Hurricane FlitterStorm

Cloudchaser immediately busied herself with raising the glass of ice water to her lips so Flitter couldn't see her smile.

“Seriously, Stormy. We do not have time - or several other factors I could mention - for this.”

“To make bits you've got to spend them, Flitter.”

“To spend them we've got to have them.”

Regardless of Flitter’s retort, the poster of blue etches in the shape of a high-roofed store before them did not vanish in a poof of logic. “And I said before – you don’t have to keep using that name for me, Flits.” Cloudchaser shot back, preening the tips of her frosty mane. “We’ve got a good thing going here.”

“Yes. Crashing. Into a ravine. To cheers from raving vaudeville film fans.” Flitter’s shift to the left – what with her leaning over the table in frustration and all - really presented the three dragonflies stamped on her flank to Cloudchaser’s very appreciative view. “I still don’t see why this isn’t concerning you.”

“Aw come one, Flits, I don’t get concerned. That’s what our minutes are for.” With a soft tap, a leather-bound book’s edge stopped home on Flitter’s left forehoof. “Have a looks-see, partner.” Cloudchaser’s forehooves settled back behind her spiky mane and the billowy velvet on the chair she was sitting on, the one point of luxury in the otherwise box-thick basement of their house.

Fighting down the urge to remind her ditzy, ever-scheming and mindbendingly perverted friend that she’d written the minutes, Flitter tapped a hoof on the lip of the table that she leaned on hard enough that the vibration sprang open the ledger. “April 1st: First made the offer to Stormwalker about having a store in Ponyville, to have something to offer other than water-movement and fancy smiles. Was originally asked if this was an April Foals Joke, then laughed at so hard I wondered why I bothered telling her anything.”

“To be interrupted five minutes later by ‘Stormwalker’ giving her a thirty-minute refresher on just why you love saying so much to me,” Stormwalker’s leering grin was so wide now, Flitter was surprised it didn’t pierce a storage box. “Over two kitchen counters and the TV.”

And there it was. “Look, Stormy-”

“Oh come on, again with that name! Not that I don’t like it coming from your lips, but-”

“It’s your actual one! You only called yourself ‘Cloudchaser’ because the other ‘Cloudchaser’ liked hearing it when you had sex!” Flitter’s hoof slapped down over her forehead at ~~Cloudchaser~~ Stormwalker’s sassy retort. “Or… any time, really.” Returning attention back to the ledger’s recording, Flitter sighed heavily. She needed a break and it was only 11 in the morning. Perhaps she should put a note of that new record into the minutes.

“April 3rd: Stormy came to me to talk about how to possibly make that store in the original spot where Noodle Fan was. Got surprised she was so enthusiastic about this. Realized where her eyes were locked on and the surprise was gone.”

“Right, I forgot: sorry about pouncing on you mid-writing. I know how much you appreciate your hoofwork.” Stormwalker’s heartfelt apology got Flitter’s eyes to focus on her for the first time. “And…well, also for not freaking out over Little Cloudchaser.”

Tapping the large sign propped on the table next to them, Flitter smiled warmly. “Thank you,” she responded. “And also thank you for keeping the hickeys the night after to a place where nopony could see. Even if your work in the sound department left much to be desired.” Namely, by Lucky Clover and Wild Fire at three in the night, who’d burst in thinking Flitter’s howls were her death throes. The answer for their intervention was confirmation that Flitter was not dying, that her lungs were far more durable than anypony her size had a right to be, and - oh yeah - an eyeful of Stormwalker’s tongue tangoing madly in Fllitter’s folds.

“’Much to be desired’? Compliment and challenge accepted, Flitter.” The creaks as Stormwalker plodded onto the table had Flitter’s ears bristling at the implication. “After all…” And one of her blue hooves traced out the sinful dip of taut skin and fur down her barrel, stopping when it came to another, puffier cleft between her legs. “I know what gets your wings aflutter too.”

Flitter blushed as red as her hairbow at the implication. Fighting down her wings from stiffening at full mast, she barked at her best friend again. “Stormwalker! We’re in a recall of the minutes! And do you not remember what happened with the rolled-up blueprints last time?!”

“Which is why this version of the map is laminated now.” Stormwalker’s matter-of-fact response fell from her pouting lips like the very fact they needed to waterproof their blueprints was somehow not a big deal. “Continue.“

“Well – ah!– to the 6th day then: Finally decided on a name – Debon-Mares’ Prada , since our latest acquisition of rich fabric from the house we moved into could probably work well as a product to other fashion stores and shops – damn it, Stormy – without too much work on our part.” Ironically, the work Stormwalker was doing at this juncture was causing the interruptions. The first came from the dragonflies imprinted on Flitter’s left asscheek jiggling as Stormy’s hoof swatted them. The second stutter formed when the hooves of the Persian blue pegasus massaged against the Stormy-proclaimed ‘second sweet spot’ of Flitter – the divot of skin just above her dock, chair wobbling dangerously as Flitter shuddered.

Speaking of cheeky, the grin Stormy shot at Flitter as she shivered in her seat had enough of it to rival her own glutes. “Am I being a distraction now?” Well, a studious pony could get the answer to that question on the next page – if the shifting of Stormwalker’s long thighs to lecherously squeeze out crystalline cargo from her pussy wasn’t stealing one’s gaze like it did Flitter’s.

“I can guess when your eyes shut off, Stormy, but I won’t believe your ears did.” Stormwalker only took another long pull from the mug of cool water next to her. The other forehoof re-attended to another trickle of liquid seeping from Stormwalker. One light push of smooth keratin an inch above her folds and the “Ahhh….” the Persian blue pegasus let out barely a foot from her ear was over far more than her refreshment, labia parting ever so teasingly as her eyes fluttered shut.

Idly eying her own glass of water, its melted ice cubes raising the liquid to overflowing minutes ago, Flitter downed half of it in one gulp. Refocused, her eyes swung to the ledger, yanking it from under Stormwalker’s elbow and slamming it shut. “There. Done. And we still have addressed none of these pressing issues.”

Stormwalker eyed her glass of water, damp stains dusting the expanse it had sullied from within the cradle of her upturned hoof. “That’s cheating,” Stormwalker said, hoof at her nethers now pointing accusingly at Flitter’s glass.

Flitter ‘s eyes’ shot open. “Y-you could actually see that?!” Stormy’s eyes were shut the whole time, how did anything besides sperm and salted ice cream heighten her awareness so?!

“No changing the subject.” Stormwalker tut-tutted, rolling onto her belly again and now at the edge of the table. ”Naughty naughty, you’ve been caughty.”

“Hello kettle, meet pot, phoned in to tell you that you’re black,” Flitter murmured.

“Already called back to tell ‘em by the end of this week, we’ll both be in the black.” One hind leg crossed over the other as Stormwalker studied her pegasus friend. “Think there’s one more statement in there? Something about our inventory.”

The book opened again between Flitter’s hooves. “Fine, Stormy. 8th Day: We have little money after buying the Noodle store and sign, no insurance, and need to turn product after a month or else we lose it. The locale’s been abandoned for good reason. Half of the pipes are eroded and the place leaks like a sieve whenever a light drizzle hits. So unless we make a good first impression on everypony or find a long-lost inheritance, ‘Debon-Mares’ Prada’ might be over befoooooohwhathefuck?!”

“Sorry, seem to have misplaced my drink, ma’am. May I have another?” Stormwalker’s statement was in the form of a question that contradicted heavily with how her hoof was pushing toward the gusher at Flitter’s legs like no tomorrow. The way Flitter’s heart was beating, however, that could possibly ring true in a few moments. How could a limb with no points still feel like an arrow when flicking and scraping against her nub? The attack left Flitter short of breath, and that was no place to be versus the tireless pegasus.

“Mmhmm. So what was that? That a pony wouldn't love something luxurious to wrap around them?” Seriously, this was hard velvet, thought Flitter, would anypony let me know how she could dig so deep between it and her to push at my folds?! “To have cling to their body… “ Her hooves went to work on the sliver of a slit visible beneath the chair as Flitter whispered her name. “To mop up their succulent juices whenever a choice cut of cock passes by? Because Rarity would disagree. You’re more disagreeable than an Element now, Flits?”

“Gggh, no more…” Flitter was not even trying to respond to the troubling numbers. Her hips lifted at last, but the stress of keeping back that primal urge to plow Stormwalker through the table groin first held strong. Just a few minutes of Stormy’s hoof dragging across the length of her lower lips, slipping in, swirling around like it was…. “Damn it!” Stormwalker was halfway in her now, the hooves bending out her winner walls like taffy as her legs followed a more gelatinous sweet in their buckling. “Isn’t gonna – fuck, yes – make our wreck of a store any less a wreck!”

“Those are what we call ‘repairpony problems’, Flits.” The curt tone of Stormwalker settled Flitter’s heart. “Ours lie elsewhere, and you’re not in the right headspace to hear it. So let’s clear the air together.” Like Tartarus the air would be clean, Flitter refused to moan into Stormy’s ear. All that plagued – intoxicated, more like - Flitter’s nostrils was the rush of Stormy’s drenched forelimb and the squelching of her cunny as it melted over her ministrations.

“Now we can talk about your problems with assertion until Luna’s next thousandth birthday, or you can give her sister something to relieve herself over today, and beg me to let you leak.” After a cruel twist of her hooves that sent Flitter’s body into convulsive fits and her mind to the future goal of finding the exact anti-torture law that move violated, Stormwalker stopped her hooves’ gyrations abruptly. The gift of Flitter was still dripping into the cushion in small spurts, the Persian blue pegasus’s intrusion keeping most of it in.

A pity it would also keep in Flitter’s begging, too. “H-how about no? T-that suit you well?”

“Let’s consult the panel.” And like a washing machine’s agitator, Stormy’s hoof twisted counter-clockwise. Sparkling glee rushed over polished keratin in fresh rivers. The Stormwalker spin cycle was stalled again, though, so Flitter quickly started a pattern of her own – defiantly corkscrewing herself on the impaled limb. She needed no help in tallying or reaching climax – then or now! And her pussy appreciated the act, freeing more of her fluid to pool in the crook of Stormy’s hoof.

Snapping her eyes open, two pools of glittering fuchsia drew her in. Well, that was a second of life Flitter would have liked to not have pushed away from her. Damnit, she thought that they were done with this after their romp over La Ti Da’s- “F-fuck me!” And that was the moment of Flitter she wished she’d forget, as a traitorous call tore from her throat the second Stormy scowled and pushed herself fully into her darker-coated friend.

Her mental reprieve came when Stormy's tongue happily lapped away any curses she could level at herself, twisting in her mouth much like Stormy had her drooling divide. Shit, it wasn’t like she was gonna bury herself in the ground (or Stormy’s Little Cloudchaser) for the first time twice. “F-fine. I n-need you. I-I always have… “ No no NO! Stormy was pulling out, what more did she want from her? Tch, like Flitter didn’t know the answer. Time to pull in a chair for that humble creampie, then. “Now rut me like the fucking smugass you are!”

“Thank you, Flitter. That’s a wonderful breakthrough.” That the same smirk returned to grace Stormy’s maw when she craned her head forward and bopped noses with Flitter finally revealed what her earlier retreat from her ravaged cunt was: preparation. Holy hell, Flitter was going to be committed today, if the orderlies could pry her out of the chair first. ”Time I followed suit.”

After Flitter recovered from her electrifying high, she’d had to make a mental note to get Twilight to look into whether Stormwalker had ESP. She’d tried to scream out a complaint, but that vanished into a rumbling shriek she didn’t know she could even emit.

Also, screw it, Bulk Fucking Biceps would snap a forearm failing to separate her meat-grinding loins form Stormy’s oscillating hoof. Stormy was in way too many and not enough places all at once now. Hot breath wafted into Flitter’s ear as if from a Sugarcube oven as Stormy’s mimicry of her own fucking floated down Flitter’s ear canal. But such delving was impossible due to Stormy’s right hoof, busy with crushing her nape and head into Stormy’s heaving shoulder. A foot lower, and the perverted pegasus was plunging against her wild heartbeat as her tongue mapped locations for her teeth to mould out. Her collarbone was soon awash with inky black marks.

Then there was Stormy’s wild scent, still rich with blueberries and sharp rain and ozone and… “F-fuck, harder,” Alas, Flitter’s flooding folds were blocking out that last particular smell of Stormwalker. If Stormwalker cared, Flitter couldn’t hear it. Unless somepony counted the vicious ramming of her hoof into her, creaking out the chair in a dangerous bend as Flitter’s glorious glutes pushed back against every ratting rush.

Flitter had to grab the front legs of the chair with her forearms, dark Persian blue fur flattening against the unyielding wood. Stormy’s arms wrapped over her barrel to guarantee Flitter wouldn’t be fighting both a concussion and her voice box from her motions. At this angle, her engorged plot was fully visible to Stormwalker’s greedy eyes. No need for a flagged tail either, with it now draped across the top of the chair’s high back. And yet, the scope hadn’t been invented that could register the size of the solitary fuck Flitter gave about this.

The ponut was not Stormy's target, however. Those orgasm-slick folds were treated to a double helping of two unforgiving, unyielding Stormwalker hooves, pressing her twitching hips and back legs so deeply into the arms of the seat that Flitter stood no risk of moving an inch further down. With the wet sloshing of Stormwalker’s furious fucking, vertigo itself refused to register for the bow-wearing (and bow-legged) pegasus. That and every word in their language that didn’t start with ‘f’ or ‘s’.

“Fucking-! Faster, Stormy!” Case in point.

But this time, Stormwalker seemed to want to take her time scaling Mt. St. Flitter. Though both her front hooves returned to twisting out screams from the pegasus bent below her, her motions were not fucking her senseless. And in Flitter’s current position, she had no leverage to make Stormwalker do so. Such a lack of options and mercy should have sent her into a rage. But Flitter didn’t want rage, she wanted rutting. Her rear legs widened in a silent plea for more until her rear hooves were about to slip off the arms of the chair she was wound around. Flitter swore she could hear Stormwalker whistle at her spasming channel.

And then Stormy showed just why she’d held back. The second Flitter was ready to hit her peak again – the tightening of muscles around her legs and Stormy’s an early-alert system - both of Stormy’s hooves pushed out of her cunt with a final lecherous squishing. A roar that would have sent a hydra racing for the hills rang around the walls of their basement. Stormwalker didn't even skip a beat, taking one of Flitter’s forehooves off the chair and laid one soft kiss at its curved tip of keratin. Then, Stormwalker hooked it tightly around the nape of her neck. Right back into Flitter went Stormwalker’s hooves, her new repositioning of the green-maned pegasus allowing her savage thrust to finally hit her G-spot like paydirt.

Nevermind the hills, Filter’s next guttural yell would have sent that hydra racing for the relative safety of a volcano. If the green-maned pegasus’ world could shrink any further, those two points of keratin splitting her and that panting mouth a sliver of table away was. Her pussy squashed, squirted, shuddered over Stormwalker’s arms, powering them in and out of her only scant seconds behind her pumping. And that face above her, lidded eyes and frosted locks weighted down by sweat and desire, made the entire scene mirror her filthiest dreams.

On the subject of that latent ESP that Flitter had so envied before, her lack of a need to tell Stormwalker where to strike in order to make her squirm and squeal was something her voice box thanked her for. Or would, if Flitter’s screams weren’t threatening to rip them to shreds anyway. However, her lungs held strong against the onslaught from both panting pegasi, her screams becoming more unintelligible as Flitter sought her end. And her howls didn’t drown out Stormy enough to keep her from hearing, “Cum for me, my sexy co-owner,” followed by the dip of the Persian blue pegasus’ tongue right into that spot above her port.

Escape velocity hit like a rainboom. And in that moment of ultimate ecstasy, Flitter’s new habit following the Clover/Fire event came surging forth. She eeped, a sound low and sharp like a rainbow-screened TV, as her velvety walls turned to iron. Locking in around Stormwalker’s glorious hooves, Flitter’s quaking pussy performed her namesake with the waterfall of marecum rushing through them. Critical breach was inevitable this time, and her juices fizzled out to vividly darken the fabric around her seat as her ass settled back into the chair. Each jet, each spurt brought it closer and closer to the edge of the seat. Despite herself, despite her inner pony bashing arms against her cage at this final indignity, Flitter’s mouth creaked open in anticipation.

As the tidal event ebbed, Stormwalker leaned down off of the table and pursed her lips tight against Flitter’s soaked catch, a lewd slurp nearly rolling the green-pared pegasus’ eyes into her skull. Then Stormwalker’s hooves tightened over her barrel and brought her upright, ragged rasps of breath escaping her as she eased into the chair. A sharp intake of breath followed from the frosty-maned pegasus as she nursed the climax in her mouth like liquor. “Sooooo,” she said in a drawl that showed the bubbling bounty between her lips before it shot down her throat in one gulp like cider. “Have I proved my point now?”

“C-certainly not!” Flitter’s retorted hoarsely. Her hips were now lifting, one after the other, as she opened the ledger again. How had it stayed on the table, after-?! ”And I have no idea why we have this around if every concern I bring up dies in a flood of-”

“Well, that’s the problem I’m seeing now.” All-Business Stormwalker was back in vogue apparently, as her gaze turned razor sharp and her hoof pointed to Flitter. “You’re either too tightly wound up or ready to burst apart at a moment’s notice. Have been since we thought of this, mind.” A cautious grin graced her face again. “And cute as it is, buttons that easy to push aren’t just good for me in any shady corner we can reach. They’re also good for every competitor, seller and swindler in Equestria to use to fleece you senseless.”

“Don’t be silly,” growled Flitter. Her bow was still askew from the earthshattering event two minutes prior, but she made no move to adjust it – or herself – in their uncomfortable positions. Her battered pride was still standing. “I’m being practical. Besides, Ponyville doesn’t attract frauds-”

“Trixie? Flim-Flam? Everything about Filthy Rich?”

Nopony whose tongue had gone the places that Stormwalker did should have been that quick on it. Flitter was sure of this, and yet the corners of her mouth rose not in masked disbelief, but sly satisfaction. Sorry Ponyville; find another pegasus who can out-wit you with a mouth still washed with Flitter’s sperm. This one is taken. “I think I have enough to handle them otherwise.”

“You might. But I’d rather you make this a non-factor. Because right now you’re either super-reserved, and I have to break you out of it… or you’re not, and then that voice of yours breaks me.” Stormwalker’s smile hitched a bit higher. “And I’ll be happy to show you just how that habit of yours manifests. We’re heading back to La Ti Da tomorrow; gotta both get you in your right mind and promote our store. Win my little wager, and I’ll step off as the P.R. Head of this store we’ve got – you can run Debon-Mares’ Prada how you want. I’ll even take you wherever you want to celebrate. My treat.”

“Among others you’ve shown, I’m sure.” Flitter tried to ease her tangled green locks back into normal, an increasingly futile task. “And if you win?”

“Then we leave the spa with no fuss and I stay on being the voice of the spa. I’m not enough of a freak to try and ravage you on a table there.” Finally, thought Flitter, some limit of Stormwalker revealing itself! But as Stormwalker lifted herself off the sweat-slicked table and rolled up their plans for the store, a wild smile finally took full form. “Oh yes, how silly of me to forget, Flits! The second that front door closes, I get out Little Cloudchaser and reacquaint it with every one of your tight holes on the Spa’s roof, again.”

Luna. Fuck her. With the sharpest end of the crescent moon!

But Flitter needed to prove something, and if given enough of a condition, she could without worry. “One condition, Stormy.”

“Name it, Flits.” Stormwalker tucked the roll of laminated parchment under one of her wings.

“No contact with me this time in the Spa. In fact, the first of us to do so outside of an emergency loses immediately.”

“’Outside of an emergency’.” Stormwalker flicked the door open. “Wow, you are learning from April Foals.”

Before Flitter could shoot back a proper rebuttal – likely about the chain of events leading to the April Foals’ event and how little what either of them was doing qualified as an ‘emergency’ - Stormwalker’s tail shot out, caught the basement’s door handle and drew it toward her. The process was long enough to give Flitter every second to lose herself in the still winking folds of her fellow pegasus’ lower lips.

“A pity all the prep in the Crystal Empire can’t save you.” And suddenly, Flitter was trapped within her shock-still body, her treacherous thoughts, and that maddeningly persistent scent of blueberries.

Stormwalker immediately busied herself with shutting the last few inches between threshold and door so Flitter couldn't see her smile.