Controlby The FrankChaptersMind over body/Body over mind.The moment - Naughty versionUncomfortableMind over body/Body over mind.Alsesta Gourmand was sitting next to her typewriter in her Manehattan home, searching her mind for the best way to explain to the world why “The Belgo Bar” was a rotten mess not worthy of a visit even from the health department. It was easy to just write a bad review, but a simple “bad review” was not enough for Alsesta Gourmand. She always signed her reviews with her full name, wishing that if she did that long enough, it would forever erase the horrible nickname some wisecracker had given her when she was barely a coffe-bringer back in the day. It was NOT a name to be used in public and if anyone tried to get her attention using that name, she would just turn her back on that pony and leave. Alsesta Gourmand was a mare that believed in “the control”. True art, she said, and to a further extent, true life came from control. To not act on emotion, to not let the weakness of the impure flesh determine your destiny, that was her credo. Her life, and her work, had been dedicated the search for perfection. She had a reputation for being perhaps the hardest food critic in the whole country. And she had many times been bashed for it, mostly by chefs who didn't live up to her standards, but sometimes even by her fellow critics. Especially that incompetent youngster down at the Manehattan Herald. What was his name again… Naked Lunch? Over and over again he had proposed the idea that the best sign of good food was a happy stomach. Zesty had almost caused a riot when she heard the quote the first time. The stomach! THE STOMACH! Why in the name of Saint Megan would anypony let such a uncultivated body part as the stomach judge whether a meal was subpar or sufficient? The stomach, who didn't care the least of taste or smell or design! Who only cared about being stuffed! And it never even bothered to have standards! It could process anything! Oat Burgers! Muffins! Carrots! Easy-Cook grass! It couldn’t even distinguish between the rich taste of the scandineighvian Västerbotten cheese and the empty fragrance from a cheap Gouda. Anything it was given, it processed. An uncultivated pig, the stomach was. No, there were only three parts of the body that mattered when a dish was to be judged. Pro primo: The eyes. Because color and texture was equally important when balancing a dish as seasoning. Pro secundo: The nose, because the smell was supposed to be the ouverture to the symphony and harmonize with it. Not something that promised a fugue and instead turned into a mindless dance beat! And of course, the taste buds, with mouth and tongue in tow. The guardians of good taste. The knights in shining armour, protecting the body from devouring anything suboptimal. Yes, control was the key. Mind over body. To bad then that she failed miserably at it. Not that she didn't try, of course. She had a bit of a sweet tooth, and adored good old-fashioned Equestrian toffee. Hence she hadn’t bought any in more than ten years. She prefered her coffee with lots of sugar and cream, and hence she drank it as black and bitter as possible. She loved to dance, and therefore she hadn't even listened to music for years. Mind over body. But when your stepdaughter-in-law had invested in a 1000-bits coffee machine and constantly messed up her wish for BLACK coffee with a double latte made with bittersweet almond milk and a generous touch of cinnamon… Well, it was rude not to drink it, wasn't it? And when the same stepdaughter-in-law and wife, the stepdaughter, had managed to produce such an adorable little bundle of joy as step grandkid Toots, and said grandkid wanted to dance with her grandma, who was she to say no? Especially when she called her “Chef”. Oh come on, you don’t say no to that child! And finally, when now stepdaughter BonBon happened to be a prominent confectionist who made the most refined and delicious Equestrian toffee, using a mix of pecan nuts and walnuts with just a pinch of sea salt on top of it and just happened to leave a box every time she visited “Mutter Lieb”... Well, they had to be eaten, didn’t they? And it was not as if Franzbrötchen needed more fat on those hips of hers. Those hips… Alsesta found her mind wander of from searching synonyms for “appalling”. Her mind was on her wife. Franzbrötchen, or as most of the world knew her, Photo Finish. The mare that, to Alsesta’s annoyance, was her whole life. Her beautiful cyan fur. That special smile she saved exclusively for “mein engelchen” as she usually called her. And mmmm… That raunchy german accent, always teasing, always jesting. Always making her smile. And she despised it. Stupid mare. Stupid, stupid mare. Stupid, stupid, damn-she’s-sexy-for-being-over-50-have-you-seen-those-legs mare. Her body had now broken free from the chains the mind put on it, and Alsesta found her hand, much to her surprise, had made their way a good part down her pants and in between her thighs. She drew back her hand as had it been stung by a wasp ...Only for it to slowly sneak back and go straight for the honey-pot without regards. Ah, well… She was alone anyway. And after all, you should always have sex with someone you love. Ah yes… Ah yes… this was good. This was nice. This was... "F-franzie..." “Are jo sitting here touching jor naughty parts all alone, mein engelchen?” Immediately she withdrew her hand from its previous position and regained her stiff composure. Where the hay did she come from? How in the world could Franzbrötchen, the loudest mare in Equestria, always sneak up on her? She managed to switch her face from flustered to annoyed. She hoped. “No, Franzbrötchen, I am not. I am working.” “Bah!” Franzbrötchen had grabbed her hand, lifted it to her nose, and had taken a deep sniff. “Zis is not ze smell of work! Zis is the smell of debauchery! Jah!” Alsesta could barely watch as her wife slowly and thoroughly kissed her fingers, one by one, tasting them as were they some exclusive dish at a five star restaurant. “Ah! Aaah… Zis… is ze taste of mare… Ja, there can be no mistake! Were jo zinking about me, perhaps, mein engelchen?” She pulled back her hand. “I did nothing of the kind, and stop with your infamous insinuation! You are childish.” “Is that zo? Are jo saying I am an old, senile mare that imagine things? Was I imagining, jo suggest, what I saw jo do just now?” She moved closer to Alsesta, until she stood behind her chair, leaning so she could whisper right into her ear. “Did I not see jo with eyes closed, jor chest heaving and jor cheeks red? And those fingers working on jor blümchen?” Alsesta felt her wife place her hands on her neck. The small fingers began to work on her stiff neck muscles. “And did I not hear jo stuttering my name?” “Mmmm….” With great effort she shook of her wife’s hands and rose from her chair. “Back of from me, wench! If I wanted you to touch me with your dirty hands I would have asked!” “Jo zink zat I, PHOTO FINISH will ask?” “Well, if “Photo Finish” was behaving like a civilized pony, yes! But I guess that is impossible for you, you uncouth heathen! And…” Alsesta was silenced by a soft kiss. How her wife, who was much shorter than her could even reach that high without any effort, she would never understand. The kiss was soft and gentle, and sooner than she wanted, she relaxed, and put her arms around her wife in a tight embrace. The kiss lasted longer than the lunch rush at the Tasty Treat. Alsesta let her hands range free over her wife’s back, slightly tugging her tail and gently squeezing her buttocks, while Franzie’s idle fingers had not only unbuttoned her shirt, but also her pants, which she managed to slide down to the floor. They were rather loose fit so that was rather easy. Then she broke the kiss and gave Alsesta a lick straight over her chest. That got her to loose her grip and Franzie could take off her shirt with ease. And then she looked into her wife’s eye… And realized that she had fallen into her trap. Again. “Photo Finish NEVER asks. It is jo, engländer, dat will BEG!” Moments later, they were on the bed. Alsesta was completely naked, save for her shoes that she had put up a fight to keep on, lying face down on the bed, pinned down by her wife’s full body weight. Franzbrötchen was still wearing her standard purple pin-striped shirt, but her glasses lay safely on a table close by. The bed was rocking by the gentle, yet heavy movements of her hips. Because other than her shirt, Franzbrötchen was also wearing… “Die Kaiser”. “If every mare was like jo, liebchen, ze makers of Vaseline would have to close their business for good.” “...Just shut up and rut me, kraut.” “...Die Kaiser will make jo pay for those words, engländer.” Ah, yes. Die Kaiser… They had bought the toy some years back during a visit to the infamous Reeperbahn-district. They both had taken a liking to it, Alsesta with a sneer, and Franzie with a big smile, but still. It was also she that had named it. It was rather short, only nine inches, but the girth was pretty impressive. It was also painted a flushing red, like it was constantly on the verge to burst. “Exactly like ze Kaiser Lewitzer.” Alsesta had protested, "I'm not letting a stallion in there and you know it!" but Franzie had managed to convince her that it was not the name of the thing, but the one wielding it that mattered. Also, one test drive, and Alsesta had accepted it. And here they were, many a test drive later, two mares in the golden years, panting and moaning and ridden by pure lust. Alsesta would have been content with that… ...if only Franzie could have shut her trap. “So...Ah-Are jo ready to admit jor… ah... defeat, engelchen?” “Just… just can it and do me, you stupid mare... AH SWEET MICHELIN!” Franzbrötchen had placed her hand around her horn and began to stroke it with gently firm movements. “Dummkopf! Surrender and give in to ze power of die mighty Kaiser, jo filthy engländer!” Alsesta grinded her teeth as the pleasure was almost to hard to bare, and she gripped the sheets had her life depended on it. But still… “Nnngh… Why do you call him… ungh… Die Kaiser… Oh sweet luna yes… That is not… AH! ...grammatically… ungh… correct.” “I, Photo Finish, sneer at the boundary between linguistic genders! Now give in to the powers of die mutterland! “I will never… never… Oh yes! YES! YES! Franzie's hand was maniacally stroking her horn now, as “Die Kaiser” filled her completely. “Yes! Yes! Zat’s it! Scream for me! Scream for me, mu…” “YOU CALL ME A MULE A-ah… ah-and I WILL… oh Luna… KICK YOU into next week. Oh crap! Oh crap! OH HOLY CRAP FRANZIE YOU STUPID MARE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU MORON!” As she lay face down on the bed, still pinned down by her wife and with “Die Kaiser” buried deep inside her… to say that she was the victim of mixed feelings would be as saying that Celestia was a little bit taller than the average pony. She was still panting, and jer body was flying to the moon in the biggest endorphin-rush she had in weeks. And yet, the one thing one her mind was stupid mare, but the warm feelings were taking over. Especially when she felt soft hands around her. Franzbrötchen had gone up from the bed, taken off “Die Kaiser” and was now laying down, spooning her wife. This would have been just perfect and her article about “The Belgo Bar” could burn in Tartaros for all she cared… …and then, with her usual timing, her wife opened her mouth. “Engelchen… Do jo know why german is such a sexy language...Hmmm?” “Franzie…” she replied with a worn out voice, “German is not sexy. I only say schmetterling and rest my case.” But then she felt her wife’s teasing fingers around her belly, moving their way upwards... “Ah, but liebchen… Then jo don’t get it at all... Do jo know what an, auf, hinter, in, neben, über, unter, vor und zwischen means? They mean... on... “ “Mmm” “Behind…” “Ah!” “Next…” “What’s ne...AH!” “Inside… “OH LUNA!” “Over…” “Uhu...mmm” “Under…” “AH!” “Before…” “Say what now?” “And ...in between.” “Ah! Oh, for Celestia's sake, SHUT UP!” And with that, she threw herself out of her wife's embrace, and looked at her with eyes flowing with fire and anger. “I will make you shut up, if so by Luna it will kill me!” And then she placed her hands in a firm grip on Franzbrötchens thighs, separated them and dived in. The food critic's most valuable assets were tastebuds, mouth… and tongue. And she was the best food critic in Equestria. The room was almost completely silent, only the sharp short breaths from Fransbrötchen could be heard. Ah, beautiful silence. Sometimes you have to work harder for it, but it is worth it. Alsesta was so focused on her wife that she had her eyes closed, but she opened them with a flash as she felt two hands that began to stroke her horn furiously. That well-known warmth in her nethers came back in an instant. For a second she paused, but then she shrugged her shoulders. What the hay, at least she is being quiet. The room was still silent, safe for the sounds of idle hands moving and sharp breaths. The creaking from the bed as two bodies tensed up… And then… “AH! AH! AH MEIN CELESTIA! ... Gott in himmel…” “UNGH... Oh crap... Stupid Franzie…” But in spite of what she said, Alsesta crawled back on the bed, laid down next to her wife and gave her a light kiss. “Ich liebe dich, mein hertz.” “I love you too... My loaf…” Franzbrötchen smiled. Those few moments when her wife let down her guard to use the pun nickname were rare and she nuzzled closer to her, treasuring the moment. They lay in silence for somewhat half an hour until Franzbrötchen once again broke the silence. “Them heterosexuals doesn’t know wat dey are missing.” “Mhm…” Alsesta tried to sound discouraging, but it was hard when you were post-coitus sleepy. “Liebchen… since jo are the food critic...how do I taste?” Alsesta shrugged her shoulders. “Meh. Okay, I guess.” Franzbrötchen raised her eyebrows and said with a slightly annoyed voice, “Only okey? But, then, as jo always say, the great food critic Alsesta Gourmand never eats something that only tastes ‘okay’.” She paused. “And you seemed to enjoy yourself...” Alsesta smiled and gave her wife an affectionate kiss. That silly mare, she would never get it. “Ah, but there is a difference there, my love. YOU I can eat as much as I want… but I don’t have to swallow…” Author's Note Let's see if you can find the hidden reference. I regret nothing, and you will know me as the one that killed the subject. The moment - Naughty versionThat moment when everything turned. The Neigh Yorker was one of the largest and most prominent papers in Manehattan, and to a level even in Equestria as a whole. It's editorial office and HQ was placed in a skyscraper at the corner of 9th and 36th, which it shared with a marketing firm, a pizza place and a factory for prostheses. The HQ included the top fifteen floors, starting at seventeen with the reception and ended on thirtytwo with the gym and their very own Thin & Expensive Coffee shop. And on the 27th floor, there was a small office with the name "Alsesta Grandeur" on the door. It wasn’t much to the world, and yet, this was the publication’s food department. Alsesta Grandeur ran her four pages mostly by herself, only with the assistance of a photographer from time to time. In here, she created magic using only a pen and a typewriter. The room was, not surprisingly, sparsely furnished. A desk with the mentioned typewriter, a surprisingly comfortable chair, a waste paper bin and a coffee machine was the whole (if you didn’t count the food bowls on the floor for the large Doberman that usually filled up the room). Alsesta did most of her work at home or on location, but two days of the week she spent here, transcribing her articles or drinking pitch black coffee and looking out over her town. Especially on rainy days. Journalism was a tough business. But she was a tough mare. But that didn’t mean she spent all her time in her room, no. Two days of the week was enough. It was not like they owned her or anything. Today was a full working day, and the smattering from the typewriter filled the room. She had been slacking of some lately due to the antics of a mare who apparently had decided that she wanted to be a part of her life. Four days ago they woke up together in the same bed, and because of that, Alsesta was now spending her third day in a row at her office. She wasn’t avoiding her or anything, it was just… Work. yes. And she had three reviews and two articles to do. She could of course do them next week… But Alsesta Grandeur was not tardy! She had one reason, and one reason only to stay at Fransbrötchens place. That hard mattress of hers had done wonders to her back. Yes. The other things that happened were just a coincidence. Perhaps she should go over to see her on Friday. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. Not to get her hopes up or that she was having some urges, just for the chance to sleep better. Yes. She was halfway through the second review when there was a knock on the door and her editor-in-chief entered the room without waiting for permission. Despite mostly handling herself, Alsesta was technically a part of the staff for lifestyle and housekeeping, and her boss was a mare named Stew What, who didn't know smack about food. And therefore, Alsesta despised her, naturally. "Zesty! Great! Just the mare I was looking for!" "Don't. call. me. Zesty. And, yes, here I am. Now that you found me, please leave." "Zesty, Zesty, Zesty! My mare Zesty! You’re full of surprises! It’s just like you, to not say a word and surprise us just like that! I tell you, the directors are over the top about this! I tell you, there will be a fat bonus waiting for you this month. Four numbers." Alsesta stared at her. "Bonus? For what? ...Did my warning against visiting "the Tasty Treat" save that many lives from dead tastebuds?" Stew laughed her boasting stupid laugh. "Ha! You know, Zesty, you can be really funny when you put your mind to it. Come on, don’t be modest! You know!” “I can’t say I do, no.” “Alright, alright, let’s ‘pretend’, shall we. Typically Zesty. Well, I’ll say it straight, you saved the day! Or rather, the weekend. Thanks to you, our weekend special will sell like salt stones in June! " Alsesta looked sceptical. "What have I done?" Stew slapped her on her shoulder, rather hard. "Come on now, Zesty! She told us that all about how you persuaded her to do it! To be honest, I almost fell out of my chair when she said your name. How do YOU know HER?" Alsesta stared at her boss with empty eyes. She had absolutely no idea whatsoever what she was talking about. And who was She...? She. Of course. Then everything fell into place. There was only two mares she knew of with enough reputation to be referred to simply as "she”. One was a princess... And the other was the reason she had spent three days at the office instead of her apartment. "Holy Saint Megan… Please don’t tell me it is Fra...Photo Finish?" "Silly! Of course it is! Do you have any idea how big this is? Photo Finish giving US an exclusive set of pictures? This is a sensation! Clothes by Miss Pommel and Rarity Belle, and modelled by our own star reporters! She will call it 'front page cover extraordinaire'. This is better than our Hearts and Hooves special Q&A with Princess Cadence! Well, gotta run! Can't let her wait! Or ‘She goes!’ She really is something else. Whatever your connection is, be sure to use it again and you might even get a secretary!" And she was gone. Like she would need a secretary. So, Fransbrötchen was in the building now? ...If she worked hard, she would get one article done and then she could take a cart and be gone in half an hour. But somewhere inside her was this nagging wish to look at her. A bit at least. And so, Alsesta found herself in the elevator on its way to the 30th floor where the newsroom was. It was the place in the building with the largest windows and the whole Manehattan skyline behind it. No guess there on where the shoot would take place. She was busy, but five minutes she could afford, just looking. And sure enough, there she was, surrounded by her assistants and with her camera around her neck. Alsesta hid behind a hibiscus and looked at her. Brash and loud as she always was in private, there was a difference between Fransbrötchen and Photo Finish. Fransie was just loud, Photo barked. "More make up! Too much! Not enough! Too much! Enough! And pose! And pose! Ah yes, I, Photo Finish will create… ze magicks here in zis very room! NEIN! Lower ze arm! No, ze other arm! No ze other arm! Yes! Yes! Yes! NEIN! Zis is not some kind of fashion show! Hold zat position! Zis is ze life here! Ze action! Ze drama! Ze intrigues! Ze passion! YES! Like zat! NEIN! BEWEGEN SIE NICHT! JA! JA! JA! ENOUGH! Where is my coffee? More milk! ENOUGH! NEXT!" Alsesta turned around and left. She had seen enough. "Good thing she keeps that side away from home," she muttered to herself. There was nothing likable in that barking and demanding attitude. Nothing at all. Nothing that made her cheeks blush. No. Nope. And that dress she wore… that provoking combination of black, white and pink, and that really slim skirt, with only a small hole for her tail... combined with some really edgy stockings… Coffee. She needed coffee. Now. Back into the safe and quietness of her office she poured another cup of coffee and sat down. She could still escape. There was the possibility that she didn’t know where she worked… Oh, stop being stupid! Of course she know where I work! Why else would she be here. And arrange a photo session! Just to show off… Stupid mare. Automatically her fingers began to move over the typewriter, only waiting for the inevitable. And after 45 minutes, it came. There was another knock on the door, and again she didn’t wait for permission to enter. Alsesta frowned. "What is it now, Stew..." But of course it wasn't Stew. "Hallo liebchen... Such a nice office you have!" Alsesta stared at the flamboyant image in the doorway. She wore exactly the same clothes, only the sunglasses were off. She swallowed and managed to answer pretty clear. "Fransie? What are you doing here?" "Ah, why do jo ask? I saw you before when you tried to be discreet..." She put a hand on Alsesta’s neck and kissed her forehead. “You know why…” Alsesta blushed. "Yes, well... I meant here, now?" "It has been some days, liebchen. I missed you. I wanted to see you.” “You could have called.” “You haven’t given me your number. But I knew where you worked so… here I went.” “Yes, with all your entourage. You could have just come here, you know?” Fransbrötchen placed her hand on her chest in an indignant way. “And let the whole world know that PHOTO FINISH was here to see the great Alsesta Grandeur? The scandal! And you wouldn’t like it…” “Beg your pardon?” “SO! I decided to come here, big style. This way no pony would guess that I’m here to see you…” “You said that I persuaded you to come here!” “And you did! By not responding to me, you made me come to you! What else could I do?” Alesta raised a finger, but found herself without words that descirbed what she felt, and let the hand fall down. “No, I wanted to make an impression! And I wanted... you." Quick as a weasel she had one hand inside of Alsesta’s shirt and began to unbutton it. She swung her leg over Alsesta and straddled her before she had the chance to react but now she caught Fransie’s hand. "What are you... stop!" "Liebchen. ..You didn’t mind when I touched you last Saturday...or the week before… and that time on the couch…” Alsesta’s mind had a fight with a completely different part of her body regarding the response. In the end it was a draw and her answer was "Well... no, but... this is my office! You can’t..." "So? Nopony tells Photo finish what to do and not… " "Please, Fransie… I'm not... wearing a bra..." It was true. She had skipped that part of her outfit this morning, knowing she would be indoors the whole day. And she hoped there was some normal decency in Fransbrötchen. Fransbrötchen smiled. There was evil behind that smile, Alsesta was sure about it. "Well, that's good." She leaned forward and whispered, "Because I am not wearing any panties..." She took Alsesta’s free hand and led it in under her dress and between her legs. It was warm and moist. "Fransie... you..." She leaned even closer. "I want you, engelchen. I need you. Please, love me. Love me now." Alsesta stammered. "But... but... this is an office! I... I have nothing to…” "Wrong, mein liebchen. You are here. And your fingers are exactly where they should be. Just don't move them. I will do ze rest..." And then she began to slowly grind her pelvis against Alsesta’s thighs and fingers. She placed her hands behind her, on Alsesta’s knees, for support. And then she pushed. Aslesta found her fingers sliding inside and out of her lover without herself having to move an inch. Fransie had her mouth half-open, and she breathed heavily. “Mmmm...yes...yes...Zis is good, Engelchen. You are so hard… so stiff…” “They’re fingers, Fransie… They usually are.” “Ah, yes, mein engelchen...Mmmm… and zat’s why a stallion...Ah...has nothing on….mmmm...you…” Alsesta could only look as Fransie began to rock her body faster and harder against her fingers, as if she wanted her whole hand inside her. To her slight irritation, she found herself getting more and more excited. “Do you like...to watch me...engelchen? Do you like… to see your mare...zis aroused?” “Fransie...I… “LIAR! Whatever you were going to tell me was a lie! You are getting excited! Admit it! ADMIT IT! AH AH YES! DEEPER!” She raised her left hand to her chest, and pulled down her dress. She had no bra either, Alsesta could see. She began to caress her breast rather violently. And then she grabbed Alesta by the neck and pulled her closer. “Zuck it.” “What?” “Zuck on my teat, engelchen… I want you to zuck really good and hard… Kiss it, bite it...do whatever you want...but please do it now!” For a single moment Alsesta was shaken by an inner crisis. She ought to throw this intruder out. Show her how little she meant to her and how extremely rude it was to just rush inside and take advantage of her. What she did was to place her arm around Fransie and slightly tug her tail. And place small, quick kisses on her teats. And then she tugged her tail a bit harder. “AH! JO NAUGHTY, FILTHY MARE! YOU WILL…” But then, Fransbrötchen found herself silenced with a kiss. “Do you want my colleagues to hear? Do you want your staff to know?” Fransbrötchen shook her head. “Good. Then you be a good filly and keep. It. down. Photo Finish was annoyed at the remark. As if this mare could give her orders. But Fransbrötchen had to admit that she had a point. Plus it was exciting… the thrill of maybe getting caught, trying to stay quiet. It turned her on even more. The following moments were much quieter, but not less intense. Fransbrötchen’s movements with her hips grew so strong that the chair began to rock. She leaned her head forward and kissed Alesesta. And then she whispered: “Engelchen… touch yourself.” “Whu?” “Touch yourself...I want you to...mmm… cum at ze same time as...me...please…” Alsesta did not hesitate and her hand was under her waistband before she could blink. Fransbrötchen noticed with a coy smile that Alsesta had been more aroused than she had wanted to admit, because the moments her fingers touched her flower, she closed her eyes and began to pant as hard as Fransbrötchen. But she stayed quiet. For some more minutes, there was only the creaking of the chair and the heavy breaths of two older mares banging the shit out of each other. And then… “Fransie… I… I… Oh no…” “I’m close...I’m so close… Come for me, Engelchen...Come for me…” “No way… We said...the same time...and I… Am… a mare of my… WORD! OH crap! Oh crap crap craaaaaap!! “AH! AH! AH MEIN Gott mein Celestia! Aaaaa….” And then, all was silence again. ... Fransbrötchen left Alsesta 15 minutes later. She sat completely still in her chair, just staring, with one hand down her pants. She kept that exact position even three hours later when the cleaner passed. First she shouted at him. Then she went to the bathroom to wash her hands. Then she got herself another cup of coffee. With lots of milk and sugar this time. Screw decorum! She made her decision, she was going to give it. Might as well do it completely. She walked over to the next office, where she lifted the receiver and rang a certain number. “Hello, Fransbrötchen… It’s me… My number is 487634 and… there is this new Neighapolitan place down at 23rd… I was going to test it tonight and… the table is for two… it would be a waste to not… and the Paper is paying… what? No, it would just be convenient… But... But… Yes, but...“ She looked at the wall in silence, and then, almost whispering she said: “Fransbrötchen… would you like to dine with me tonight?” UncomfortableAlsesta tossed and turned in her bed. She had been like this for at least forty minutes now. For some reason, her body decided it was time to wake up at 2.38 a.m, and also that falling asleep again was a no-no. This in incomprehensibly uncomfortable. Why is there a wrinkle in the sheets, just right there where I have my knee? And who made this pillow so hot! Arrrh! It felt like one of her dishes, where it had to be exactly right or it would never swing. But it was one thing to work with edible things on a plate and her own body. If she could get one leg to the left… Yes, there. Then the arm began to fuss. Down? Yes. There. Then find a good position of the head… slightly backwards… A little further… AH! The hottest place on the pillow! I have to fluff it! She sat up, and arranged her pillow. Then she lay down again, but now her body had changed its mind and required a new position. Alsesta blinked, and sighed. “Bugger,” she whispered. In the dark room she could hear the calm snoring from the other beings in the room. Anton on the floor, somewhere on her right, and Foto right behind her. Tausendschöns purring could be traced from somewhere in the apartment as well. At least, no one else is awake. Alright, I just need to relax myself. Imagination is the creative chefs best friend right after salt and butter. And intelligent company is preferred at this hour, so it’s perfect I’m the only one awake. I can always think about... Her mind went blank, and she stared at the roof. Then she frowned. Ah come on! I should at least be able to rely on myself. No? Ok… No fudge til next month for you, Alsesta. She turned over to her other side, but that didn’t help. Her legs were aching and the pillow was still warm. She looked at the contours of her sleeping wife. Fransie always have a spare pillow. Where is it now... Right under her arm. Damn. I will probably just wake her up if I try. So another urge came up. One that was not silenced by threats or positive thinking. “The Neighagara falls” as daddy had called it. The Neighara falls were calling her right now. Grudgingly she left the bed for the toilet. Even if she hit a few things on her way, she refused to turn on the light. Turning on the light meant accepting she was awake, and she was not going to have that. Her business finished quick and efficient, she went to the kitchen. A glass of milk helped sometimes. She poured a small glass of regular, swiped it in one go, and returned to bed. She closed her eyes, trying to relax by force. Mind over body. To bad the body decided that the nighttime was the body’s time to be in charge then. She sighed and turned over to her side. The night was long, and longer would it be... “Are jo...Yawn... awake, engelchen?” Shit. She sighed again. Ah well… Nothing to do but to accept the inevitable, I guess. “Yes, Fransie. I am awake.” “Ach! Mein poor engelchen… Jo have trouble sleeping? Come over here.” Alsesta turned around to face her wife, and Fransie put her arms around her. “Oh Faust in himmel, jo are tense! Zis night is no good night for jo, love. Have jo not tried to relax?” Alsesta frowned. Fransie could be so naïve at times. “YES, Fransie. I have. I have been trying to find a doable position for some time now, I’ve had a glass of milk, I’ve been to the bathroom and before you say it, no I have not and I outright REFUSE to take a walk or count sheep! I want to sleep. Now.” “Ach. Vell… perhaps I can help jo…” Alsesta rolled her eyes. “What are you going to do? Sleep for me?” “No. Have jo never tried masturbation to calm down?” “WHAT?” She almost sat up in bed, but Fransie held her back. “Jo heard me, and jo should be thankful Minolta is with Bonchen zis weekend. Jor waking ze whole house. So… have jo tried it?” “Um…well… that is…” Even in the darkness, Alsesta didn't want to look Fransie in the eye. “It’s a yes, then.” “Um… yes, but Fransie…” Here she was, a grown mare, blushing. “Ach! Pishposh! Haven’t we done enough things jor father would never approve of in zis room?” “Well, yes, but…” “Ach, say no more! Turn around and let jor Fransie lead jo into ze land of dreams!” Alsesta wasn’t convinced, but she obeyed, and soon she had her back against Fransie. Normally she never gave her wife an inch, but she blamed her sleepless mind for her relative easiness. The idea that she might enjoy the experience was completely shoved aside. Fransie moved closer to her, and soon her hands found their way in under her pajama. One sneaked its way to her chest, and began to gently caressing her breast. Fransie’s fingers were thin and actually rather bony, and yet her touch drove Alsesta mad. Especially when she let her thumb dance over her nipple. Alsesta bit her lip to make sure not a sound above her breathing come out. She was not going to let Fransie believed she enjoyed this invasion of her privacy! The fact that they were married and shared a bed for some years didn’t change a. fucking. thingohholystraswirl! It was in that moment she felt the other much more bold hand, sneaking its way in between her legs and began to stroke her inner thigh, even go as far up as slightly touching her slit. Alesta began to breathe harder and separated her legs slightly, to give more room to Fransies hand. She felt really, really annoyed by her action. Unfortunately for her, that feeling was completely drowned in the sensation of Fransie spreading her finger full, and stroking her lower lips, slowly and gently. No fingers were directly touching the more delicate parts and yet this felt really bloody good. “Mmmm….” Fransie said nothing, but Alsesta could bet she was smirking. She had a reply on her tongue, but in that moment the hand reached exactly THAT spot and she gasped. She felt herself getting warmer, and yet Fransie kept her hand on the outside, her slow strokes moving over the left thigh, then the right… Then back to the left, and then for brief moment landed on her lower lips… Only to teasingly remove it again. “Oooooh…” And when Alsesta thought she could just let thing go and ride it out… Fransie began to speak. “Jo know what… Jo are my favourite zing to play wit, engelchen…” “Oh, just staaaaahp…” Alsesta HATED when Fransie talked during love-making. Because she always used that special, sultry voice she saved for her ,and only her. Because she always talked in teasing euphemisms and half-lid hints that always sounded so extremely dirty. Because it drove her so insanely horny and she hated it so much and she was not giving in at all and she was trying so hard to control herself and stupid stupid stupid Alsesta she was driving her even more nuts with her self-inflicted orgams denial and that Tartaros-born Fransie KNEW that and that was why she always did it that bloody cunt oh Faust shut up and let me cum already please I can’t stand it anymore I can’t… Her thoughts were halted by a finger finding it’s way inside and once again hitting THAT spot and she couldn’t stop her mouth this time. “AH! AAummph...” “Wat was zat, engelchen? I thought jo were enjoying jorself…?” “Mmmmmm… Stupid kraut...” Fransie smiled. “Thought zo.” Alsesta bit her lip, Fransie was the most impatient mare in the world at every time, except in these moments. She could tease forever, and more than once she had grown tired and just grabbed Fransies hand and finished herself. Fransie crept a bit closer and now her mouth was just inches from Alsestas ear. She whispered, “Jo like zis, don’t jo, engelchen?” Alsesta nodded. “But let us tip jo over ze edge in ze best way… What is jor fantasy, engel?” Alsesta replied, her mind dimmed by the intense feelings.“Wha…what?” “Jor fantazies, engelchen. Ze mares do jo zink of when Jo are getting off?” “Uhn…You, Fransie…” But Fransie was not satisfied with that answer. “Tsk, tsk tsk… Boring. No, I KNOW jo, engel… It is perfectly natural to look at others, to have…urges… Jo have REAL fantazies, I’m sure!” “AAAH!” “And even with only one eye… I can see jor mind, Engelchen. Oh yes… I KNOW ZINGS!” Alsesta didn’t like where this were heading, but her body had decided this was bizarro night, and acted completely opposite to what she should feel and she became even more excited by Fransies words. “I have seen jor eyes following my Bonchen when she walks over ze room… Ach, dem hips… Dem wide, pudgy, child-bearing hips… That’s jor trigger, isn’t it?” “AH!” “But jo have eyed others to… How about… hmm… Ah, yes! Mrs Rarity! Now THERE’s a mare! Ah, such grace, such elegance… She walks like an angel… But it is perhaps her horn that get’s jor engine going? Zat long, nice horn… Is zat what jo want?” “F-f-fuck you…” “Or is it perhaps ze idea of tight clothing? Zat PT of mine… ze Minotaur, Platinum Grace?” “Don’t you d-dare…” “Those yoga-pants she’s sporting? It’s like she is POURED into zem!” “Just… Just let me cum… Please, Fransie…” But Fransbrötchen did not falter, she leaned even closer to Alsestas ear and more or less hissed, “But why satisfy with that when jo have dem all three at once? Pixel Pizazz… engelchen.” “AAH!” “Oh yez...I have seen jo look at her, when she is assisting me at a shoot. Is zat jor preferred mare, Engelchen?” Alsesta tried her hardest NOT to think about Pixel, all in vain. How Fransie knew she had no idea, but she had indeed been eying the young unicorn once or twice. Just to pass time, of course. Not once having any indecent thoughts about her. She was married, for Faust’s sake! “Ah, it is! Zat young, confident smile...” “Mmmmmm...” “And her horn? Rather short, but also so thick at ze base…” “Aaah…J-jerk” “And of course those hips! Her wide, perfect, promising hips!” “Fransie…I...I” “Ah, how jo would love to feel those strong thighs around jo, or separate them, or tear down her undies with jor teeth… I have her number jo know… I can make her come her, ask her to wear those tight jeans she had last time we did that gig in Ponyville and ask her to pick up pins from ze floor. One by one, giving jo view after view after…” “FRANSIE! SHUT YOUR FUCKING… OH CRAP! CRAP! OH CRAAAAaaaaaahpp… Oh Luna…” Alsesta could hardly breathe and her forehead was covered in sweat. If the pillow wasn’t warm before… And of course, Fransie couldn’t shut up. “Did jo enjoy it, Engelchen?” Alsesta could only nod. “But jo know what’s better than an orgasm, Engelchen?” She closed her eyes. She was almost worn out. “No…” “Two orgasms.” Alsesta suddenly realised that Fransie hadn’t removed her hand and once again she began to stroke her. And suddenly, a new sensation arose. Fransie had placed nothing but two fingertips right on top of her flower and began to rapidly move them. Only to the left, strangely enough. All the warm feelings she thought had disappeared with her last orgasm suddenly returned full throttle, concentrated to one spot, and one spot alone. The effect was instant, it was as if her nethers were exploding and she cried right out, “FRANSIE! CRAP!” “Oh…I have find myself a keeper then… Are jo perhaps ready to cum for me once more already, engelchen?” “FRANSIE, CELESTIA'S TEATS I HATE YOU! I HATE YOOOOOOOO AAAAAHHHH!” Alsestas body was shaking from the strongest orgasm she’d had in years. Now her whole pajama was covered in sweat and if she had to leave this bed and this mare in one hundred years it would still be to early. But that didn’t stop her from mobilizing her last powers and turn around to glare at her wife. “Was ALL OF THIS really necessary?” Perhaps not as powerful as she would have preferred, but she had to put her foot down! Yes! “Definitely! Jo came, did jo not?” “Yes… Yes and thank you very much,” No reason to deny facts but…” But I’m not relaxed! I’m wide awake, so still, thank you for nothing!” Fransie did her best Golden Hayn impression and bit her thumb in a mock-childish way. “Oooh… Sorry engelchen, my bad. It is me that gets tired from sex… “ Alsesta clould do nothing but look at her wife, dead-pan. “You.” “Yes… And i feel very much pumped up and my brain is buzzing. I need to relax…right now… Oh, I need to relax SO BAD! if only somepony could come to my aid…” She lay herself on the side, presenting her whole body to Alsesta with a smirk. The moon shone into the room from the smallest window (We need to get a curtain for that one) and it made Fransie shimmer in the silver light. She sighed. There was no way she could tell Fransie how it felt to get some of your secrets thrown right in your face while being turned on up to eleven without getting really rude, and at the moment she were out of passable insults. And it was not like she wanted her to not do it again, it was just… surprising. She looked at her wife. Fransie had placed a finger on her navel and began to trace her way down in between her legs. Oh, well, I’m wide awake anyway… “I’ll get die Kaiser.” Author's Note I regret nothing. And coffee is good.
Mind over body/Body over mind.Alsesta Gourmand was sitting next to her typewriter in her Manehattan home, searching her mind for the best way to explain to the world why “The Belgo Bar” was a rotten mess not worthy of a visit even from the health department. It was easy to just write a bad review, but a simple “bad review” was not enough for Alsesta Gourmand. She always signed her reviews with her full name, wishing that if she did that long enough, it would forever erase the horrible nickname some wisecracker had given her when she was barely a coffe-bringer back in the day. It was NOT a name to be used in public and if anyone tried to get her attention using that name, she would just turn her back on that pony and leave. Alsesta Gourmand was a mare that believed in “the control”. True art, she said, and to a further extent, true life came from control. To not act on emotion, to not let the weakness of the impure flesh determine your destiny, that was her credo. Her life, and her work, had been dedicated the search for perfection. She had a reputation for being perhaps the hardest food critic in the whole country. And she had many times been bashed for it, mostly by chefs who didn't live up to her standards, but sometimes even by her fellow critics. Especially that incompetent youngster down at the Manehattan Herald. What was his name again… Naked Lunch? Over and over again he had proposed the idea that the best sign of good food was a happy stomach. Zesty had almost caused a riot when she heard the quote the first time. The stomach! THE STOMACH! Why in the name of Saint Megan would anypony let such a uncultivated body part as the stomach judge whether a meal was subpar or sufficient? The stomach, who didn't care the least of taste or smell or design! Who only cared about being stuffed! And it never even bothered to have standards! It could process anything! Oat Burgers! Muffins! Carrots! Easy-Cook grass! It couldn’t even distinguish between the rich taste of the scandineighvian Västerbotten cheese and the empty fragrance from a cheap Gouda. Anything it was given, it processed. An uncultivated pig, the stomach was. No, there were only three parts of the body that mattered when a dish was to be judged. Pro primo: The eyes. Because color and texture was equally important when balancing a dish as seasoning. Pro secundo: The nose, because the smell was supposed to be the ouverture to the symphony and harmonize with it. Not something that promised a fugue and instead turned into a mindless dance beat! And of course, the taste buds, with mouth and tongue in tow. The guardians of good taste. The knights in shining armour, protecting the body from devouring anything suboptimal. Yes, control was the key. Mind over body. To bad then that she failed miserably at it. Not that she didn't try, of course. She had a bit of a sweet tooth, and adored good old-fashioned Equestrian toffee. Hence she hadn’t bought any in more than ten years. She prefered her coffee with lots of sugar and cream, and hence she drank it as black and bitter as possible. She loved to dance, and therefore she hadn't even listened to music for years. Mind over body. But when your stepdaughter-in-law had invested in a 1000-bits coffee machine and constantly messed up her wish for BLACK coffee with a double latte made with bittersweet almond milk and a generous touch of cinnamon… Well, it was rude not to drink it, wasn't it? And when the same stepdaughter-in-law and wife, the stepdaughter, had managed to produce such an adorable little bundle of joy as step grandkid Toots, and said grandkid wanted to dance with her grandma, who was she to say no? Especially when she called her “Chef”. Oh come on, you don’t say no to that child! And finally, when now stepdaughter BonBon happened to be a prominent confectionist who made the most refined and delicious Equestrian toffee, using a mix of pecan nuts and walnuts with just a pinch of sea salt on top of it and just happened to leave a box every time she visited “Mutter Lieb”... Well, they had to be eaten, didn’t they? And it was not as if Franzbrötchen needed more fat on those hips of hers. Those hips… Alsesta found her mind wander of from searching synonyms for “appalling”. Her mind was on her wife. Franzbrötchen, or as most of the world knew her, Photo Finish. The mare that, to Alsesta’s annoyance, was her whole life. Her beautiful cyan fur. That special smile she saved exclusively for “mein engelchen” as she usually called her. And mmmm… That raunchy german accent, always teasing, always jesting. Always making her smile. And she despised it. Stupid mare. Stupid, stupid mare. Stupid, stupid, damn-she’s-sexy-for-being-over-50-have-you-seen-those-legs mare. Her body had now broken free from the chains the mind put on it, and Alsesta found her hand, much to her surprise, had made their way a good part down her pants and in between her thighs. She drew back her hand as had it been stung by a wasp ...Only for it to slowly sneak back and go straight for the honey-pot without regards. Ah, well… She was alone anyway. And after all, you should always have sex with someone you love. Ah yes… Ah yes… this was good. This was nice. This was... "F-franzie..." “Are jo sitting here touching jor naughty parts all alone, mein engelchen?” Immediately she withdrew her hand from its previous position and regained her stiff composure. Where the hay did she come from? How in the world could Franzbrötchen, the loudest mare in Equestria, always sneak up on her? She managed to switch her face from flustered to annoyed. She hoped. “No, Franzbrötchen, I am not. I am working.” “Bah!” Franzbrötchen had grabbed her hand, lifted it to her nose, and had taken a deep sniff. “Zis is not ze smell of work! Zis is the smell of debauchery! Jah!” Alsesta could barely watch as her wife slowly and thoroughly kissed her fingers, one by one, tasting them as were they some exclusive dish at a five star restaurant. “Ah! Aaah… Zis… is ze taste of mare… Ja, there can be no mistake! Were jo zinking about me, perhaps, mein engelchen?” She pulled back her hand. “I did nothing of the kind, and stop with your infamous insinuation! You are childish.” “Is that zo? Are jo saying I am an old, senile mare that imagine things? Was I imagining, jo suggest, what I saw jo do just now?” She moved closer to Alsesta, until she stood behind her chair, leaning so she could whisper right into her ear. “Did I not see jo with eyes closed, jor chest heaving and jor cheeks red? And those fingers working on jor blümchen?” Alsesta felt her wife place her hands on her neck. The small fingers began to work on her stiff neck muscles. “And did I not hear jo stuttering my name?” “Mmmm….” With great effort she shook of her wife’s hands and rose from her chair. “Back of from me, wench! If I wanted you to touch me with your dirty hands I would have asked!” “Jo zink zat I, PHOTO FINISH will ask?” “Well, if “Photo Finish” was behaving like a civilized pony, yes! But I guess that is impossible for you, you uncouth heathen! And…” Alsesta was silenced by a soft kiss. How her wife, who was much shorter than her could even reach that high without any effort, she would never understand. The kiss was soft and gentle, and sooner than she wanted, she relaxed, and put her arms around her wife in a tight embrace. The kiss lasted longer than the lunch rush at the Tasty Treat. Alsesta let her hands range free over her wife’s back, slightly tugging her tail and gently squeezing her buttocks, while Franzie’s idle fingers had not only unbuttoned her shirt, but also her pants, which she managed to slide down to the floor. They were rather loose fit so that was rather easy. Then she broke the kiss and gave Alsesta a lick straight over her chest. That got her to loose her grip and Franzie could take off her shirt with ease. And then she looked into her wife’s eye… And realized that she had fallen into her trap. Again. “Photo Finish NEVER asks. It is jo, engländer, dat will BEG!” Moments later, they were on the bed. Alsesta was completely naked, save for her shoes that she had put up a fight to keep on, lying face down on the bed, pinned down by her wife’s full body weight. Franzbrötchen was still wearing her standard purple pin-striped shirt, but her glasses lay safely on a table close by. The bed was rocking by the gentle, yet heavy movements of her hips. Because other than her shirt, Franzbrötchen was also wearing… “Die Kaiser”. “If every mare was like jo, liebchen, ze makers of Vaseline would have to close their business for good.” “...Just shut up and rut me, kraut.” “...Die Kaiser will make jo pay for those words, engländer.” Ah, yes. Die Kaiser… They had bought the toy some years back during a visit to the infamous Reeperbahn-district. They both had taken a liking to it, Alsesta with a sneer, and Franzie with a big smile, but still. It was also she that had named it. It was rather short, only nine inches, but the girth was pretty impressive. It was also painted a flushing red, like it was constantly on the verge to burst. “Exactly like ze Kaiser Lewitzer.” Alsesta had protested, "I'm not letting a stallion in there and you know it!" but Franzie had managed to convince her that it was not the name of the thing, but the one wielding it that mattered. Also, one test drive, and Alsesta had accepted it. And here they were, many a test drive later, two mares in the golden years, panting and moaning and ridden by pure lust. Alsesta would have been content with that… ...if only Franzie could have shut her trap. “So...Ah-Are jo ready to admit jor… ah... defeat, engelchen?” “Just… just can it and do me, you stupid mare... AH SWEET MICHELIN!” Franzbrötchen had placed her hand around her horn and began to stroke it with gently firm movements. “Dummkopf! Surrender and give in to ze power of die mighty Kaiser, jo filthy engländer!” Alsesta grinded her teeth as the pleasure was almost to hard to bare, and she gripped the sheets had her life depended on it. But still… “Nnngh… Why do you call him… ungh… Die Kaiser… Oh sweet luna yes… That is not… AH! ...grammatically… ungh… correct.” “I, Photo Finish, sneer at the boundary between linguistic genders! Now give in to the powers of die mutterland! “I will never… never… Oh yes! YES! YES! Franzie's hand was maniacally stroking her horn now, as “Die Kaiser” filled her completely. “Yes! Yes! Zat’s it! Scream for me! Scream for me, mu…” “YOU CALL ME A MULE A-ah… ah-and I WILL… oh Luna… KICK YOU into next week. Oh crap! Oh crap! OH HOLY CRAP FRANZIE YOU STUPID MARE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU MORON!” As she lay face down on the bed, still pinned down by her wife and with “Die Kaiser” buried deep inside her… to say that she was the victim of mixed feelings would be as saying that Celestia was a little bit taller than the average pony. She was still panting, and jer body was flying to the moon in the biggest endorphin-rush she had in weeks. And yet, the one thing one her mind was stupid mare, but the warm feelings were taking over. Especially when she felt soft hands around her. Franzbrötchen had gone up from the bed, taken off “Die Kaiser” and was now laying down, spooning her wife. This would have been just perfect and her article about “The Belgo Bar” could burn in Tartaros for all she cared… …and then, with her usual timing, her wife opened her mouth. “Engelchen… Do jo know why german is such a sexy language...Hmmm?” “Franzie…” she replied with a worn out voice, “German is not sexy. I only say schmetterling and rest my case.” But then she felt her wife’s teasing fingers around her belly, moving their way upwards... “Ah, but liebchen… Then jo don’t get it at all... Do jo know what an, auf, hinter, in, neben, über, unter, vor und zwischen means? They mean... on... “ “Mmm” “Behind…” “Ah!” “Next…” “What’s ne...AH!” “Inside… “OH LUNA!” “Over…” “Uhu...mmm” “Under…” “AH!” “Before…” “Say what now?” “And ...in between.” “Ah! Oh, for Celestia's sake, SHUT UP!” And with that, she threw herself out of her wife's embrace, and looked at her with eyes flowing with fire and anger. “I will make you shut up, if so by Luna it will kill me!” And then she placed her hands in a firm grip on Franzbrötchens thighs, separated them and dived in. The food critic's most valuable assets were tastebuds, mouth… and tongue. And she was the best food critic in Equestria. The room was almost completely silent, only the sharp short breaths from Fransbrötchen could be heard. Ah, beautiful silence. Sometimes you have to work harder for it, but it is worth it. Alsesta was so focused on her wife that she had her eyes closed, but she opened them with a flash as she felt two hands that began to stroke her horn furiously. That well-known warmth in her nethers came back in an instant. For a second she paused, but then she shrugged her shoulders. What the hay, at least she is being quiet. The room was still silent, safe for the sounds of idle hands moving and sharp breaths. The creaking from the bed as two bodies tensed up… And then… “AH! AH! AH MEIN CELESTIA! ... Gott in himmel…” “UNGH... Oh crap... Stupid Franzie…” But in spite of what she said, Alsesta crawled back on the bed, laid down next to her wife and gave her a light kiss. “Ich liebe dich, mein hertz.” “I love you too... My loaf…” Franzbrötchen smiled. Those few moments when her wife let down her guard to use the pun nickname were rare and she nuzzled closer to her, treasuring the moment. They lay in silence for somewhat half an hour until Franzbrötchen once again broke the silence. “Them heterosexuals doesn’t know wat dey are missing.” “Mhm…” Alsesta tried to sound discouraging, but it was hard when you were post-coitus sleepy. “Liebchen… since jo are the food critic...how do I taste?” Alsesta shrugged her shoulders. “Meh. Okay, I guess.” Franzbrötchen raised her eyebrows and said with a slightly annoyed voice, “Only okey? But, then, as jo always say, the great food critic Alsesta Gourmand never eats something that only tastes ‘okay’.” She paused. “And you seemed to enjoy yourself...” Alsesta smiled and gave her wife an affectionate kiss. That silly mare, she would never get it. “Ah, but there is a difference there, my love. YOU I can eat as much as I want… but I don’t have to swallow…” Author's Note Let's see if you can find the hidden reference. I regret nothing, and you will know me as the one that killed the subject.
The moment - Naughty versionThat moment when everything turned. The Neigh Yorker was one of the largest and most prominent papers in Manehattan, and to a level even in Equestria as a whole. It's editorial office and HQ was placed in a skyscraper at the corner of 9th and 36th, which it shared with a marketing firm, a pizza place and a factory for prostheses. The HQ included the top fifteen floors, starting at seventeen with the reception and ended on thirtytwo with the gym and their very own Thin & Expensive Coffee shop. And on the 27th floor, there was a small office with the name "Alsesta Grandeur" on the door. It wasn’t much to the world, and yet, this was the publication’s food department. Alsesta Grandeur ran her four pages mostly by herself, only with the assistance of a photographer from time to time. In here, she created magic using only a pen and a typewriter. The room was, not surprisingly, sparsely furnished. A desk with the mentioned typewriter, a surprisingly comfortable chair, a waste paper bin and a coffee machine was the whole (if you didn’t count the food bowls on the floor for the large Doberman that usually filled up the room). Alsesta did most of her work at home or on location, but two days of the week she spent here, transcribing her articles or drinking pitch black coffee and looking out over her town. Especially on rainy days. Journalism was a tough business. But she was a tough mare. But that didn’t mean she spent all her time in her room, no. Two days of the week was enough. It was not like they owned her or anything. Today was a full working day, and the smattering from the typewriter filled the room. She had been slacking of some lately due to the antics of a mare who apparently had decided that she wanted to be a part of her life. Four days ago they woke up together in the same bed, and because of that, Alsesta was now spending her third day in a row at her office. She wasn’t avoiding her or anything, it was just… Work. yes. And she had three reviews and two articles to do. She could of course do them next week… But Alsesta Grandeur was not tardy! She had one reason, and one reason only to stay at Fransbrötchens place. That hard mattress of hers had done wonders to her back. Yes. The other things that happened were just a coincidence. Perhaps she should go over to see her on Friday. Or Saturday. Or Sunday. Not to get her hopes up or that she was having some urges, just for the chance to sleep better. Yes. She was halfway through the second review when there was a knock on the door and her editor-in-chief entered the room without waiting for permission. Despite mostly handling herself, Alsesta was technically a part of the staff for lifestyle and housekeeping, and her boss was a mare named Stew What, who didn't know smack about food. And therefore, Alsesta despised her, naturally. "Zesty! Great! Just the mare I was looking for!" "Don't. call. me. Zesty. And, yes, here I am. Now that you found me, please leave." "Zesty, Zesty, Zesty! My mare Zesty! You’re full of surprises! It’s just like you, to not say a word and surprise us just like that! I tell you, the directors are over the top about this! I tell you, there will be a fat bonus waiting for you this month. Four numbers." Alsesta stared at her. "Bonus? For what? ...Did my warning against visiting "the Tasty Treat" save that many lives from dead tastebuds?" Stew laughed her boasting stupid laugh. "Ha! You know, Zesty, you can be really funny when you put your mind to it. Come on, don’t be modest! You know!” “I can’t say I do, no.” “Alright, alright, let’s ‘pretend’, shall we. Typically Zesty. Well, I’ll say it straight, you saved the day! Or rather, the weekend. Thanks to you, our weekend special will sell like salt stones in June! " Alsesta looked sceptical. "What have I done?" Stew slapped her on her shoulder, rather hard. "Come on now, Zesty! She told us that all about how you persuaded her to do it! To be honest, I almost fell out of my chair when she said your name. How do YOU know HER?" Alsesta stared at her boss with empty eyes. She had absolutely no idea whatsoever what she was talking about. And who was She...? She. Of course. Then everything fell into place. There was only two mares she knew of with enough reputation to be referred to simply as "she”. One was a princess... And the other was the reason she had spent three days at the office instead of her apartment. "Holy Saint Megan… Please don’t tell me it is Fra...Photo Finish?" "Silly! Of course it is! Do you have any idea how big this is? Photo Finish giving US an exclusive set of pictures? This is a sensation! Clothes by Miss Pommel and Rarity Belle, and modelled by our own star reporters! She will call it 'front page cover extraordinaire'. This is better than our Hearts and Hooves special Q&A with Princess Cadence! Well, gotta run! Can't let her wait! Or ‘She goes!’ She really is something else. Whatever your connection is, be sure to use it again and you might even get a secretary!" And she was gone. Like she would need a secretary. So, Fransbrötchen was in the building now? ...If she worked hard, she would get one article done and then she could take a cart and be gone in half an hour. But somewhere inside her was this nagging wish to look at her. A bit at least. And so, Alsesta found herself in the elevator on its way to the 30th floor where the newsroom was. It was the place in the building with the largest windows and the whole Manehattan skyline behind it. No guess there on where the shoot would take place. She was busy, but five minutes she could afford, just looking. And sure enough, there she was, surrounded by her assistants and with her camera around her neck. Alsesta hid behind a hibiscus and looked at her. Brash and loud as she always was in private, there was a difference between Fransbrötchen and Photo Finish. Fransie was just loud, Photo barked. "More make up! Too much! Not enough! Too much! Enough! And pose! And pose! Ah yes, I, Photo Finish will create… ze magicks here in zis very room! NEIN! Lower ze arm! No, ze other arm! No ze other arm! Yes! Yes! Yes! NEIN! Zis is not some kind of fashion show! Hold zat position! Zis is ze life here! Ze action! Ze drama! Ze intrigues! Ze passion! YES! Like zat! NEIN! BEWEGEN SIE NICHT! JA! JA! JA! ENOUGH! Where is my coffee? More milk! ENOUGH! NEXT!" Alsesta turned around and left. She had seen enough. "Good thing she keeps that side away from home," she muttered to herself. There was nothing likable in that barking and demanding attitude. Nothing at all. Nothing that made her cheeks blush. No. Nope. And that dress she wore… that provoking combination of black, white and pink, and that really slim skirt, with only a small hole for her tail... combined with some really edgy stockings… Coffee. She needed coffee. Now. Back into the safe and quietness of her office she poured another cup of coffee and sat down. She could still escape. There was the possibility that she didn’t know where she worked… Oh, stop being stupid! Of course she know where I work! Why else would she be here. And arrange a photo session! Just to show off… Stupid mare. Automatically her fingers began to move over the typewriter, only waiting for the inevitable. And after 45 minutes, it came. There was another knock on the door, and again she didn’t wait for permission to enter. Alsesta frowned. "What is it now, Stew..." But of course it wasn't Stew. "Hallo liebchen... Such a nice office you have!" Alsesta stared at the flamboyant image in the doorway. She wore exactly the same clothes, only the sunglasses were off. She swallowed and managed to answer pretty clear. "Fransie? What are you doing here?" "Ah, why do jo ask? I saw you before when you tried to be discreet..." She put a hand on Alsesta’s neck and kissed her forehead. “You know why…” Alsesta blushed. "Yes, well... I meant here, now?" "It has been some days, liebchen. I missed you. I wanted to see you.” “You could have called.” “You haven’t given me your number. But I knew where you worked so… here I went.” “Yes, with all your entourage. You could have just come here, you know?” Fransbrötchen placed her hand on her chest in an indignant way. “And let the whole world know that PHOTO FINISH was here to see the great Alsesta Grandeur? The scandal! And you wouldn’t like it…” “Beg your pardon?” “SO! I decided to come here, big style. This way no pony would guess that I’m here to see you…” “You said that I persuaded you to come here!” “And you did! By not responding to me, you made me come to you! What else could I do?” Alesta raised a finger, but found herself without words that descirbed what she felt, and let the hand fall down. “No, I wanted to make an impression! And I wanted... you." Quick as a weasel she had one hand inside of Alsesta’s shirt and began to unbutton it. She swung her leg over Alsesta and straddled her before she had the chance to react but now she caught Fransie’s hand. "What are you... stop!" "Liebchen. ..You didn’t mind when I touched you last Saturday...or the week before… and that time on the couch…” Alsesta’s mind had a fight with a completely different part of her body regarding the response. In the end it was a draw and her answer was "Well... no, but... this is my office! You can’t..." "So? Nopony tells Photo finish what to do and not… " "Please, Fransie… I'm not... wearing a bra..." It was true. She had skipped that part of her outfit this morning, knowing she would be indoors the whole day. And she hoped there was some normal decency in Fransbrötchen. Fransbrötchen smiled. There was evil behind that smile, Alsesta was sure about it. "Well, that's good." She leaned forward and whispered, "Because I am not wearing any panties..." She took Alsesta’s free hand and led it in under her dress and between her legs. It was warm and moist. "Fransie... you..." She leaned even closer. "I want you, engelchen. I need you. Please, love me. Love me now." Alsesta stammered. "But... but... this is an office! I... I have nothing to…” "Wrong, mein liebchen. You are here. And your fingers are exactly where they should be. Just don't move them. I will do ze rest..." And then she began to slowly grind her pelvis against Alsesta’s thighs and fingers. She placed her hands behind her, on Alsesta’s knees, for support. And then she pushed. Aslesta found her fingers sliding inside and out of her lover without herself having to move an inch. Fransie had her mouth half-open, and she breathed heavily. “Mmmm...yes...yes...Zis is good, Engelchen. You are so hard… so stiff…” “They’re fingers, Fransie… They usually are.” “Ah, yes, mein engelchen...Mmmm… and zat’s why a stallion...Ah...has nothing on….mmmm...you…” Alsesta could only look as Fransie began to rock her body faster and harder against her fingers, as if she wanted her whole hand inside her. To her slight irritation, she found herself getting more and more excited. “Do you like...to watch me...engelchen? Do you like… to see your mare...zis aroused?” “Fransie...I… “LIAR! Whatever you were going to tell me was a lie! You are getting excited! Admit it! ADMIT IT! AH AH YES! DEEPER!” She raised her left hand to her chest, and pulled down her dress. She had no bra either, Alsesta could see. She began to caress her breast rather violently. And then she grabbed Alesta by the neck and pulled her closer. “Zuck it.” “What?” “Zuck on my teat, engelchen… I want you to zuck really good and hard… Kiss it, bite it...do whatever you want...but please do it now!” For a single moment Alsesta was shaken by an inner crisis. She ought to throw this intruder out. Show her how little she meant to her and how extremely rude it was to just rush inside and take advantage of her. What she did was to place her arm around Fransie and slightly tug her tail. And place small, quick kisses on her teats. And then she tugged her tail a bit harder. “AH! JO NAUGHTY, FILTHY MARE! YOU WILL…” But then, Fransbrötchen found herself silenced with a kiss. “Do you want my colleagues to hear? Do you want your staff to know?” Fransbrötchen shook her head. “Good. Then you be a good filly and keep. It. down. Photo Finish was annoyed at the remark. As if this mare could give her orders. But Fransbrötchen had to admit that she had a point. Plus it was exciting… the thrill of maybe getting caught, trying to stay quiet. It turned her on even more. The following moments were much quieter, but not less intense. Fransbrötchen’s movements with her hips grew so strong that the chair began to rock. She leaned her head forward and kissed Alesesta. And then she whispered: “Engelchen… touch yourself.” “Whu?” “Touch yourself...I want you to...mmm… cum at ze same time as...me...please…” Alsesta did not hesitate and her hand was under her waistband before she could blink. Fransbrötchen noticed with a coy smile that Alsesta had been more aroused than she had wanted to admit, because the moments her fingers touched her flower, she closed her eyes and began to pant as hard as Fransbrötchen. But she stayed quiet. For some more minutes, there was only the creaking of the chair and the heavy breaths of two older mares banging the shit out of each other. And then… “Fransie… I… I… Oh no…” “I’m close...I’m so close… Come for me, Engelchen...Come for me…” “No way… We said...the same time...and I… Am… a mare of my… WORD! OH crap! Oh crap crap craaaaaap!! “AH! AH! AH MEIN Gott mein Celestia! Aaaaa….” And then, all was silence again. ... Fransbrötchen left Alsesta 15 minutes later. She sat completely still in her chair, just staring, with one hand down her pants. She kept that exact position even three hours later when the cleaner passed. First she shouted at him. Then she went to the bathroom to wash her hands. Then she got herself another cup of coffee. With lots of milk and sugar this time. Screw decorum! She made her decision, she was going to give it. Might as well do it completely. She walked over to the next office, where she lifted the receiver and rang a certain number. “Hello, Fransbrötchen… It’s me… My number is 487634 and… there is this new Neighapolitan place down at 23rd… I was going to test it tonight and… the table is for two… it would be a waste to not… and the Paper is paying… what? No, it would just be convenient… But... But… Yes, but...“ She looked at the wall in silence, and then, almost whispering she said: “Fransbrötchen… would you like to dine with me tonight?”
UncomfortableAlsesta tossed and turned in her bed. She had been like this for at least forty minutes now. For some reason, her body decided it was time to wake up at 2.38 a.m, and also that falling asleep again was a no-no. This in incomprehensibly uncomfortable. Why is there a wrinkle in the sheets, just right there where I have my knee? And who made this pillow so hot! Arrrh! It felt like one of her dishes, where it had to be exactly right or it would never swing. But it was one thing to work with edible things on a plate and her own body. If she could get one leg to the left… Yes, there. Then the arm began to fuss. Down? Yes. There. Then find a good position of the head… slightly backwards… A little further… AH! The hottest place on the pillow! I have to fluff it! She sat up, and arranged her pillow. Then she lay down again, but now her body had changed its mind and required a new position. Alsesta blinked, and sighed. “Bugger,” she whispered. In the dark room she could hear the calm snoring from the other beings in the room. Anton on the floor, somewhere on her right, and Foto right behind her. Tausendschöns purring could be traced from somewhere in the apartment as well. At least, no one else is awake. Alright, I just need to relax myself. Imagination is the creative chefs best friend right after salt and butter. And intelligent company is preferred at this hour, so it’s perfect I’m the only one awake. I can always think about... Her mind went blank, and she stared at the roof. Then she frowned. Ah come on! I should at least be able to rely on myself. No? Ok… No fudge til next month for you, Alsesta. She turned over to her other side, but that didn’t help. Her legs were aching and the pillow was still warm. She looked at the contours of her sleeping wife. Fransie always have a spare pillow. Where is it now... Right under her arm. Damn. I will probably just wake her up if I try. So another urge came up. One that was not silenced by threats or positive thinking. “The Neighagara falls” as daddy had called it. The Neighara falls were calling her right now. Grudgingly she left the bed for the toilet. Even if she hit a few things on her way, she refused to turn on the light. Turning on the light meant accepting she was awake, and she was not going to have that. Her business finished quick and efficient, she went to the kitchen. A glass of milk helped sometimes. She poured a small glass of regular, swiped it in one go, and returned to bed. She closed her eyes, trying to relax by force. Mind over body. To bad the body decided that the nighttime was the body’s time to be in charge then. She sighed and turned over to her side. The night was long, and longer would it be... “Are jo...Yawn... awake, engelchen?” Shit. She sighed again. Ah well… Nothing to do but to accept the inevitable, I guess. “Yes, Fransie. I am awake.” “Ach! Mein poor engelchen… Jo have trouble sleeping? Come over here.” Alsesta turned around to face her wife, and Fransie put her arms around her. “Oh Faust in himmel, jo are tense! Zis night is no good night for jo, love. Have jo not tried to relax?” Alsesta frowned. Fransie could be so naïve at times. “YES, Fransie. I have. I have been trying to find a doable position for some time now, I’ve had a glass of milk, I’ve been to the bathroom and before you say it, no I have not and I outright REFUSE to take a walk or count sheep! I want to sleep. Now.” “Ach. Vell… perhaps I can help jo…” Alsesta rolled her eyes. “What are you going to do? Sleep for me?” “No. Have jo never tried masturbation to calm down?” “WHAT?” She almost sat up in bed, but Fransie held her back. “Jo heard me, and jo should be thankful Minolta is with Bonchen zis weekend. Jor waking ze whole house. So… have jo tried it?” “Um…well… that is…” Even in the darkness, Alsesta didn't want to look Fransie in the eye. “It’s a yes, then.” “Um… yes, but Fransie…” Here she was, a grown mare, blushing. “Ach! Pishposh! Haven’t we done enough things jor father would never approve of in zis room?” “Well, yes, but…” “Ach, say no more! Turn around and let jor Fransie lead jo into ze land of dreams!” Alsesta wasn’t convinced, but she obeyed, and soon she had her back against Fransie. Normally she never gave her wife an inch, but she blamed her sleepless mind for her relative easiness. The idea that she might enjoy the experience was completely shoved aside. Fransie moved closer to her, and soon her hands found their way in under her pajama. One sneaked its way to her chest, and began to gently caressing her breast. Fransie’s fingers were thin and actually rather bony, and yet her touch drove Alsesta mad. Especially when she let her thumb dance over her nipple. Alsesta bit her lip to make sure not a sound above her breathing come out. She was not going to let Fransie believed she enjoyed this invasion of her privacy! The fact that they were married and shared a bed for some years didn’t change a. fucking. thingohholystraswirl! It was in that moment she felt the other much more bold hand, sneaking its way in between her legs and began to stroke her inner thigh, even go as far up as slightly touching her slit. Alesta began to breathe harder and separated her legs slightly, to give more room to Fransies hand. She felt really, really annoyed by her action. Unfortunately for her, that feeling was completely drowned in the sensation of Fransie spreading her finger full, and stroking her lower lips, slowly and gently. No fingers were directly touching the more delicate parts and yet this felt really bloody good. “Mmmm….” Fransie said nothing, but Alsesta could bet she was smirking. She had a reply on her tongue, but in that moment the hand reached exactly THAT spot and she gasped. She felt herself getting warmer, and yet Fransie kept her hand on the outside, her slow strokes moving over the left thigh, then the right… Then back to the left, and then for brief moment landed on her lower lips… Only to teasingly remove it again. “Oooooh…” And when Alsesta thought she could just let thing go and ride it out… Fransie began to speak. “Jo know what… Jo are my favourite zing to play wit, engelchen…” “Oh, just staaaaahp…” Alsesta HATED when Fransie talked during love-making. Because she always used that special, sultry voice she saved for her ,and only her. Because she always talked in teasing euphemisms and half-lid hints that always sounded so extremely dirty. Because it drove her so insanely horny and she hated it so much and she was not giving in at all and she was trying so hard to control herself and stupid stupid stupid Alsesta she was driving her even more nuts with her self-inflicted orgams denial and that Tartaros-born Fransie KNEW that and that was why she always did it that bloody cunt oh Faust shut up and let me cum already please I can’t stand it anymore I can’t… Her thoughts were halted by a finger finding it’s way inside and once again hitting THAT spot and she couldn’t stop her mouth this time. “AH! AAummph...” “Wat was zat, engelchen? I thought jo were enjoying jorself…?” “Mmmmmm… Stupid kraut...” Fransie smiled. “Thought zo.” Alsesta bit her lip, Fransie was the most impatient mare in the world at every time, except in these moments. She could tease forever, and more than once she had grown tired and just grabbed Fransies hand and finished herself. Fransie crept a bit closer and now her mouth was just inches from Alsestas ear. She whispered, “Jo like zis, don’t jo, engelchen?” Alsesta nodded. “But let us tip jo over ze edge in ze best way… What is jor fantasy, engel?” Alsesta replied, her mind dimmed by the intense feelings.“Wha…what?” “Jor fantazies, engelchen. Ze mares do jo zink of when Jo are getting off?” “Uhn…You, Fransie…” But Fransie was not satisfied with that answer. “Tsk, tsk tsk… Boring. No, I KNOW jo, engel… It is perfectly natural to look at others, to have…urges… Jo have REAL fantazies, I’m sure!” “AAAH!” “And even with only one eye… I can see jor mind, Engelchen. Oh yes… I KNOW ZINGS!” Alsesta didn’t like where this were heading, but her body had decided this was bizarro night, and acted completely opposite to what she should feel and she became even more excited by Fransies words. “I have seen jor eyes following my Bonchen when she walks over ze room… Ach, dem hips… Dem wide, pudgy, child-bearing hips… That’s jor trigger, isn’t it?” “AH!” “But jo have eyed others to… How about… hmm… Ah, yes! Mrs Rarity! Now THERE’s a mare! Ah, such grace, such elegance… She walks like an angel… But it is perhaps her horn that get’s jor engine going? Zat long, nice horn… Is zat what jo want?” “F-f-fuck you…” “Or is it perhaps ze idea of tight clothing? Zat PT of mine… ze Minotaur, Platinum Grace?” “Don’t you d-dare…” “Those yoga-pants she’s sporting? It’s like she is POURED into zem!” “Just… Just let me cum… Please, Fransie…” But Fransbrötchen did not falter, she leaned even closer to Alsestas ear and more or less hissed, “But why satisfy with that when jo have dem all three at once? Pixel Pizazz… engelchen.” “AAH!” “Oh yez...I have seen jo look at her, when she is assisting me at a shoot. Is zat jor preferred mare, Engelchen?” Alsesta tried her hardest NOT to think about Pixel, all in vain. How Fransie knew she had no idea, but she had indeed been eying the young unicorn once or twice. Just to pass time, of course. Not once having any indecent thoughts about her. She was married, for Faust’s sake! “Ah, it is! Zat young, confident smile...” “Mmmmmm...” “And her horn? Rather short, but also so thick at ze base…” “Aaah…J-jerk” “And of course those hips! Her wide, perfect, promising hips!” “Fransie…I...I” “Ah, how jo would love to feel those strong thighs around jo, or separate them, or tear down her undies with jor teeth… I have her number jo know… I can make her come her, ask her to wear those tight jeans she had last time we did that gig in Ponyville and ask her to pick up pins from ze floor. One by one, giving jo view after view after…” “FRANSIE! SHUT YOUR FUCKING… OH CRAP! CRAP! OH CRAAAAaaaaaahpp… Oh Luna…” Alsesta could hardly breathe and her forehead was covered in sweat. If the pillow wasn’t warm before… And of course, Fransie couldn’t shut up. “Did jo enjoy it, Engelchen?” Alsesta could only nod. “But jo know what’s better than an orgasm, Engelchen?” She closed her eyes. She was almost worn out. “No…” “Two orgasms.” Alsesta suddenly realised that Fransie hadn’t removed her hand and once again she began to stroke her. And suddenly, a new sensation arose. Fransie had placed nothing but two fingertips right on top of her flower and began to rapidly move them. Only to the left, strangely enough. All the warm feelings she thought had disappeared with her last orgasm suddenly returned full throttle, concentrated to one spot, and one spot alone. The effect was instant, it was as if her nethers were exploding and she cried right out, “FRANSIE! CRAP!” “Oh…I have find myself a keeper then… Are jo perhaps ready to cum for me once more already, engelchen?” “FRANSIE, CELESTIA'S TEATS I HATE YOU! I HATE YOOOOOOOO AAAAAHHHH!” Alsestas body was shaking from the strongest orgasm she’d had in years. Now her whole pajama was covered in sweat and if she had to leave this bed and this mare in one hundred years it would still be to early. But that didn’t stop her from mobilizing her last powers and turn around to glare at her wife. “Was ALL OF THIS really necessary?” Perhaps not as powerful as she would have preferred, but she had to put her foot down! Yes! “Definitely! Jo came, did jo not?” “Yes… Yes and thank you very much,” No reason to deny facts but…” But I’m not relaxed! I’m wide awake, so still, thank you for nothing!” Fransie did her best Golden Hayn impression and bit her thumb in a mock-childish way. “Oooh… Sorry engelchen, my bad. It is me that gets tired from sex… “ Alsesta clould do nothing but look at her wife, dead-pan. “You.” “Yes… And i feel very much pumped up and my brain is buzzing. I need to relax…right now… Oh, I need to relax SO BAD! if only somepony could come to my aid…” She lay herself on the side, presenting her whole body to Alsesta with a smirk. The moon shone into the room from the smallest window (We need to get a curtain for that one) and it made Fransie shimmer in the silver light. She sighed. There was no way she could tell Fransie how it felt to get some of your secrets thrown right in your face while being turned on up to eleven without getting really rude, and at the moment she were out of passable insults. And it was not like she wanted her to not do it again, it was just… surprising. She looked at her wife. Fransie had placed a finger on her navel and began to trace her way down in between her legs. Oh, well, I’m wide awake anyway… “I’ll get die Kaiser.” Author's Note I regret nothing. And coffee is good.
