It Was a Hot and Stormy Day
“This day is such a scorcher, isn’t it, Miss Flare?”
Indeed it was, and not just for the sun in the cloud-bare sky that either sickness, loss, or Discord must have made Celestia bring to its sweltering summit today. But Stormy, next to the chatty Coloratura, didn’t sweat a drop. Being a mother to the Wonderbolt leader Spitfire - and a graduate of that same Academy itself - taught her how to survive heated situations. Unfortunately, it just as often took her away from Spitfire, for signings and interviews.
She was a celebrity’s parent, after all.
Alas, her wonderful daughter was going places, but Stormy Flare was so often missing out. Today was different, however. She’d bought tour tickets, committed the Wonderbolts schedule to memory, even brought out her best suit. Stormy wouldn’t miss her daughter’s performance in Manehattan for the world. Even if she had to go 20,000 feet above ground to see it up-close.
“I don’t feel a thing,” she lied. Even now, the vivid heat of the sun blazed across the Lavender Spirit’s bridge, baking her furry hide through the suit. However, her position - right behind the sun’s rays - kept anypony from discovering the lie. Soon, however, they might be tripped off by the ozone-y smell. Especially if her supply of spiced raspberry perfume ran out.
Another puff of the cosmetic masked the sprinkles of sweat on her neck from Countess Coloratura’s view. ”I do so hope your time here is for a good purpose.”
“It is - this tour should take us past the Crystaller Building and the new park,” replied Stormy.
From her far more appropriate ensemble of a clear veil and a short indigo sundress, Coloratura lightly giggled. “Well, it seems you have the sights in mind!” Her look rolled back to the buildings slowly edging past their vision. “At least you don't need to make a stopover on Saddle Row.”
Stormy didn’t ask why. The sun wasn’t the only life-giving symbol in intense heat today, far from it. Half of neighboring Ponyville and Filydelphia were at that aforementioned street, stocking up on every Estrus-blocking cream and spray they could grab. After all, a smart, punctual pony couldn’t risk being in the mood during a chance encounter with someone they knew. Or the ponies attending to them in the store. Or the next available stallion who bumped into them in a busy line.
Stormy Flare was not a smart punctual pony right now. Apparently, she thought, all my good sense petered out between the last schedule check and the time I stepped in line. Because her thighs were cramped together, trying to keep the soaking loins between them from giving away her folly.
“Oh, how I hope the Wonderbolts won’t be too close to us today." tittered Coloratura. "They’re quite a sight for sore eyes, but I can not risk this suit getting smudged by their crazy loops.”
Ah yes, the real reason for being here. Not the Countess of course, though she had played a pivotal role in getting her tickets on the otherwise overloaded voyage of the Lavender Spirit. It had taken four calls though, a thing she'd noticed several of her Cloudsdale friends say was an increasingly common constant for the pop idol. Stormy had wondered if she could loosen up, and what it’d take for that to even be possible.
She suddenly found herself wishing for that breeze, to both cool her down and take Coloratura up on that jinx of a wardrobe malfunction. Definitely not because it might get her a peek up that teasing skirt. Or that Coloratura might be embarrassed enough to ask for help holding the frills of that outfit down. Or that Stormy's breaths on her faintly-concealed cunt might get her in the mood for other forms of relief...
“Well, I happen to think they’ll have the good space to leave enough alone,” Stormy shot back, looking to the side in an attempt to keep her libido from achieving liftoff. Her golden coat did not share in the attempt to deflect, rippling with the strain and pulling her damp clothes tighter against her ample body.
“Is that a fact, Ms. Spitfire?” There it was again, another of the decidedly un-appealing traits of Coloratura as of recent. Apparently she’d taken this request of Stormy’s to mean she was somehow dependent (Dependent?! Her?!) on her daughter’s name to move and shake. Even if her frame wasn’t doing just that, in response to both the heat and the rippling motion of the rays and that of Coloratura’s full lips, the matron would not let that insult go unanswered.
“It most certainly is, Miss Trenderhoof,” Stormy grinned lightly at the angry blush that rocketed back against the diva’s face. “If you're looking for something that will take your breath away-”
KA-BLAM!
-then look no further than the sudden explosion that got both mares screaming. One of the ballonets high above their heads had caught fire, raining embers upon them. The crowd below them was faring little better screaming and galloping away from the disaster erupting around their heads.
Thankfully, if there was anypony ready to spring into action, it was Spitfire's Wonderbolts, now barreling towards them at breakneck speed. “Oh shit, this ship’s about to crash!” yelled Coloratura, not a flailing wreck as her dress and veil were flying about her form.
Stormy managed to settle her down, though it probably could have taken a slap or five fewer to Coloratura’s face to do so. “Move to the left edge of the ship - the ‘Bolts should be able to catch you!”
Indeed, those seven Wonderbolts were speeding toward the sinking skyship. Spitfire was first, and she almost dropped out of the sky from a cardiac upon seeing her mother there. Stormy hadn’t even told her that she’d be present! There was irony in Stormy Flare, a pegasus, being saved from an airship that could have gotten her laughing in a less frantic time. The careening bridge they were on, however, was the exact opposite of a ‘less frantic time.’
“Here, Mom! I’ll escort you off!” Spitfire yelled as she finally closed in on her.
Stormy refused. “See the other passengers off safely! I’ll keep this ship from crashing!” Spitfire agreed. Truth was, the reason Stormy knew of such aviation techniques was a bit… unorthodox. But there were pilots below deck; they’d know how to land it. Plan B would only go through if…
“Oh, my…” And as she crossed the final door into the pilot's cabin, that Plan A was up in smoke. Apparently, the eruption of the balloon and listing of the ship had hit the pilots hard too. They were limp in their chairs, bruised heads resting against bent metal. She was the only conscious pony in this room. And the trip down had re-sparked her estrus again as her flanks banked against tilted walls and stretched her wings on hairpin turns in the halls. The nerves that would normally point her the way out were frying under sensual sparks.
Then Spitfire, Surprise, and Soarin rushed into the cabin, a gaggle of blue nylon and widened irises. They’d been of a similar mind as Stormy was, and Suprise’s hooves rushed to her blonde mane upon seeing the wrinkle in their plan. Soarin froze upon seeing Stormy, whose pupils widened a little on seeing the strapping stallion.
But Spitfire’s mind was on the mission only.
“Surprise! get them out, and look for spare pilots!” Authoritative as her mother, too! Stormy couldn’t help but glow with pride. That and other things, as her eyes scanned over Spitfire’s taut form as she helped Surprise. With the two pilot ponies draped just over her spread white wings so as not to obstruct them, Suprise nodded at them.
Stormy’s eyes returned to observe Spitfire’s scanning of twenty-foot room for any other firefighting tools. They also witnessed her suit stretch snugly over the edge of her folds as she studied the controls helplessly. “I-I don’t think I can fly this!” Spitfire wailed.
This hot flash was getting hedonic now; the orange-haired pony she was ogling was her daughter! Her mind helpfully added that she was also her flight-tech inexperienced daughter, and that her dogged focus on rescue could help her fulfill this… unique plan. Her lust-assaulted brain then demanded a redefining of the word ‘helpfully’.
But that brain was losing this battle; Stormy knew the score. Surprise would try her damnedest to find an upright pilot, but this craft stood in danger of falling on quite a lot of ponies now. And only she knew how the dashboard worked from her time as a backup pilot. She’d have to look into why she was so alone in this regard after they were not in danger of being ash-heaps on asphalt.
“Soarin, get the extinguisher and handle the fires with the other Wonderbolts!” roared a voice. The second his blue fringe disappeared around the door’s threshold, Spitfire realized the order had come down from the wrong gold pegasus.
“Wait, Mom! I was going to say he could-!”
“He can’t, there’s no time!!“ Stormy swallowed down the lump in her throat, the heat in her racing heart sending the reverberations straight down to her sodden depths. It was showtime! “I know how controls like these work!”
“Nice! Tell me how and I’ll see to landing this; we’re 15,000 feet and falling!” Spitfire’s attempt to lunge for the controls was held back by a purple polyester-covered foreleg.
“This board requires two ponies to work in tandem! And I… I’m gonna need to reposition to hit the right ones!” Stormy’s gaze shifted over. Perfect! It was the same as in her youth; they could steer the ship manually! Only one thing left to do. “We’ll work them together till Soarin returns!”
Spitfire nodded. Her jaw worked around the curves of her mask as she stole one last look at the backdoor. “Right, let’s get you…”
Spitfire was certain smoke inhalation had gotten to her when her amber eyes turned back to Stormy Flare. Her mother, the composed no-nonsense pillar in her life, was busily sprawl-eagling herself onto the unmanaged panels. Metal caps and switches shifted around her hooves as she moved into a position that looked quite uncomfortable. Though that might be too hasty a guess, judging by the state of her nethers as she swiveled her dark violet skirt around so the high cut in it was right over it.
Not a scrap of clothing below the skirt protected her dripping clit from Spitfire’s view. “Mom, what are you doing!?”
“Saving the ship!” Stormy retorted. Her hips twitched with her precise balancing act above the altitude lever. The fact that she was panting as her amorous aura started seeping from her pores. “I remember how I landed a ship like this before; we don’t have much time!”
“W-what does this have to do with it?”
Not even the shades on Stormy’s flushed face could hide how her eyes cut into Spitfire’s. “It happened while I was a co-pilot onthe Lilac Sky. My co-pilot… was one of the best multitaskers Equestria knew. A zebra.” One of her hooves lazily dipped to her labia, blushing at the thought of the zebra. “And he did while giving me the best time of my life - besides seeing you in my arms.”
Spitfire paled. “A normal pony could have said that without salivating! And please don’t tell me I was born to-”
“The answer is no! And if we don’t work together now, it’ll be ‘oh Luna I’m on fire’!” Stormy shot back, “We landed it making love on a board like this. Now come… closer.”
Spitfire's freakout abated a little at this - and also at the pungent air. Certainly, she wasn’t the most forthcoming with this part of her legacy, but… this was amazing! Spitfire knew how disarming the throes of passion could be, and Stormy channeled it into mechanical prowess! What Stormy proposed was a crazy way to save lives, but if it could… “How did you do it?”
“By making me come with his touch.” Stormy’s words came as purr. “As you will have to…”
Spitfire was rapt at attention. Despite this rescue mission’s trip into the end of a bad Dear Playmare letter, her mother seemed to have a method to her madness.Insane as it felt, Stormy was a plan-obsessive pegasus; she wouldn’t waste time with this in the middle of a crisis without there being a damn good reason. Her tone was still crisp, her eyes still penetrating, her hoof swirling at her swollen clit.
So Spitfire swallowed her pride - and a mouthful of Stormy’s rich red-spiced scent - and dove into the folds before her.
The first whiff of Stormy's lower lips gave Spitfire another reason to worry. “Y-you’re in heat…” she whispered. She was hooked, though, the scent utterly intoxicating at her current range. It was also causing her nylon suit to stick lecherously to her own pussy. Suddenly this task was a lot more tantalizing, her mind tunneling in lust.
It can work. Mom still knows what she’s doing. Her thoughts blanked out for a second as her tongue pressed to the clit hood. Stormy’s legs shook on the chair arms, a rush of hot juices soaking Spitfire’s mouth.
“It’s... oh… coming back now, yes...” The tilt of Spitfire’s head at this ground the pads of her tongue against drenched lips, spreading them. Her action drew out another Stormy purr - and the first of her rapturous revelations. “G-got it! Those two levers to the side of me - pull them up slow.”
Spitfire raised a golden hoof to the levers, the metal switches relenting. Stormy was just as busy. Her left forehoof pushed at the patch of fur above her lips, opening her flower further. Spitfires tongue pushed into soft folds, and was rewarded with a new rush of crystalline cuntsap, as sweet on her taste-buds as Stormy’s heated scent was tangy on her nostrils.
Above her, Stormy’s exhalations turned deeper. “Lick h-aaa-rder, I need to know~!”
Her raised position on the listing panel got her legs sliding, heaving herself harder and harder against her daughter’s talented mouth. Stormy had to ask how that got into her lexicon; was she experimenting in the Academy while she didn’t notice? The second and third pads from the bottom were soon depressed under Stormy’s left forehoof as Spitfire feasted on her nethers again. Ironically, Spitfire’s brain - and cum-sodden thighs - were the only things in that room working on autopilot now.
“Closer…so close...” A shudder ran through Spitfire's body at her mother‘s command. Ever since, one of the few things that’d got Spitfire riled. She’d never been able to resist her orders, well-shown at one time when she’d belted out an order for the tardy Captain to lay across her lap. Her wings acted as surrogate hands, pointing sharply to her lap, and the shivering Spitfire had complied. It was then that Spitfire realized why the female Wonderbolt uniforms had a zip down the pelvis - and how many slaps the crooks of her wings took to lash her rump red.
And again, she was in the same state she’d been on that day; panting wetly, her ass twitching. Her forelegs were freer than last moment, pushing the legs behind Stormy’s hilted skirt further apart. The rough movement sent an alluring buzz through Stormy’s sides, her forearms running through her hair in lustrous bliss.
Then, her sparked synapses spurred by her memory finally came through. Like that time, her hands shot up to a plunger-like cap high above the dashboard. Yanking it down, the Lavender Spirit shuddered. Then, the flaps at the ship’s side-sails spread to catch the wind and pulled it away from the scattering crowd.
The ship’s altitude was still at a downward pitch, though-and at 9,000 feet, they were at risk of clipping the buildings blurring past it.
Thundering hoofsteps then echoed through the open door. Before Stormy’s eyes could settle back on that doorway - or Spitfire's cunt-clamping head could turn - Soarin burst back into the room. The fire extinguisher was swinging in his grasp, his hooves and eyes locked on the metal clasp to try and operate it. But the black barrel only spat out a weak spurt of air.
“The extinguisher isn’t working!” he wheezed. “You’re dry, Spitfire-! Whoa!” Spitfire couldn’t count the ways that his last statement was wrong, but her thighs decided showing beat telling. They clamped together as he stammered, eyes locked on her eating out the shivering Stormy.
Worse yet, her attempt to explain her debauched position to Soarin ended up dragging her hooves and mouth against the curves of her pussy and teats. Well, worse for one of the two yellow pegasi, anyway. Stormy moaned shamelessly at the vibrations running through her. “Perfect, Spit-oh, yes! Oh! Hit b-both levers above you, they’ll straighten - mmph - the craft!”
Quickly, two nylon-covered hooves pushed at the curved slopes of metal above, the levers shifting as the Lavender Spirit sped up. Stormy slipped to a lower position on the control panels, panting from exhaustion and arousal.
But for Spitfire, her rejoinder that they were back on track ended in a wet splutter as her mouth was jammed full of Stormy’s folds. It was more than enough to drive Stormy into climax, her lower jaw sucked into her muzzle as she whinnied in bliss. The many dial-like meters on the board surrounding her were coated in shimmering marecum, buttery sweetness lathering Spitfire’s maw.
The afterglow only lasted several seconds before Stormy’s hips stopped twitching. Her body was still longing for more, though. Lifting her mature body up on one elbow, Stormy’s other foreleg arched to look at her watch.
This action also shoved her daughter’s face further into her folds with a lewd squish. Save for her eyelash-fluttering shudder, both of their minds were on other matters. Stormy’s, especially.
“Are we at proper altitude?” she panted.
Soarin gasped as Stormy looked between both devices. “W-wait! What was all that you did with Sp-”
“It’s what she’s doing for me, dear Soarin,” Stormy pulled herself up on her foreleg. “It’s great that you’re here; I need somepony like you to remember the landing gear functions.”
“We’re-we’re landing this ship? And…” A small piece of the puzzle fit inside his frazzled mind. “You’re sure you need me, ma’am?” Soarin’ didn’t know whether to bolt towards Spitfire, or away from Stormy. Seeing Spitfire pull at the knobs around her writhing mother drew his curiosity and broke the tie.
“Absolutely, Wonder Boy - my head pilot and I did this when we landed the Silver Sky,” drawled Stormy.
“Silver Sky…? I’ve n-never heard of it.”
“Well, after our romp, seven confidentiality orders and three female pilots getting pregnant just by slipping in the seats, Cloudsdale Air renamed it the Lilac Sky. It was to keep us happy - and Zorin rich enough to keep him as comfortable as he made me.“ Stormy took a breathy gulp. ”But now it’s time we keep this ship from going down. And since my daughter lacks the hardware to play this part…” Soarin’s cautious footsteps took her to Spitfire and Stormy at last. ”Show us your cock.” she ordered, pointing at his groin.
Soarin stiffened at the order as if it’d come from Spitfire herself. His hooves flew to the indigo hatch of his nylon suit. After a moment’s hesitation, and the eyes behind Stormy’s aviator shades narrowing, he pulled at the hidden zipper to his suit.
Yellow material peeled away to reveal his hardening horsecock. Veins danced at the sultry order of Stormy, her mouth gaping at the succulent sight before her.. “And just as big as Zorin too,” Stormy raised her shades to the edge of her hairline and sucked the tip of a forehoof into her mouth. Her relaxed pose allowed Spitfire to finally face Soarin, salivating at the cock only inches from him.
“Eyes up, Spitfire! I had to use my rearhooves for the next part; you’ll both give me the strength to push down the landing strut levers!” Stormy quickly arched herself over her daughter, ending with her head bobbing over Spitfires’ buns - and Soarin’s twitching length.
“Rear-hooves? Mom, how long was this pilot’s dick!?” The answer to Spitfire’s inquiry was not forthcoming due to inclement weather, potential collisions, and a half-foot of Soarin stallionhood being vacuumed into Stormy’s greedy muzzle. The thrill Stormy’s body got from the warm feel of Soarin’s moans, meat, and mounting in her mouth was glorious. And the pre bubbling at the tip of that giant cock flexing in and out of her maw wasn’t bad either.
Stormy’s forehoof went further forward, cupping his meaty balls. His fleshy sacs churned and pulsed under her hardened touch, his dick swelling even more inside Stormy's mouth. Twirling her tongue against the medial ring, her back-and-forth sucking on his length finally made the male Wonderbolt start moving. Carefully slipping his hooves around the cradle of Stormy’s neck, Soarin shallowly fucked her golden lips.
The saliva strings between Stormy’s lips and Soarin’s shaft bobbed and broke as she pulled back to gasp, “Right down my throat, Boy Wonder.” Then Stormy leveled her mouth with the shining cock, took in a deep breath, and sank to the hilt of it in one thrust.
Spitfire had returned to action too, twirling her tongue around the thrumming clit of Stormy above her. Turned on as she was by the slurping noises behind her, she still hoped to spur more memories of rerouting the Lavender Spirit from Stormy. The airship was still losing altitude too fast to avoid a collision, and it was heading over Saddle Row now!
But Spitfire’s lecherous licks were getting slower and sloppier. Stormy couldn’t blame her daughter for her slacking slurps - her position wasn’t the most comfortable, after all. But if she didn’t come before Soarin, the illusion would break. Her orgasm’s extension by that handsome stallion’s thrusts was the only way she’d get the strength to get the landing gear up.
It looked like Spitfire’s efforts would end up falling short, though. Being skewered on Soarin’s dick, her practiced fellatio was now causing his hips to thrust erratically into her. Stormy’s forge of a mouth was too hot for him to not re-dip his tool into faster and faster. He was too close for Stormy’s comfort; glasses bobbing on her snout as her head whipped back and forth on his mare-splitter. It was only a few inches away from being wholly spit-shined.
The nylon-coated buns of Spitfire jiggling before Stormy gave her inspiration. It was risky; her mind was fading into pleasure fast, and her daughter’s taut legs could buckle if she slipped. But Stormy’s forehoof moved anyway, leaving Soarin’s bulging balls to brace on one of the chair arms. The other reared back and spanked Spitfire's asscheek, the jiggle of her daughter’s glutes and her moan into her stimulated snatch getting the horny Stormy closer to climax. Her loins clenched around Spitfire, desperate to spray down her face with her spunk.
“Soarin, d-do that to her! Hurry!” After Stormy’s desperate moan, she was back to deepthroating him, sending him into a keening fit. Spitfire’s next shuddering gasp came at her own fire rising to a new high. And it was being stoked by having her ass spanked by Soarin by her mother’s request.
She roared around Stormy’s clit, Spitfire now a mare possessed. She slurped and licked those folds like it was a Saddle Arabian oasis. Stormy’s tail whacked at her face as she finally reached her peak. Her rear hooves slamming against a pair of joysticks nearly at window’s length, the efforts only slightly budging them.
That would soon be fixed, though; for as Spitfire pushed up her nylon-covered buns for more punishment by Soarin, her ass also wedged around Stormy’s throat. With his erection trapped between the tight throat of Stormy and the pillowy rump of Spitfire, Soarin finally climaxed. His slick tip flared within Flare’s throat, and thick wads of cum pulsed down her gullet.
The reverb against Spitfire's thrumming cheeks as Stormy swallowed round after round of salty spunk made her move her maw against the golden snatch above her. Dollops of cuntsap plastered her suit’s mask - and large clumps of her orange mane - to her scalp.
Finally moving her forearms, Spitfire’s afterglow was spent helping her mother’s rear legs finally push down the joysticks. Two rubberized levers jerked to a slanted position, and the Lavender Spirit’s flight path leveled even further. Two lines anchored by sturdy poles dropped from beneath the aircraft to accept a landing.
A long, withering breath dragged into Stormy’s lungs as Soarin pulled her off his dick. His last few spurts basted her chin and the ass of Spitfire in white contrails of cum. “Good... job, Soarin. Knew you... were the right mare for the job,” Stormy panted, her limp form only held up by Soarin’s hooves.
“I h-hope I satisfied,” stuttered Soarin.
Stormy chuckled. “Soarin... you’ve known the answer since I tried you out on your third date.”
Spitfire’s mind re-booted at that announcement. When had Stormy and Soarin even met for this ‘tryout’? To her, Stormy’s opinion of Soarin seemed to sour on each date, eventually calling him to her own room at the start of the third date to chew him out! What an ego boost it must have been for her; Soarin literally dropping louder and louder praise for her unusually silent mother before he came down! Spitfire still didn’t even know a rom-com like Eat, Neigh, Love could freak him out, because he was sweating like an Appleloosian even before they got to...
Then the two originally unrelated occurrences clicked for Spitfire. “Soarin, mom?! You sucked off my boyfriend? You’ve gotta be fucking with m-oh, shit!”
Spitfire suddenly moaned as Soarin’s forearms flexed forward, tearing a diamond in the crotch of her skin-tight suit. As she would soon find out, Stormy had been trying to work the zip over her suit’s crotch, drooling globules of cum on Soarin’s member to re-harden him. The second goal was achieved within a minute. The first was so hard for her trembling hooves, though, she’d whispered to Soarin to expose Spitfire while she was yelling at her mother.
The cold air hitting her soaked nethers could have been hidden from Stormy. The hot gasp as Soarin rushed forward hilted in her with one thrust would not be.
“No, dear, S-Soarin’s got to be fucking you! Also; left knob, third on the left, push it 40 degrees right.” Stormy’s explanation as she clambered into the main pilot’s seat of the airship was punctuated by Spitfire’s gasp as Soarin’s dick pumped further into her. “Besides, you’ve your own issues with the nice stallions I bring around.”
“I've got no -ooh- idea what you’re talkiiiin-fuck yes!” Stormy could have made hay about how the proof of Spitfire's lie was glistening three inches before her eyes. But there was a small problem of the dirigible still about to crash at 5,000 feet. At this point, Spitfire was crucial to landing the Lavender Spirit; meaning Stormy had to take a side role to Spitfire and Soarin’s rutting.
Clambering into the pilot’s seat, Stormy took the wheel in her forearms, tugging back on it to help the dirigible's trajectory. Turning to Soarin, still hilting in her daughter with a look frozen between fear and want, she spoke. “Fuck her. Right between the two center levers; like she did Fire Streak on my third date with him.“
Soarin’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, but Stormy quickly interjected. “Before you, I promise.” Her hoof then pointed to the switchboard. “We’ll steer it toward the Manehattan Park fountain, it’ll slow the fall and extinguish the fires!”
“H-how do you know-oh! So deep!” Stormy’s only answer this time had been to take Spitfire by the shoulder and shove her onto her boyfriend’s shaft. Soarin’s dick shot between her folds, throbbing at the rough contact with Spitfire, and she moaned.
“You’re my child. A top Wonderbolt. Navigating through chaos is in your veins and vagina.“ Stormy’s answer to Spitfire nestled in her bliss-baked brain, and she moved to the controls in front of her seat.
As Soarin slid his hips back and thrust in again, Spitfire's last shred of restraint about this romp burned away. The Wonderbolts were on top, even here! Overwhelming determination - no desire? - surged through Spitfire like lava. Just in time, too, as the relentless fucking her boyfriend gave her hit a new depth. “Where do - harder! - do I start?” she savagely purred.
Stormy’s grin returned. “Follow the motions- your switch will always be next to mine!” As her hooves flew across the knobs and buttons on her panel, Spitfire followed suit on her end. Soarin’s humping to keep his Captain rapt at attention started out shallow at first. Spitfire’s pink walls were less merciful, milking the stallionhood plunging into her.
Spitfire’s amorous gasps and pants let Soarin know of the stellar work he was doing. And Spitfire’s hooves still punched the controls with Stormy despite how hard her body thrashed against them, showing Stormy how stellar a job she could do.
Stormy, after guiding the Lavender Spirit onto a straightaway street to the fountain, turned back to the action happening inches to her right. Ravenously, her forehooves raced to Soarin’s balls and chin as he bucked and smacked against her daughter’s sopping cunt.
“Deeper,” hissed Stormy, dragging Soarin face-to-face to let her hot breath wash over his face. The reason for the instruction was as twisted as the tongue plunging into his hot mouth. But life-saving as she was proving to be, Spitfire refused to let her mother have any more of Soarin, Her jealousy hit a boiling point as she saw one nylon-covered forehoof of Soarin’s push between Stormy's legs. Despite it being a gift for her fondling of his swelling sack, Spitfire yanked their lips apart to nip at Soarin’s herself.
Again it was her turn to take his breath away as she crushed her lips to his, purring. “Now, she’s cumming after I do, Soarin.” One buck of her shapely ass later, and Soarin’s wanton wail into her mouth made her want to stay lip-locked forever. Regardless, Spitfire had a duty, even drunk on desire. Not even her impending orgasm would keep her from it…for long.
Three final series of switches were flipped between mother and daughter’s flitting hooves. Soon, the ship was on a level course with the body of water the Manehattan fountain burbled out. And all three ponies were close too, as Soarin’s finally hit Spitfire’s G-spot with his deepest thrust and hoofed fully into Stormy’s cunt.
A rustling of wings - utterly unheard by the pane of gaps and twinned wails separating them - heralded the arrival of Misty Sky and High Winds. Both Wonderbolts were dropping down from outside the airship to give hooves up to the brave pilots that had found such a casualty-free crash-point for the 2,000 foot-high Lavender Spirit.
Misty and Winds, however, got an eyeful of Soarin rutting Spitfire over the switchboard with his thrusting thighs. Not only that, but a pony that looked like an older Spitfire was also yanking back the wheel as Soarin’s foreleg blurred at a spot between her legs. Misty’s hoof slammed over Winds’ maw before she could cry out in protest. Her other front hoof lapped out by her tongue as a lecherous show of approval to Spitfire for her debaucherous drive.
Both mares flew off to tackle the flames above, leaving the three equines to their work. A final thrust into his girlfriend’s G-spot and Soarin flare locked him in. Soon, his orgasm hit, dousing Spitfire’s pink insides with virile cum. His hips were still swiveling around her pussy as it clamped over his meat, thirsty for everything Soarin could feed her.
With so large a cock spraying her raw insides, Spitfire moaned “Fuuuuucck!” into her mother's face as she climaxed herself. She wasn’t alone, either; the vibration of the careening craft and Soarin’s hoof wedging wholly into her folds made Stormy erupt as well. Wave after wave of sparkling sap shot from both mares’ folds, their cries for Soarin echoing in the pungent cockpit.
A rumbling crash and the ship’s landing struts bent - but didn’t break - under the impact. Then the flaming balloonets of the grounded aircraft collapsed into the wide pool it stopped a. The Wonderbolts take the rest of the fire suppression from there with a new water source.
For Stormy, Spitfire, and Soarin, though, those same burning sacks of canvas also shrouded them in near-total darkness. Only the dim blinking of the emergency lights playing testament to their tryst.
Both Soaring and Spitfire were draped over the control panel; sharp edges of the switches making Spitfire twitch deliciously around the stallion’s softening dick. Stormy’s head was cradled in the docked wing of Soarin, chest aflame from her efforts. Yet, due to the pleasure still simmering at their sex-slickened loins, none dared to complain.
Soarin was the first to gasp out. “So… do we… mention this in the after-repo-”
“No. And we’ll need... an excuse ready for if my daughter ends up bearing child,” whispered Stormy Flare. “But I know… how we might escape this one.” Her eyes swung to the door leading into the carnality-reeking cockpit, and she smiled.
Stormy Flare was sipping at a mug of steaming chocolate as she looked at the report in Spitfire’s luxurious office. It had only been several hours after their heroic rescue. Once again, Spitfire was the center of the evening Clouds-Daily newspaper. Her limp body had been backpacked over Soarin’s in the cover, right over the asphalt outside Manehattan Park. ‘Bolts Brake The Blimp’was splashed across the top of the paper in big block letters.
As the mare of honor trotted back into the office, that very black-and-white photo was flipped up to her. “Happy to have seen you work, Spitfire.” Stormy said.
“No problem, mom.” Spitfire sheepishly muttered as her office door creaked shut. “And Misty and Winds kept this secret, too! How… did you do that?”
“No, knowing of Zorin did that,” Stormy helpfully pointed out. “I believe those two girls are off to see the zebra in the photo I gave them is as well-packed as he looked.”
Spitfire blushed.
“You run a fine outfit, Spitfire.” Another sip of warming brew crossed Stormy's golden maw. “And he should see you out of it more often.”
Thankfully, Spitfire wasn’t drinking anything at the time the double entendre left her mother’s mouth. As it was, only a mouthful of spittle flew from her lips, narrowly avoiding Soarin’s shaggy blue mane.
“At ease, ma’am.” Soarin’s joke got a warm smile from Spitfire as she retured his salute. “Up for another trip outdoors?”
“I am, myself.” Origins from the plush vermillion chair she was in, Stormy moved for the door. “My time in the sky’s left me longing for solid ground tonight. I’d love to soak in Luna’s very welcome reprieve to this hot day. Maybe from a nice rooftop.”
As the mature mare let the door close behind her, Soarin turned back to Spitfire. “We could head out too, Captain. There are still reporters outside, but we could skirt around them an-”
Spitfire adjusted her flight jacket, then faced Soarin. No embarrassment or trepidation touched her golden eyes now. “Not tonight. My house, at six o’clock. Fourth door on the right.”
“Wait, isn’t that the one leading to your mother’s-”
“Bedroom, yes.” Spitfire’s grin turned wicked as she moved for the window. “And you’re fucking the right yellow pegasus on it this time. I expect you there… Wonder Boy.”
That grin Spitfire shot him could have melted a lesser stallion - or an iceberg, for that matter. For Soarin though, it was full steam ahead as he quickly leaped out the window after his Captain.
