Big, round, and captivating with a strange appeal: this was the only way that Gosling could describe Celestia’s thigh, which was inches from his nose. His eyes kept darting off to one side to look, he couldn’t stop, he was unable to help himself. Seeing that smooth, velvety limb of pale alabaster filled him with strange horse wants, peculiar horse desires, and weird horse needs. It was dreadful having horse needs, as horse needs weren’t necessarily civilised needs.

That fleshy, meaty looking thigh had quivering muscles that mesmerised him, beguiled him, there was something about it that bewitched his mind. Especially that part where the thigh connected to the body, and that thin webbing of skin. It was in that spot that the softest, silkiest hairs could be found, and he loved to bury his snoot there and snort. There was a faint rustle of paper when Celestia turned the page of her book and Gosling’s ears stood tall. She was distracted.

Without warning, Gosling suffered a horse moment: while twisting his neck around, his mouth opened wide and he clamped down upon the soft, tender flesh of the white mare’s thigh. It was satisfying like little else, and an electric thrill shot through his body while her flesh tensed against his teeth.

“AAAAAAAAARGH! Gosling! Why?”

“Horse moment,” he replied and he craned his head around to look up at the big white mare lying beside him on the bed.

“That’s my excuse! Go get your own!” Celestia’s lower lip quivered as it protruded, and her muzzle wrinkled as a magnificent pout overtook her features. “I keep telling you… when I bite or nip you all of a sudden, I can’t help it! I have strong instincts!”

“So do I.” Rolling over onto his back and spreading his hind legs to get more comfortable, Gosling focused on the now upside-down-in-his-vision Celestia. “It was just there… and so tempting to bite. I had a horse moment.” He kicked his hind legs up into the air and began scratching his croup against the bedspread, enduring yet another horse moment. Butt-scratchies made his horsey hindbrain happy.

“That was my thigh!” Celestia’s voice was husky with pain, and her eyebrows furrowed as her pouty face intensified. “No warning, no nothing, just chomp!”

“Well, yeah, that’s kinda how a horse moment works—”

“Luna is right, you’re a ruffian!” Celestia’s eyes lingered just a little too long on Gosling’s exposed stomach and reacting to what she saw, she began to gnaw on her lower lip. After a moment, when her mouth opened, her lip slipped free and it was darkened with moisture. “Now my thigh is all hot, Gosling… blow on it.”

Wiggling on his back, he tried to reposition his head to a better angle, and his struggle upset the blankets. There were red teeth marks in Celestia’s thigh, which was exciting and enticing. Something about how the redness stood out against the soft, supple pink flesh that lurked just below the short, fuzzy hairs of her pelt. There was another place on her body that changed from pink to red when nibbled on and he thought of that now while he pursed his lips and blew.

Then, he heard the sound of a page being turned, and knew that she had gone back to reading. This was how the game was played: ignoring one another until such a point was reached that it became impossible. There were no rules, and just about anything was fair. Celestia was better at this game by far, and she had multiple spans of lifetimes to practice being a pest.

Once more, Celestia’s thigh was inches away from his snoot, and she had gone back to reading. Gosling didn’t have eons of practice at being a pest, but he had all of the eagerness of youth, and a healthy dollop of stupidity as well. That tender thigh was awful tempting, the downy fuzziness of it, the chewy muscle, it all proved to be too much for the young, brash, foolish pegasus.

CHOMP!

“OW! YOU FEATHERBRAIN!” Celestia’s book snapped shut with a righteous rustling of its pages and she turned her baleful gaze upon her mate to glower at him with all of the celestial fury she could muster. “Did your mother birth a tarrasque? What’s wrong with you?”

“Horse moment,” Gosling replied, his ears almost ringing, and he borrowed Celestia’s excuse once more.

“I should throw you in the dungeon.” One eyebrow arched, the other eyebrow bore down, shading Celestia’s left eye, which now squinted with focused fury.

With his front legs, Gosling gestured at the room around him. “This is the nicest dungeon I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in a few. Too bad I don’t have a more attractive cellmate though. A real shame. Oh well, at least we have pillowcases.”

Now, both eyebrows bore down, forming an angry ‘V’ just below the length of Celestia’s magnificent horn. Nostrils flaring, ears quivering, her dock began to wiggle, which caused her ethereal tail’s gentle flow to become erratic, almost fractal in nature. Extending one wing, she stuck out one primary feather and then stabbed Gosling right in the nose with it.

The sooty dappled pegasus sneezed and all four of his legs kicked upwards into the air. “Cheating!” he managed to say in between a burst of sneezes. “Dirty”—more sneezes spilled forth, and he wiggled on his back as the sneezes racked his body—“cheater!” Whipping his head around, Gosling fought back the only way he could: he pressed his muzzle into the soft webbing where Celestia’s thigh met with the bulging curve of her stomach, and he sneezed.

“Ugh! This backfired! Horrendously!” Disgusted, covered in snot, the now soiled white alicorn let out a groan of dismay as the sticky, slimy consequences of her actions now coated her belly.

He might have lost the battle, but Gosling was winning the war. The shower or the tub was a far, far better battlefield for him, because a wet Gosling was a sexy Gosling. Some ponies were sexier in the rain than out of it, and he was one of those ponies. Overcome by sneezes, Gosling continued to use Celestia as a tissue, hoping to leave her so soiled that she had no choice but to retreat into the battlefield of his choosing.

The steady thrum of water against the tiles of the shower sounded a lot like rain. Droplets came down from overhead and helpful jets sprayed water from the sides too. These were useful for cleaning things like wingpits, hard to reach places, and that tough to clean spot just beneath the dock. Celestia’s shower was as big as some ponies’ living rooms or parlours, because she was a big behemoth of a creature that needed a lot of room to spread her wings.

The big white alicorn’s pale pink skin was now more of an exciting hot pink, made so by the hot water. The enclosed shower was filled with steam, the heavy kind of steam that opened up the pores and made the skin sting in just the right way, making a good scrub all the more satisfying. The larger alicorn and the somewhat smaller pegasus kept a wary eye on one another, as each knew the tricks the other was capable of.

The battlefield was Gosling’s, after all.

Water ran down Celestia’s sides in glistening rivulets, following the swollen curve of her belly. Her current condition was evidence of earlier conquest, which, surprisingly enough, had also started off with a bite, only she had bit Gosling on the neck while suffering a ‘horse moment’ of her own. The pent up pegasus paid her back the only way he could, and her current rotund condition was the end result.

Turning about, Gosling braved exposing his backside to Celestia so he could focus on hers. He brushed up against her cutie mark and could feel the weird magic tingle of its projection through her pelt. It was electric, alluring, spurred him onward to seek other sensations. Rubbing his cheek along the wet, somewhat clingy curve of her generous backside, he moved his head upward, going against the grain of her pelt, and only stopped when his snoot was a few scant inches from her dock, which wiggled in anticipation of his lavish affections.

Stretching out his neck a bit, his lips extended and reaching, Gosling took Celestia’s fragile dock into his mouth. He nibbled along the edge, and the sensation of his teeth pinching the flesh ignited his brain with desire. He could feel the hard bones of her dock just inside the thin skin, and he was careful, mindful of how sensitive this area was. His ministrations were tender, kind, and affectionate.

Celestia’s left hind hoof stomped against the tile with the soft force of a distant thunderclap, and the sound echoed and reverberated off of the many white tiles. Gosling continued his nibbling, pulling and stretching the skin as tight as a drum about the tiny bones inside, he continued to provoke a reaction, delighting in how his mate squirmed from his attention.

But this was not enough.

After a good squeezing nip that made Celestia moan, he let go, opened his mouth, and stuck out his tongue, which vanished into the fuzzy hollow that existed just below Celestia’s white, velvet dock. Using the edge of his tongue, he grazed the cluster of nerves that he knew lurked within there, and was rewarded by a full body shiver from the sopping wet, steaming alicorn. When she squirmed too much, he pulled his tongue away and waited, allowing the anticipation to build.

Being the impatient sort, the big mare took a half step backwards, eager for Gosling’s probing tongue to continue its work. There was a flash of orange and once more, Gosling invaded the secret folds of her flesh with his most dextrous organ, which he moved like a paint brush across her most sensitive areas. It was clear that he was driving her wild, because her dock flagged, rising high to grant greater access, and then squeezed down, trying to shield herself when the sensation became overwhelming.

“No other…”—Celestia’s words were gasps, almost pants—“pony has… ever done… what you… are doing… right now!” Her back arched, all of her muscles spasmed, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “This is… an itch… I never… knew that… I had!”

Against Gosling’s cheek, he felt a radiant heat that penetrated into his jaw. Already, she was showing signs of need. Her tight little pucker was vivid pink and clenching, tickled by the velvet of his jaw. Just a bit lower, her slit needed a little more coaxing. Her hidden lips—a clean, neat, almost unnoticeable folded-shut cleft—had turned a garish bubblegum pink, but had not yet grown puffy, nor was anything winking.

To ignite the sun with burning lust, Gosling applied more pressure while he pushed hard into the hidden folds beneath her dock. The skin—some loose, some tight—was kneaded by his tongue, stretching it, pulling it from side to side, up and down, and then, knowing it would push her over the edge, he began to make a circular motion. Just below his ear, he heard a lewd, wet squelch, his reward for a job well done.

The water from the shower pounded against their bodies, almost unnoticed.

It ran down through the many tiny wrinkles that formed when Celestia flexed and wiggled her dock, then cascaded over Gosling’s probing, curious tongue. Celestia’s voluminous, expansive hindquarters swayed from side to side while the muscles of her hocks tugged and jerked. Gritting her teeth together, she pressed the side of her face into the hard edge of the soap shelf while trying to ride out the demanding need for release, for relief.

The faint lapping sounds of Gosling’s eager exploration were almost drowned out by the steady rhythm of the falling water, but the moist sounding squishes that came from Celestia’s hot, excited crotch almost echoed off of the shower walls. Her lips were now puffy, swollen, more than doubled in size, and her tight, compact slit—almost invisible in the vast expanse of white that was her hidden places—was now a visible, inviting place, begging for attention.

A tiny pink knob popped out like a silly looking cuckoo peeking out from its clock, and then vanished once more with a clingy slurp that sounded like a knife being dredged through a jam jar. The scent of vanilla now blended with the citrus scent of soap as Gosling continued with his task. The underside of Celestia’s dock would be the cleanest in all of Equestria—at least until he made a mess in it.

Celestia’s winking nubbin made another appearance, then another, and it wasn’t long until it moved with metronomic regularity. With each teasing wink, droplets of oily squalene mixed with running water and glistened in the faint glow of the overhead light. There was a screech as Celestia’s horn scraped along the tile, leaving behind a score that would need a repair spell to fix.

Stretching his neck, Gosling pulled away, gasping for air and filling his lungs with fragrant steam. Celestia wasn’t having this, not at all, and she waggled her backside from side to side with her dock flagged straight up while her ears drooped into a submissive, almost pleading position. Taking a moment to unkink his neckbones, he took a little break to sort himself out so he could prepare for what came next.

His movements caused his hardened length to slap against his belly, an almost painful sensation made worse by the sting caused by the hot water. Being young, he was always almost full to bursting with need and there was already a dull ache in his balls that he struggled to ignore. That ache would be tended to soon enough, one way or another, but for now, if he wanted to make the sun go down, he first had to make her shine.

Author's Note

I have some real doubts about posting this. Reservations. This is part of a much larger, much more involved story, with in jokes, and context, and all manner of little silly, endearing things. This isn’t just ~~clop~~ equine erotica, but the continuation of a story. If you came here looking for mindless, formulaic dirty clop, you’re going to be sorely disappointed, and I offer you my most sincere apologies in advance. But if story matters, characters, content, context, and feeling, then I hope you’ll give this a chance. It’ll be a few chapters long.

Thank you, gentle reader, for choosing to have a look at my work.