’s not quite true…” He dropped lower, taking the bottom of the petticoat in his mouth and nibbling upwards, eating a trail through the attire like a hungry termite through a log. Spinach, prepared in the right way, was a treat anypony would eagerly consume. Healthful and excellent for encouraging the vigor of the body. Combined with green pepper, which moderated both color and flavor, it was beyond wonderful. Or perhaps it was the form and place. Up her legs, towards the pinnacle of her limbs, the promised place of musky honey beneath her teats.

Right as he arrived at the juncture of her rear legs he rushed under the eaten skirt and pressed his face up against her bare sex, lips working the plump folds. “All the covering in Equestria doesn’t hide the fact that I knew you’d leave this off. Looks like I found the main course.” The fall of the petticoat had left its mark thanks to the working of biology. She had been fantasizing and anticipating, making herself sticky with her arousal, which had served to dissolve some of the petticoat that had fallen against the folds. The flavor did not last long under the almost warlike lapping, but its mere presence, something new in something so familiar and loved, made that licking and slurping all the more eager and uncontrolled.

“Ah! Wicked, wicked cad! To so basely and nakedly attack the tackle of an innocent maid! And all sans bait!” Luna squirmed lightly on her rear hooves. She had been expecting it, in the abstract, but hardly so quickly. Her plumped folds squished ever so slightly against his mouth, while the slight motion of her body pressed her rounded teats against his face. She would be a fine feeder of pedigrees, as she had often said. According to the bawdy magazines, she was in a rarified atmosphere, of mares with naturally large and heavy teats. They had never been a point of pride; merely a curiosity. With a lover who could adore them, they were a point of ego.

“Thank… you that I don’t wear glasses…” Bad Apple mumbled his comment into the warm, pouting lips, pressing his face in harder, grinding the swollen bulbs of the teats against his eyes, the nipples actually poking a little bit. The change in position left him not so much eating the juicy folds but more lipping at the bottom and stretching his tongue out to lick and tickle between the spread-out lips.

“NGH! Ah! I-insolent… insu-sufferable… goatish-blooded FIRKER!” Luna’s bare hooves came down and held tightly to Bad Apple’s head, dragging him physically up and down, to grind his face against her teats and his mouth against the warm, exposed pearl of her clitoral bulge. “Be nourished of me. Guzzle you mine honeydew and work your eely member with all the quickness your mountebank skill has trained that I may give you, my servant, your earned desert!”

Bad Apple’s tongue was demonstrating its true flexibility in that moment. Even as he was dragged up and down to add extra stimulation to Luna’s fully engorged nipples and very well-sized teats, he still managed to hold his tongue flat and solid against the moaning alicorn’s button while the furthest part was angled back inward, dipping into the place that produced her musky nectar. “Nourish me, my love…” His tongue dipped down, to focus hard, wet flicks on the nub of her pleasure. “Your not-at-all-humble servant is famished.”

The trembling night goddess suddenly stood tall on her hind legs, kicking her forelegs in pleasure and flaring her wings out grandly. She unleashed a shriek amplified by the auspices of the Royal Canterlot Voice, which rang around the magically-muffled room. Not a soul outside could hear the princess strike the climax of her pleasure, but within her servitor was quite capable of hearing the cry of which he was the author.

Bad Apple was no fool, and no lazy lout. He scooted and twisted between Luna’s spread legs, clapping his mouth around her thick, warm sex, tongue driving in as deep and hard as he could manage, to work and coax her through her orgasm, and to catch as much of the delicious dew he could get out of the clutching, trembling, milking passage. It would probably feel like heaven to be in there. But, he was a wise stallion. He had all night.

The Royal Canterlot orgasmic scream slowly faded down into a low, pleasured groan, that finally faded down into a soft, gentle panting. Her horn glowed lightly and the rest of her attire tore slowly off of her body, falling to the floor with a gentle thud. “Ah, my servant. ‘Twas a most meet treatment. As ever, you have served to the fullness of your inches, and given great credit to the strength of your back.” Luna dropped down onto her hooves, which wobbled just a touch from the lingering effects of climax and the small shocks of pleasure coming from Bad Apple’s tongue continuing to writhe within her.

The probing and twisting muscle flicked and poked about within Luna’s warm passage, to get up the last of her flowing juice. Once the supply was largely exhausted his lips pulled away with a soft pop and his tongue slowly snaked out with as much twisting and slithering as possible. “My love, you know me. I back you just as much as possible. I know you love the strength of my back, but yours is firm as anything. It bears up well.” Bad Apple’s eyes were shining with tremendous mirth, expressing all the gleeful bawdiness that his broad smile could not fully display.

Luna let out a laugh, loud, long and unashamed. She had taught her lover well, in all the arts of proper bawdiness and lewd behavior of her own time. He was a dangerous one, how fast he learned. Such a pleasure to find. “I do wonder how your face remains when it seems be naught but cheek. Cheek, tongue, back and aubergine be the sum total of you, and you are ever greater than the sum of all you are.”

With a last lick of his lips, Bad Apple was clean and presentable once more, a soft rumble going through his throat, his eyes closed as he savored the last, lingering taste of Luna’s musk on his tongue. “Ahh, yes… That will serve me for a good while. Hopefully not too long. I don’t want to test how long I can savor the memory of your taste. Oh don’t get me wrong, I can remember you for a good, long time and it’s just as strong every time. But you know I love it fresh, flowing and flooding down my throat, and you always give it freely and-”

All of a sudden he was flat on his back, a soft grunt emerging from his mouth before he was smothered by a deep, hard, all-consuming kiss, a tongue dancing around freely in his mouth, tickling almost to the back of his throat. The kiss ended with a wet smack, the tongue drawn out into Luna’s grinning maw. Without a word she slid down her stallion’s reclined body, ending up facing down the slightly-pulsing and precum-glistening organ, her horn summoning up… a bowl of caramel sauce, a bowl of dried fruits and a quantity of stiff whipped cream. “I have been your food and you my servant. Now shall you be my food, and I your servant…”

Bad Apple looked down at the stiff tower of his maleness and Luna smiling lovingly behind it. His eyes closed and a moan shuddered from his lips as the sticky sauce flowed down over his organ, and small pieces of dried fruit were gently placed on the sticky flesh, to decoratively stud it. It would be a slow, ridiculously-beautiful experience of being decorated ostentatiously and then cleaned up with eager savor. The smile on his face grew bigger, becoming a giant, stupid grin, the look of a stallion given everything in the world, then getting one little thing more. And he had all night to enjoy it.