It was Lyra and Octavia's own little ritual; every night after a performance with the ensemble, they would go to a bar, have a couple of drinks, and do a late-night decompress after a stressful evening.
Tonight was stressful indeed. They had performed for a ball, in honor of Princess Twilight, at Ponyville's castle. Royalty had that little perk for themselves, where everyone of a different stature was forced to fold inward on his or herself under the watch of divinity. Even after four years of experience, it was the only time either of them felt nervous before a performance, made worse by the fact that many of the musicians tonight were fresh.
At least they were in the town they called home, so they could easily get plastered at Berry Punch's tavern and bring back a warm, able body for some real stress release.
"So...thoughts on the new meat?" Lyra asked, pushing the door open for herself and Octavia. Lyra had dressed down to a faded green sleeveless top, flats, and skinny jeans, but Octavia remained in some formal wear, a black pantsuit and heels that clacked with authority. Anything where the pink bow-tie didn't seem out of place on the outfit, even if it made herself a black sheep in a crowd. The sudden roar of murmurs in the sea of people nearly overtook Lyra adding a specification—"Particularly the meat part."
Octavia rolled her eyes. "Yes, Lyra, the new trumpet and tuba were very hot." They waved at Berry Punch behind the bar, who waved back as she glided over to a bottle of red wine, and took their usual place at a table behind a dart board in the far back. "Very hot and very...muscular. It's quite peculiar."
"Especially for a couple of music nerds. I mean, okay, I understand it with a tuba. They're heavy. But trumpet? There's no way you need to be so ripped for that."
"Hey, girls," said Berry Punch, arriving with their drinks on a tray. She was a sturdily built woman with her fuchsia hair pulled back into a bun and a set of motherly wrinkles framing her eyes. She picked up the wine from the tray. "Glass of red wine for Tavi—"
"Thank you."
"—and a pint of draft for Lyra," Berry continued in a bad, fake Irish accent.
"Thank ye, lass." Both women took a healthy drink.
"Was going to ask how the ball went, but by the way you're chugging your drinks I think I can infer."
Lyra, with a bushy mustache of foam, answered, "First night with a few new musicians."
"Breaking them in at a ball for a princess? Yeesh. I'd definitely drink myself to death over it. And here," Berry pulled out a bundle of napkins from a pocket in her apron and tossed them over to Lyra, "wipe your mouth, pig."
"Oink, oink!"
"Oh, hush it!" Berry swung the tray in her hands back, feigning to hit a laughing Lyra. Octavia shook her head.
"That's not all," Octavia said, "the new trumpet and tuba players, Brass Blare and B. Sharp respectively, are godly with their looks. It seemed like every single woman in Equestria was on them tonight."
Berry leaned onto the table. "And lemme guess, neither of you got a ride before the Towers of Power closed for the night?"
"Couldn't even get a word in edgewise outside of introducing ourselves," Lyra replied.
"Ouch. Well, maybe it's for the better." Berry straightened up and her hands rested on her hips. "Surely a pair of hunks like them would have a couple of women who scored the season pass and wouldn't take too kindly to sharing."
"Perhaps," Octavia admitted, "but they took the attention in a way only singles do. They weren't nervous, looking over their shoulder. They practically basked in it."
Lyra nodded. "Also, what kind of girlfriend wouldn't go to her boyfriend's first performance?"
"It was a private ball, so..."
"Ahh, true. I forgot about that part."
Berry started in the direction of the bar, pausing mid-gait to say, "Maybe you'll find some other company tonight instead. The ball brought a lot of new people in, so just be on the lookout. Now I gotta go back to manning the bar, so just holler if you need a refresher—BOLT! GET OUT FROM BACK THERE!" Just as she turned, Berry saw an old man scurry out from behind the bar. Everyone at the bar laughed heartily while Berry stomped over to take the free mug of beer the man had procured. Octavia and Lyra turned back around in their chairs.
"Which one?" Octavia asked suddenly, swirling the wine around in the glass.
"What?"
"Which one? Brass or Sharp?"
Lyra scrunched up her face and sought the answer within her beer. A sip later, she smacked her lips and said, "Brass."
"Brass? Really?"
Lyra shrugged. "He has a nice ass, he's funny, and his fingers are large yet nimble."
Octavia hummed. "Very good points. I'm partial to Sharp myself."
"Sure, I guess. He always so stiff though."
"I wouldn't be surprised," Octavia said, with her glass close to her mouth, "with all the women trying reach for it tonight."
Beer was nearly sprayed onto the table from Lyra's nose. When her composure was regained, she chuckled. "Color me surprised. The uptight Canterlot woman has a sense of humor. I thought I would have to take you to the E.R. to get that stick removed."
"Unlike you, I at least know a little something about finesse, like knowing the timing of when telling that story from college is appropriate or not."
Lyra held up her hands defensively. "Hey, I apologized to your mother about that."
"And yet, it didn't exempt me from the earful I had received about preserving my innocence for my future husband." A shudder ran through her spine, but another healthy drink of wine calmed it.
"Nevertheless, you wanting Sharp and me wanting Brass means we have no conflicting targets."
"But do we have a chance with all the attention they were getting?"
"Of course we do! Just look at us." Lyra gestured to herself and her friend. "We're hot, single women with experience! I have great tits, and you have a wonderful ass! What hell would it be be if we didn't?"
"Fair." Octavia bit her lip and her eyes went distant.
"You're thinking about Sharp, aren't you?"
A dreamy sigh drifted out. "Do you think he's strong enough to pick me up and pin me against a wall?"
"I think—" Lyra's eyes widened as they lifted up toward the bar door. "I think you should ask him yourself," she said, gesturing to the door with her mug.
Octavia swiveled in her chair to see two platinum-haired men having entered the bar, just as the head of every woman snapped to the duo as if ready to pounce on the unsuspecting men. Berry stood agape, oblivious to the overflowing mug spilling over the draft. It was like time had stopped. The one on the left, B. Sharp, was a massive man with broad shoulders and pecs bursting through his downy t-shirt. He had short hair that bristled lazily at the gentle breezes from the movement of his head. Brass Blare, on the right, wasn't as broad as Sharp but was just as toned. His silvery-white hair was longer, touching the collar of his plaid button-up.
"No fucking way," Octavia muttered.
"Looks like they're about to get torn to pieces in a minute," Lyra observed. She stood and started for Brass and Sharp. "Come on and follow my lead." Octavia followed obediently.
"Hey, babe!" Lyra wrapped her arm around Brass's. "We're seated over in the back."
The look on the boys' faces read like they recognize Lyra and Octavia. Brass quickly looked to Sharp, finding that Octavia had wordlessly coiled her arm around him. Sharp only shrugged in reply.
"Uh...yeah, honey," Brass said carefully, "I was just going to order us a couple beers and—"
"Berry can bring them," Octavia chimed, flashing the bartender a knowing glance. "Put it on our tab?"
"Y-Yeah, sure thing."
"Come on, Tavi and I have a funny story to tell you," Lyra said, pulling Brass's arm like the halter on a horse. The stallion yielded with Octavia and Sharp following close behind. Two chairs were robbed from a nearby empty table for them followed by Berry with their beers.
"Here you go, fellas," she said, placing the beers onto a pair of coasters. She hovered over the guys a tad too long for Lyra's liking.
"Hey, Berry, forgot to ask, but how's the husband?"
Berry Punch frowned, and the wrinkles along her eyes deepened. "He's fine. At home taking care of Pinchy."
"Good, good." Lyra's smile became disgustingly saccharine. "Glad to hear things are still doing great."
Berry sighed and left, and Brass and Sharp exchanged confused glances.
"Okay," Sharp started, "mind explaining what happened?"
Lyra took a gulp of her beer and set her mug down. "We saved your beautiful asses is what happened."
"Both of you were about to get mauled by a group of mostly thirty-something divorcees," Octavia specified.
"Oh, uh, thanks...?"
"Don't mention it," Lyra waved her hand about dismissively. "I know we didn't much time to talk earlier, what with all the women after you, so I'm surprised neither of you currently has one under an arm."
"We just weren't into any of them," Brass said.
"I like a nice classy lady who prefers to let loose in private, instead of in the middle of a ballroom floor," Sharp added. Octavia and Lyra exchanged a set of looks and expressions. "Okay, don't know what that was about."
"Oh, well, Octavia here," Lyra said, pointing to the woman across from her, "is the textbook-fucking-definition of classy. Born and raised by the classiest Canterlot pedigree."
"Don't listen to her," Octavia said, hiding her eyes behind her bangs. "Lyra tends to make things up when she gets drunk, or she'll buy things she can't afford—"
"I'm not drunk, and the wine will always lie to you."
"—so you'll have to forgive her. But I am curious about why you gentlemen are doing here in the first place. Would figure you'd be in your hotel rooms."
"Oh, Sharp and I like to bar-hop after a show. But it seems like this town has only the one."
"Ayy, same here," Lyra said, raising her glass. "And yeah, Ponyville only has one, run by Berry Punch, the married woman that brought you your drinks."
"And you couldn't ask for a better hostess," Octavia added. "She'd give an arm if it meant getting something a customer wanted."
"How gracious," Brass commented. All four took a drink.
"If you don't me asking," Lyra began, "how did you two meet?"
Sharp gave a hum around his bottle and set it down. "Simple, we're half-brothers."
"Yup, same dad. Different mothers."
Lyra and Octavia rang with a realizing "Ooooh," followed by a sad "Ooh..." The brothers nodded solemnly.
"Yeah, Dad was not a great man," Brass said.
"Womanizing or cheating?" Lyra asked.
"Cheating, with my mom on his mom," Brass answered. Sharp said nothing, keeping a murky gaze on his bottle. "B. here doesn't like talking about it. It kind of destroyed his mother. He doesn't hold it against me, however."
"Because you didn't make him do it."
The table fell under a strange silence, with other bits of conversation from elsewhere in the bar floating in. Brass broke the fog. "I guess we should ask the same to you, how did you two meet?"
"Roommates in college," the girls answered with seemingly practiced timing.
"College?" Brass said curiously. "Aren't you both from Canterlot? Figured you would have gone to school together there at least."
"Nope," Lyra said, shaking her head. "I went to Celestia's School for the Gifted."
"And I was home-schooled."
"Ah. So what college did you attend."
"Fillydelphia's School of Music and Arts," they chorused. Lyra added, "Biggest waste of money ever."
"Like most art degrees, virtually useless outside of looking nice on the wall and a resume," Sharp said.
Brass scratched his cheek. "I hear that's a party school."
"It is," Octavia said. "Happens when you get a bunch of aspiring young artists and musicians together."
"In fact," Lyra put on a cocky grin, "you're looking at the girl's keg stand champion of '08, heavyweights division."
"Heavyweight?" Sharp looked Lyra up and down. "You couldn't be more than a hundred and twenty pounds."
"Heavyweight in terms of alcohol tolerance," Octavia explained. "Lyra was infamous back then for being able to drink even grown men under the table." She allowed a chuckle as Lyra started flexing and kissing her biceps.
"Sounds like you girls were in the thick of it," said Brass, leaning on the table and playing with his nearly empty beer bottle. "Bet you have a few amazing stories."
Octavia nodded, "We have some, but I'm not one to kiss and tell." She rolled her eyes when Lyra started hopping in her seat. "And one of them in particular is Lyra's favorite."
"Oh, oh, can I tell it, please, please, ple—"
"No, Lyra." Octavia waggled a finger. "Remember, finesse."
"Come on," Lyra whined, "we're four adults in a—" She finally caught the twinkle in Octavia's eye. "Right, finesse," she muttered. "Uh, yeah, I can't tell that story. We barely know you guys." Lyra downed the rest of her beer.
"Yes, but maybe we can a little better, by continuing this elsewhere," Octavia suggested.
Sharp arched a brow. "Like?"
"My place," the girls chorused again. "What?"
"Lyra, Vinyl's not going to bother us. She stays in her room."
"Yeah, and Bonnie's in Manehattan for the weekend."
"...Right, her place. What do you say?"
Sharp and Brass looked at each other, and a conversation of shrugs and furrowing eyebrows was had in a couple of seconds before Brass smiled. "Sure, why not?" The group stood to leave, making sure that none of their drinks were left. On their way out, Lyra and Octavia waved bye to Berry while she washing a stack of mugs. She laughed and shook her head.
"Godspeed, ladies, godspeed."
Outside, the summer humidity clung to the air like a desperate lover. The girls stood by the man of their choice, Brass and Lyra leading their little procession to Lyra and Bonnie's apartment. In truth, it was the second floor to Bonnie's storefront, retro-fitted into a living space. In the start, when business was slow and the rent was high, Bonnie took in a roommate to help, but after five years she instead gained a close friend and an occasional employee sneaking out pieces of taffy.
Talk consisted of swapping stories, tales of two adventurous brothers or of the kind of idiocy found only in a college dorm hall. Legendary parties, momentous wars of cardboard and foam, old crushes, and losing the spark of romance. They were laughing up to the jingle of keys in a lock above a sign reading Bon Bon's Confectioneries.
The door was thrown open, revealing a party of giggles and chuckles. Lyra flipped the light on. "Make yourselves at home."
Brass, Sharp, and Octavia settled into the couch. Lyra flew to the open kitchen, tossing her handbag onto a table, and returned with four beers.
"Here you go," she gave one each to Brass and Sharp and offered one to Octavia.
"Lyra, you know I don't drink beer."
"You also said you didn't smoke pot but by the end of freshman year, you were doing it in the school bathrooms. And I don't have any wine just for you."
"...Fine, I'll take the beer." Octavia took the bottle into her hands and gave the cap a twist. She inhaled a whiff from the bottle, recoiled at the smell, and tentatively took a sip.
"Have you never drunk beer before?" Sharp asked.
"Never. Always thought it reeked and looked like piss." Another sip, this time with a smack of her lips. "Admittedly, it grows on you though." The brothers chuckled.
The chatter continued, as did the beer for another half an hour and another beer for everyone.
"Hey, Sharp," Octavia started, "I've been curious to ask, what does the 'B' stand for in your name?" She and Lyra looked on with expectation.
Sharp sighed. "It's...Brendan."
"Really? That's it?" said Lyra, "I thought it would be something fun. Like 'Big.'"
"Big Sharp," Octavia repeated. "I bet it would be quite apt in a lot of ways, wouldn't it?"
Sharp chuckled. "I can assure you that it is."
"Call me old-fashioned, but I'm a seeing-is-believing type."
"That can be arr—"
The girls had finally had it. Enough of the games. The coyness. With an almost rehearsed timing only the best of friends could have, they tossed aside the pretense and threw themselves at their respective interests, straddling their laps and locking them down with kisses. Everyone hummed at the contact; Lyra even moaned as large hands glided along her ass.
The general plan for the rest of the night was agreed upon.
Hands went from caressing to groping and wandering. Brass's latched onto Lyra's ass like magnets, and Lyra's lithe hands massaged his pecs. Sharp squeezed Octavia's plushy tits through her shirt, causing the woman to moan. Octavia, in return, ground her hips into his crotch, cooing at the hardness she felt, causing Sharp to pull away from the kiss to growl a low "Fuuuuuck."
Lyra, on the other hand, could barely contain herself, dry-humping Brass as he reached up to remove Lyra's shirt and discard it onto the floor. A perky pair of breasts were exposed to the air-conditioned home.
"No bra? What a naughty girl."
"So naughty. I deserve a spanking." Their faces mashed again, uncoordinated and uncaring, only seeking the breath of the other.
Octavia turned her head while Sharp sent a row of pecks down her neck. "Lyra."
"Yeah?"
"I think it's story-time."
Lyra and Brass kissed again. Brass pulled away. "Story-time?"
"Of that one night in college."
"Seems like a weird time to tell a story, isn't it?" Brass chuckled.
Lyra nibbled on his ear and whispered, "Then how about we show instead of tell?" She and Octavia hopped off the men's laps, spinning and swaying their hips as they sauntered over to a door in the back of the apartment. "Well, are you attending or not, fellas? It's one-night-only." And they disappeared into the room, the door left open.
After exchanging curious looks, Brass and Sharp stood awkwardly, wary of their dicks having hardened in uncomfortable places in their pants, and followed the girls into the room. Their jaws hit the floor.
Lyra and Octavia were fiercely kissing on the edge of a bed—very obviously Lyra's by how the tint of green in her hair matched nearly everything on the bed and in the room—with their shoes kicked off at the foot of the bed. Octavia's jacket had been tossed aside. They seemed more practiced, more careful, than they had been with the brothers. One of Octavia's eyes cocked open to see the guys gawking in the doorway.
"Seems like our guests have arrived," she said quickly before planting another kiss on Lyra's lips. "Why don't you tell them, Lyra?"
Lyra licked her lips, savoring the taste of strawberry chap-stick. "College is a time for learning, and Octavia and I learned a couple things back then. First, boys love nothing more than a show of a couple of chicks making out and feeling each other up." Lyra went in for another round, finishing by gently pulling Octavia's bottom lip with her teeth. "And we love nothing more than putting that show on." The statement was punctuated with the tearing of fabric, as Lyra gripped Octavia's gray dress shirt by the front and ripping it open, causing buttons to fly and revealing a black lacy bra barely containing the flesh within.
"Lyra!" Octavia scolded. "That shirt cost eighty dollars!"
"Whatever, you like it when I do that." A glare was aimed at her. "Ugh, fine! I'll buy you a new one at Rarity's tomorrow! Let's just..." Lyra trailed off as the shirt was fully shed to show a flat stomach and an interesting gem: a pierced navel.
They looked at Brass and Sharp, nearly left forgotten, still standing in the doorway. "Have a seat, boys," Octavia cooed, gesturing to two chairs next to the desk by the door. "Relax and enjoy yourselves while we do the same."
"And then we'll enjoy you studs."
Brass and Sharp made for the chairs, taking them and setting them far enough apart that it wouldn't be weird should one of them start stroking himself.
"Aww, look at them. They're embarrassed," Lyra laughed, "So cute."
"Shh, enough about them for now." A peck on the lips. "Let it be just us."
The kissing returned, and Lyra reached around to unhook Octavia's bra. The spillage of flesh was set free; while Octavia's breasts were a full size above Lyra's, they lacked perkiness and sagged slightly under their own mass. Lyra took a handful of the left and kneaded, rolling it in her fingers until her thumb and index finger met the hardened nipple. A small pinch, and Octavia broke the kiss to gasp.
A Cheshire grin spread across Lyra's face. She wrapped an arm around Octavia's midsection and tossed her onto her back, straddling her hips and running her hands along Octavia's bare torso.
"Hey!" Octavia protested, before jerking as a mouth clamped onto her right nipple, "How come you get to be on top? You were on top last time!"
The nipple was released with a pop, and goosebumps rose from the cold, wet skin. "Because I know how much you love being a bottom, and you know how much I love to get rough." Lyra returned to the nipple.
"Sometimes you get a bit too rough—Ah!" Octavia arched her back, her free left tit bouncing with the movement, when Lyra bit her nipple. "Fuck, Lyra, are trying to make me cum early?"
"If I wasn't, I wouldn't be doing a very good job, would I?"
Octavia didn't answer, trailing her hands down Lyra's own bare stomach, stopping at the button of her jeans. Fingers expertly popped them open instantly and pulled down the zipper.
Lyra took this as a sign to move onward. Giving the tender nub a final lick of her tongue, she descended to kiss above the pierced navel and downward until she reached the button of Octavia's suit pants. Released the button, unzipped, Lyra climbed back up to meet Octavia, and her hands wandered underneath.
Octavia mimicked Lyra's hands, but they froze a few inches deep.
"Really? Not even panties?"
Lyra chuckled mischievously, and Octavia scoffed.
"You're a slut, you know that?"
"Oh, like you're one to talk, Miss Gangbang."
"Fuck you, I'll show—" Octavia tried, and failed miserably, to throw Lyra off-balance and topple her, but it was as if she was made of concrete.
"Fuck me? No, fuck you." Lyra dug two of her fingers, her index and middle, into the center of the damp panties, and the center of Octavia's pussy. Octavia shuddered, releasing a shaky moan, and idly humped at Lyra's fingers.
Lyra looked back at the boys and licked her lips. At some point in the show, they had discarded their pants and underwear—but not their shirts—into two piles on the floor, free to be at full mast without any obtrusion. And in seeing that they, with certainty, were not owners of dinghies, but of cruise liners, it put some wind in Lyra's sails.
First objective was to relieve Octavia and herself of pants. Lyra climbed off the bed, gripping and yanking on Octavia's trousers by the belt loops. It took some elbow grease, but soon they joined the black bra and shredded dress shirt on a side of the bed. Now on the bed were but black panties and an angel's face. Lyra leaned against the bed, raising her ass into the air as high as it would go, and glanced back at Brass and Sharp.
"Perhaps someone in the audience can help get these bothersome jeans off me." Her eyes met Brass's. "Sir, would you kindly?" She wiggled her ass a bit.
Brass hesitantly got up and strode over behind Lyra. She had taken on the look of a shy, innocent schoolgirl; biting her lower lip, hiding much of her face somehow by the bobbed green hair that usually framed it. Deciding it best to stick with the theme of their little show, Brass took hold of the jeans just below the back pockets and pulled slowly. First came Lyra's ass, round and jiggly, with no panties obscuring the view. As the pants lowered, Lyra leaned further down, and sure enough next was Lyra's womanhood, quivering, puffy, and sopping.
A stray moan broke the mood of the scene. Octavia, in Lyra's absence, had thrown away the panties and buried her middle finger knuckle-deep into herself, with her eyes screwed shut. Juices flowed onto Lyra's bedspread, causing the minty color to darken into a jungle green. Her thumb, on every invasion of her finger in her pussy, would massage a circle on her clit and her left hand played with her tits. Every other thrust, her left leg would quake violently.
"Couldn't even make it through the scene, could you?"
"Shut—mmph—up!"
Brass pulled the jeans free, leaving Lyra nude in front of him. She ignored him for a second to crawl toward Octavia, before returning to her character: "Thank you, sir. Please return to your seat." Brass obeyed, and Lyra grabbed Octavia's thrusting hand. She pulled it free from the clenching, aching vagina and sucked on the glazed finger while forcing Octavia's legs in the air, allowing her access. Wet labia met wetter labia; Octavia gasped and Lyra hummed around the finger. Lyra rocked her hips, their clits occasionally mashing together on an upswing to send crackles of lightning through their loins and spine. And every jolt spurned Lyra on more. She would rock faster, press their lips together harder, mutter obscenities, and throw her head back in a throaty moan.
Octavia just gripped the sheets and held on for dear life.
"The classy Canterlot bitch wants to cum, doesn't she?"
"Oh, fuck yes."
The rocking became more erratic. Sweat poured from their bodies. Breaths became shorter and rugged. Lyra leaned down and took her favorite of Octavia's breasts into her mouth, sucking on it tightly and leaving a faint hickey around the aureola.
Lyra raised her head forward a bit more and kissed Octavia, and it was then that they both came hard. Breasts thrashed and jiggled and the bed frame creaked in protest as their bodies shook. Jets of Octavia's juices sprayed against Lyra's pelvis or the open air. Their eyes rolled into the back of their heads.
They lay there, holding one another, twitching, lightly humping against the other and gasping at the touch of their raw and oversensitive pussies. When the orgasm finally passed, Lyra rolled off Octavia, breathing heavily.
"I don't...remember...doing that...before," Octavia huffed.
"Sorry, I kind of got caught up in the moment."
"Don't be. That was the best orgasm I've had doing this."
"Shall we move onto the second act then?" Lyra nodded toward the boys, who had been idly stroking themselves at the show. "It'll give us some rest before we try to take on the big boys." Without waiting for an answer, Lyra rolled onto her stomach and crawled to the foot of the bed. "Oh boys, we're ready for you~"
Brass and Sharp rose from their seats, stepping over to the women as they tossed off the last remaining article of clothing they had, their shirts.. Their dicks were as hard as diamond, throbbing, twitching, wanting, craving. Lyra took it as a badge of pride that they looked to be on a hair-trigger; it was the look of frustration someone, man or woman, has when they've been shaken like a bottle of champagne but the cork has yet to pop.
"I think I finally see some of the family resemblance," Lyra remarked, guiding a hand over Brass's length. It pulsed in need. It was twice the width of her hand with a girth that she could barely wrap her hand around fully; easily one of the biggest, and she took it as a challenge. She wrapped her hand around the base and slowly ran her tongue across the underside and over the head. A prick of bitterness hit her tongue. Brass hummed and slightly thrust his hips when the jolt of pleasure hit him. Lyra started pumping his shaft, rewarding grunts and mumbles with swirls of her tongue across the head of his dick. On a particular down thrust, Lyra popped the head inside of her mouth, suckling lightly on the tip.
"Damn, Lyra," Brass breathed, "I already feel like I'm going to explode."
The head left Lyra's mouth with a pop. "If you do before I say so, I'll kick your ass."
"Heh, ma'am, yes, ma'am."
Brass's dick reentered Lyra's moist, warm mouth to be played with by her experienced tongue. It would gingerly touch tips or paint along the length or encircle the head. But her tongue always wanted more to play with, so she would slide down Brass's shaft. After some time, Brass's dick touched the back of her throat. A growl crawled through Brass's throat.
Lyra pulled the dick from her mouth, strings of saliva clinging to the head and shaft. She looked up at Brass with an evil smile as she slowly stroked the base of his length. "I bet you want to fuck my throat, don't you? Feel my throat gagging on you before you let loose inside?"
"Yess," the man uttered lowly.
"See me choking on your cum as I desperately try to swallow it?" She took just his head into her mouth, slurping on it like a straw in a malt shake.
"Yeessssss."
"Well too bad. That's Tavi's thing." Lyra pointed back at Octavia on the other side of the bed. She was lying on her back, and Sharp towered over her, thrusting his dick into the woman's open mouth with reckless abandon. Her eyes were half-lidded, her mouth foamed, and her hand found itself between her legs once more. She moaned around his manhood when Sharp thrust forward, causing a clear outline of his head to distend from her throat.
"What I want," Lyra began, quickly stroking a small portion of the base of Brass's dick, "is for you to fuck me. To make me cum. To drill me into the sheets until I'm a drooling mess that passes out with this monster still thrusting into me. Think you're man enough for that?"
A grunt and a throb gave her a reply.
Lyra turned around in the small space between the mattress and Brass, bending over and presenting her wet pussy to Brass. A strand of her honey ran down the crease in her lips and down her right thigh.
Octavia took the initiative between herself and Sharp. She extracted the dick from her throat and mouth and wordlessly spun around, splaying her legs open to display her womanhood for Sharp, idly rubbing her clit. Octavia didn't say anything; it was obvious they were moving onto the third act, the main course.
Lyra bit her lip as she felt a pair of giant hands grab her waist. Soon after, something soaked and hot poked at her opening curiously. One of the hands left; Lyra looked back to see Brass grab himself. He went from poking to rubbing his length along her pussy. Lyra absentmindedly pressed back, trying to get to the beast to catch her inner lips. It never did.
"Brass, I'm going to bite your dick off if you don't put it in now," she threatened. Brass chuckled, lined up the shot, and plowed forward with a single stroke. His aim was true, hilting inside Lyra instantly. Lyra's legs almost gave out on her, and her eyes rolled into the back of her head. If he was half an inch bigger, she would've came on the spot.
"Fuuuuuuuck, big guy, watch it. You'll break someone doing that."
"Do you need a second?"
Lyra looked back him incredulously. "No, what do I look like? A pussy?"
"You look like one from here. Holy shit are you tight."
"I think that's all you. But really, you can start moving when you want."
Brass pulled out until little more than his head remained and thrust again, finding a steady, quick pattern. Lyra moaned, biting sheets as the beautiful man pistoned into and out of her. He had perfect rhythm and precision, hitting her spot over and over dead-on. Her jaw went slack and drool flowed from her mouth. She was so close.
Octavia wasn't fairing much better; missionary was always her preference, able to hold her lover, feel his breath on her neck, able to see how his hips become a seemingly motionless blur when he pounds into her roughly. Her breaths were short and timed with Sharp's movement; inhale on thrust, exhale on retreat.
A hand snapped from Lyra's hip to her head, grabbing a fistful of her short, disheveled hair and pulling. Lyra inhaled sharply as Brass pumped into her faster. Flesh striking flesh, sending ripples through Lyra's ass and thighs. Her breasts bounced wildly. Outside of the giant dick inside her, all was numb. It was like she was floating in the air, and if weren't for the muscular arm tethering her to the earth, she felt like she could drift away.
And then on a particular hard thrust, she crashed to the ground.
Lyra tried to moan, talk dirty, say anything coherent, but all that came out was a garbled mess of vowels and syllables. Her pussy spasm and clenched around Brass, attempting to coax an orgasm out of the man. Brass let go of Lyra's hair, and she fell limply into the mattress. Wetness sprayed Brass's groin, legs shook on either side of him, but he ignored all of that and kept going, leaning over Lyra's form with both hands planted beside her head. He drove into the seemingly unconscious woman adamantly with all of the strength he could muster in that moment. Groaning, Brass's balls tightened as he exploded inside of her.
Lyra gave a sign of life, humming as the warmth of the seed spread through her. Load after load shot into her, surely splattering against the deepest sanctum. Brass pushed into her a little deeper on every spurt before pulling out. A cascade of semen followed, soaking into the blankets, as Lyra's cunt was left gaping and squeezing on nothing. Brass distanced himself from her, admiring his handiwork.
Well, a drooling, unconscious mess was what she asked for, and that's what she got.
Brass's dick throbbed, having maintained the erection even after dumping into Lyra, and he looked at Lyra's ass. He was hoping for a second round with her, to see how tight she really was, but having her pass out thwarted those plans—despite his cock aching at the idea of following through with it anyway.
"Oh, yes, Sharp!"
Brass's eyes went to his half-brother and Octavia. The latter was being fucked face-first into a wall by a window on the right side of the room, a leg held up by Sharp's right arm as his other wrapped around her torso, groping a breast. Octavia looked like she was having a new orgasm every time Sharp moved inside her. Her mascara ran down her cheeks, and her perfectly groomed hair was soaked from sweat and stuck to her bare back and shoulders. She almost looked like a different person, not the Canterlot-born cellist, sipping red wine and chastising her friend for her antics. The curtain of sophistication had long ago been lifted to reveal a horny woman wanting to make her go cross-eyed as she's stuffed with a fat cock.
Looking back at Lyra, still motionless on the bed, Brass donned a grin. He stepped behind his brother and tapped him on his shoulder. Sharp looked back, and Brass wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. Sharp laughed under his breath. He spun Octavia around, causing the startled woman to squeak in surprise, and effortlessly hoisted her into his arms, never breaking his rhythm. His hands fell to hold her by her bottom, and just as she relaxed into Sharp's strong arms, Octavia's eyes widened as she felt something stiff and wet poke at her anus.
"Wha—"
"Such a wonderful ass you have. I couldn't take your friend for a ride, so I hope you don't mind if I take you for one." Brass wrapped his hands around the inside of Octavia's knees, holding her still as he gave a tentative prod at Octavia's asshole. A reluctant gasp. Brass grinned; he loved it when they were confused about it, when they couldn't admit that it felt amazing. A stronger prod this time forced his tip inside her, and it was met with a pained, guttural moan. Brass took this as affirmation to continue. His length slipped farther into her, Octavia eliciting more sounds telling she liked it and she didn't like that. When he reached halfway, she started clenching his length. A couple minutes passed, and Brass hilted himself into Octavia's ass. He stayed still, to let the inexperienced woman adjust, before he began thrusting alongside his brother, matching his rhythm.
Octavia squealed. She gasped. She even came a little on a particular thrust from both men. But she did not accept how wonderful it felt to be so full. She couldn't. She was a lady! Ladies do not insert objects, no matter how magical they may feel, into their ass! Ladies—
Another mind-blowing thrust. Her thoughts blanked for a second.
Oh, who was she kidding? Not twenty minutes ago, her best friend was roughly fucking her by mashing their pussies together. A lady surely would not do that, so she submitted to her fate and let herself go.
The brothers began to alternate their strokes while never easing up on the force behind each one. Every sound of sex filled the bedroom: grunts, moans, whines, shudders, the occasional breathless curse. With twice the work being done to her, it was no surprise that Octavia was soon finding herself at her peak. And as if knowingly, Brass and Sharp broke rhythm and pushed in balls-deep simultaneously, cumming. As the first ropes shot into her, Octavia's breath hitched as an orgasm ripped through her. Pussy juice splattered on Sharp, and it and her ass constricted around them, milking them for all they're worth, Octavia's fuzzy mind noting how warm and funny and good a load of semen felt inside her.
Octavia went limp in the men's arms and being laid on the bed beside Lyra was the last thing she felt before passing out.
* * *
Lyra was the first to awaken, and the first thing she noticed was the pitter-patter of rain against her window and how her room felt like a storage freezer. Shivering, she rolled over from her back to her right side, opening her eyes slightly. Black hair leading to a bare back and shapely hips basking in the dim, stormy gray light filled her vision. Memories of last night returned, and Lyra giggled to herself.
"Wooow..."
Octavia mumbled in her sleep and rolled to face Lyra, still asleep. A small smile crossed Lyra's features. Lying asleep naked, the full length of her body spread out, looking satisfied and peaceful; absolutely gorgeous. Her bed-head made her hair look like blackberry cotton candy, but as much as she would like to stay and relish the view, they had to get up.
Something then called her attention—where had Brass and Sharp gone? Did they just leave? Propping herself on an elbow, Lyra glanced over the edge of the bed. Their clothes were gone.
"Tavi, hey, Tavi," Lyra whispered, nudging Octavia's shoulder with a hand. The woman moaned drowsily and adjusted her head on the pillow she was on. Lyra poked harder. "Tavi, wake up."
Octavia's eyes finally opened. "Lyra...?"
"Hey, yeah. It's morning, so time to get up."
"Mmm, where's Sharp? I was hoping to wake up to him."
"Er," Lyra's head fell, her hair drooping over her eyes, "about that...they kind of ditched us."
"Oh." Silence. "I suppose a one-night-stand was what was implied last night."
"I'm sorry." Lyra softly patted one of Octavia's hands. "But it was a pretty mind-blowing night, huh?"
Octavia giggled. "Yeah, it was. Especially after you passed out."
"I didn't pass out! I—"
"Lyra, I heard you begging for it."
"Bah! Whatever, let's just get dr—"
The walls of the apartment shook as the front door slammed shut.
"Lyra, I'm home!"
"Shit! Hurry, get dressed!" Lyra whispered. She leapt out of bed and rushed to put her jeans on. Octavia followed suit, only with much more grace and patience. Lyra started scrambling around. "Where's my shirt—"
"Lyra Heartstrings!"
"...Oh, right, in the living room."
Stomping echoed throughout the apartment, and a heavy knocking erupted from the bedroom door, causing the women to jump. Lyra looked at Octavia, who shrugged. Lyra tiptoed over and cracked the door open just large enough for only her head to be shown. A slightly pudgy, red-faced woman with a few inches on Lyra stood in the doorway. In her hand she clutched a shirt.
"Uh, hey, Bonnie, thought you were supposed to be in Manehattan."
"I was," said Bon Bon, " Dimmy had a healthy baby girl bright and early yesterday. She and East insisted they could take care of things and that I come home. And of course I come home to this." Bon Bon held up the shirt. "You had 'guests,' didn't you?"
"Pssh...naw. I, uh, took a shower and threw it on the floor." A flat stare bore it's way into Lyra, and she sighed. "Yeah, I did. So what? I'm a big girl!"
"Hardly." Bon Bon tossed the shirt over to Lyra. "Did you at least keep the mess contained in your room?"
"Yeah, yeah, we went to my room after things...escalated."
"Good." Bon Bon's gaze pierced through Lyra. "And hello, Tavi."
"H-Hello, Bonnie," came a timid reply.
Bon Bon looked to Lyra. "Are they still here, or—" Lyra shook her head. "Good, then I only have to make lunch for the three of us." Bon Bon strode on to open kitchen, and Lyra closed the door.
"How did she know I was here?" Octavia asked curiously, sitting at the edge of Lyra's bed dressed in everything save for her heels. The ripped dress shirt lay in her arms, the jacket doing its job of covering her chest and stomach for decency's sake.
Lyra threw up the shirt and slid into it. "I don't know. Maybe your perfume? You do wear too much a lot."
Octavia scoffed. "I wear just enough, thank you."
The bedroom door flew open, and Bonnie poked her head in. "The walls are thin, you know. I can hear you two whisper if nothing else is going on." The head retreated and the door closed.
"Oh, that explains why I can only get laid when she's gone or at your place," Lyra said plainly.
"And you're welcome." Octavia slipped on her heels and stood. "Anyway, I think I'm going to head home, actually."
"What? But Bonnie's making us lunch."
"Yes, I'm sorry, but I desperately need a shower and a change of clothes." Octavia thrust the torn shirt into Lyra's arms and pulled her jacket tigher around her. "Because of you, I'm practically a strong breeze away from showing everyone the girls."
Lyra laughed. "You say that, but you and I both know Thelma and Louise love the attention."
"Be that as it may, I'd rather not risk it. Give those girls an inch..." Her heels clicked against the hardwood floor, pronounced in the silence between them, as Octavia made for the door.
"Tavi, I—" Lyra's words croaked in her throat. Octavia twirled around. "I..." A sigh. "I'll get you a new shirt later and bring it by today." Octavia nodded and left the room, and Lyra followed.
"Sorry, Bonnie, I'd like to stay for lunch, but I should be going home," Octavia said as she reached the apartment door.
Bon Bon glanced over her shoulder from setting the oven. "It's fine, Tavi. Take care!" Just as Octavia disappeared outside, Bon Bon looked at Lyra, shuffling awkwardly by the bedroom door, and shook her head. "Chicken..."
