An Ice In Heat

Ice Pick leaned one hoof on the water dotted glass, whilst her other was preoccupied down below. Down her chest, her slim flat belly, pushing down on one of her medium-sized peaks, her hoof was embroiled in a grind-off against her clit. The frog of her hoof whisked against her winking love button, trying to pestle out every drop of pleasure she could, hoping the sound of the shower would help hide her moans. The hot waters matted down her bright grey fur, her blonde mane was stuck to her cheeks in strands. She looked a mess, ironically, even under the showerhead. Her pink, velvet-soft walls attempted to squeeze around a fat virile slab of meat, which is unfortunately absent from her tight snatch.

Why didn’t I spent just a little extra?

The mournful thought rang out with every lull in the pleasure she felt. Instead of shelling out a few extra bits to alleviate the annual fire in her twat from a licenced physician, she got cocky. ‘How bad could it be?’, she asked herself as the spell wore off, realising the weight of her folly when she awoke that morning with her thighs effectively glued together with her own essences, and her nostrils congested by her own arousal. She disappeared into the bathroom that afternoon and had yet to come out, furiously – and with futility – trying to rub away a decade’s worth of inexperienced heat. She couldn’t have predicted the effect it would have on her mind too. Through the red haze of frustration, her thoughts were awash with big leaking cocks and swollen bellies and crotchtits heavy with milk, her thighs quivering at the prospect of leaving the bathroom and impale herself on a first turgid shaft she came across. Now, it wasn’t that she opposed the idea of a foal, nor was she in short supply of thick dicks to choose from – two, in fact. However, what stayed her from prostrating herself before the first stallion she saw, demanding to be filled, was a simple vice she held: Pride.

Ice Pick loathed the idea of not being in charge. If she wanted to fuck, it was because she said so, not her body. Her masturbation efforts were an attempt to wrangle it, keep it under control. Yet. Even through the fog of steaming water and the soap on her fur, the only scent her nose could pick up was her own. A perfunctory spice that just left her perpetually soaked. The more she rubbed, the wetter she got, the stronger her scent became and thus the more her libido was stoked – repeat ad infinitum.

“Ice Pick, we’re back!”

“D-dammit,” she cursed through a clenched jaw, allowing her hoof to drop. She had come close to spraining something with how long she devoted to pleasuring herself, her hind legs shaking, bearing the weight of her body for upwards of an hour now.

Ice Pick was one-third of a committed relationship. One mare, two stallions, although they weren’t devoted purely to her. Attentions were spread equally, and not a hole was left untouched between them. However, they each fulfilled a ‘role’, or so Ice Pick liked to think. Permittivity, just as his name was a mouthful, so was his cock. Long and thick, if Ice fancied a nice stretch she’d allow him to fuck her twat so long as she was on top. The other stallion in her life, Rosetta, was a cute slice of pie. Whilst not as endowed as the other stallion, she loved to tease him relentlessly and listen to his mewls and moans as she rode him, and she rode him hard. When the orange stud wasn’t pounding her pussy to soreness and she wasn’t rendering Rosetta incapable of walking for that weak, there was nothing forbidding them from having fun with each other. If she had a bit for the number of times Permittivity was balls deep in the smaller stallion or Rosetta was rocking gently back and forth in the other stallion’s mouth, she might have had enough bits to spare her from the unrelenting heat.

With a clenched jaw, she turned off the shower, looking towards the closed door. “I’m coming!” she called back, groaning soon after. If only.

She dried herself off, paying extra attention to the insides of her thighs, tossing the ‘corrupted’ towel into a hamper for future washing, which also laid atop the stained bedsheets from that morning. She had taken all the necessary precautions in hiding her ailment from the stallions, who were as likely to have their lusts fanned from her scent as she was. Prior to it crashing into her like a freight train, she saw mares on the streets walking side by side with new lovers. If Hearts and Hooves day was for the stallions to profess their attractions, then the first day of heat was for mare’s to show who their pussies were sodden for. However, not every mare had to suffer years of accumulated heat being dropped on their flanks, so she was unique in that regard.

Her muzzle was the first thing she poked out from the door after she dried off, peeking for her lovers. The two stallions were completely unaware of her situation, the ponies in question together in the kitchen, laughing at something she was too far away to hear.

Permittivity was stockier of the two, with a rich orange coat and a mess of chocolate brown mane atop his head; his horn poking through. Rosette on the other hoof was smaller in frame, smaller than even Ice Pick, slightly more effeminate and much cuter than the other stallion as a result. His mane was a shade of crimson, his soft-looking coat a bright shade of pink. In the midst of their conversation, they each shared looks with one another, their blue eyes radiating an affection that only lovers could share… or was worn by the other like a puppet on their cock.

Ice Pick blushed at the image, grinding her hind legs together as she swallowed back her anxiety. She knew if she threw herself out into the presence of the two strapping stallions she might not be able to hold herself back – the temptation was strong enough as it is! However, she knew that too long in hiding would provoke them into the investigation, no doubt discovering her vulnerability. Sighing, she entered the apartment proper, determined to leave her heat in the bathroom.

“Hey guys,” she greeted, forcing her voice to remain steady, “how’re you doing?”

Both of the stallions immediately shot their eyes in her direction, smiling coming to both of their faces – they were clearly glad to see her again. Little did they know, at the mere sight of them, Ice’s body was flushed with a surge of primal fire, her moistening cunny hidden behind her lowered tail.

“Great!” started Perm, his voice like honey and somewhat deep, nodding with a grin in Rosette’s direction. “Although, Rose here wanted to take the long way back.”

“Cutting through the park during spring isn’t worth the risk – it’s not only pollen you have to worry about during this season!” Objected the smaller stallion, his higher, softer voice almost cracking, looking between Ice and Perm with a glimmer of panic in his eyes.

“What? Afraid the smell of a few horny mares would encourage me to you into a nearby bush and ravage you?” he asked with a playful grin, leaning towards Rosette with pronounced lips.

Rosette’s pink cheeks adopted a shade of red, leaning away from his encroaching lips. “More afraid that the bush wouldn’t already be occupied! You know how some mares get during this time of year. They can get… insistent.”

“And how is that any different than Ice?” he asked, withdrawing his lips to wink in her direction. “She can be pretty demanding.”

“But she’s not d-desperate,” he reasoned with a nervous break, smiling sheepishly in her direction.

“Yeah, you’ve got that right,” concurred Perm, snorting. “Hey, remember that time you woke up tied to the bedposts? By the time I got home, you were making noises I wasn’t sure a stallion could ever make!”

“Well, how about the time she roped you into pet play?” countered Rosette with a grin, his own cheeks flushed at the memory.

Perm’s eyes widened, a tincture of red coming to his dark orange cheeks. “How was I supposed to know the collar was enchanted?!”

“Because of the second tail?” replied Rose, waggling his eyebrows, smiling demurely.

The larger stallion pursed his lips, although it was clear he was trying to suppress the laugh building behind it. “Oh, you mean my dick?” Perm grinned.

Rose chortled into his hoof before replying. “It was wagging. And I could trace your exact route in the apartment by the mess you were leaving behind.”

“I must have beaten a record somewhere. Who else has remained that hard without relief?” he asked, only half-serious.

“Any longer and I’m sure she would have had you whimpering too,” Rose quipped, grinning cheekily.

Whilst the two chortled at the memories, Ice felt her eye twitch as her cheeks inflamed once again, recalling each vividly. For Rosette, she had been planning their salacious activity for a few days – all without the stallion’s knowledge of course. You can’t let the birthday colt in on his birthday surprise after all, even if it was for her own carnal enjoyment as much as his. She awoke after Perm left for work, hastily tying the smaller stallion’s limbs to each bedpost before she went to work.

She recalled his cute, groggy expression when she awoke him with kisses to the sheath, stirring not just him awake but his cock also. The prime difference between her interactions with Perm and Rose when it came to sex (and they weren’t both involved directly) was the amount of time she dedicated to foreplay. Perm was a stud. Any time, anywhere he was ready to ‘drop’ and go. In comparison, Rosette was more tender, which called for a soft touch. She recalled when his mottled pink spire rose from it sheath, how she graced his mottled length with licks and kisses, her tongue flicking up each and every bead of precum from his trembling meat. His mewls and moans were almost sonorous in their quality, and she enjoyed listening to them, but not as much as his whimpers. She’d use her lips to functionally ‘nibble’ his medial ring, causing his thighs to tense and his limbs to pull at the bindings. It might have been his special day but that didn’t mean he’d receive mercy… well, much of it.

When he started to beg, that’s when she decided to move onto the next stage. By then, his cock was like a tap, an unceasing stream of clear sticky pre coursing down his desperate, throbbing length. She angled her pussy over his pole, by now she was soaking wet but she was considerably more measured than he was at controlling her arousal. She dropped herself, impaling her twat on his cock and she rode him, her hooves resting on his flat stomach for support. She felt him pulse, the first sticky rope hitting the roof of her womb, the ones thereafter leaking from her tight twat and gathering at the base of his humble pink column. He was panting, clearly exerted from the experience… Then she raised her hips and dropped back down.

It wasn’t over.

Ice rode him for hours. She’d orgasm, trembling with ecstasy but she continued to slap her hips and ride him like a bronco at the carnival. Meanwhile, his balls were drained so thoroughly that he was completely dry by the eighth or so orgasm, sweating bullets as he pushed beyond the limits of his endurance. It was certainly an experience. That was her goal really, to make it memorable. The fact they were discussing it vividly meant she succeeded in that particular endeavour but he chewed her lip in longing, wishing to be split in twain by Rosette’s member and for him to return the favour, picturing herself being mounted by the stallion, just a bit too small to nip at the back of her neck…

Her eyes widened. ‘Think unsexy thoughts, think unsexy thoughts!’ she told herself, yet her body opposed her mind every step of the way. Her eyes glued themselves to Perm, the current conversation between the two muted as the past was forcefully brought to light in her head. She could recall it with perfect clarity. His excitement. She knew his expectations were, at most, tempered. With pet play, he had no doubt expected the collar, perhaps some yanking – and not just on his leash! Maybe a few verbal references to dogs. However, through the repayment of a favour, she acquired a rather… potent, enchantment for the collar he’d be wearing. The simple faux-leather adornment, as he would soon discover, was irremovable by no other hoof except hers. And, all the while, he found his balls sloshing with enhanced fertility and volume, his fat fuckstick filled to the brim with the fiery hot blood of an enhanced libido. Even without stimuli, he was practically pissing his clear stick essence over the floor. She had half the mind to have him lick it up if she weren’t aroused by it. His neediness and blushing countenance that day was the first time she had seen outright desperation in the large stallion. She had witnessed Rosette’s twitching hind legs and puppy-like mewls when Perm prodded and poked at his needy entrance, or when she ground herself against cock in bed, yet Perm’s breakdown into lusty hysterics was surreal to see. When she eventually allowed him to mount her, it felt like being bred by a feral dog, his typical quips and lustful remarks replaced by pants...

She could empathise with him now. Just as pure, unfettered arousal coursed into him, filling him with an itch he couldn’t ever hope to scratch. Ironically, only they alleviate her own burning libido now… but at what cost?

“Do you smell something?”

The question broke her free of her lust-fuelled reverie, shooting her blue eyes to Rosette, whose nostrils were flared and sniffing at the air curiously.

Perm, similarly, raised his muzzle and took a whiff, his eyes squinting, “You know what, now that you mention it-”

“No!” she exclaimed in panic, her eyes matching her tone as they widened into plates.

Both stallions turned their surprised hues towards her. They both blinked, the pause ensuring so pregnant that Ice Pick was aroused by that in of itself.

“‘No’?” Perm echoed, a whimsical smile coming to his face.

“No! Ahem, no,” she reiterated in a low voice, drawing her hoof in front of her with an uneasy chuckle. “I do not smell anything,” she lied, forcing a cool grin. Meanwhile, her pussy could spark a fire. It was so hot. “A-and if you do, maybe you’re just imagining it!”

“Oh… ‘kay?” Perm said, raising a brow sceptically.

“Well, I smell something, and it smells spicy. Do you think it’s from another apartment?” asked Rose, his brows knitting.

“If smells can travel through these walls then I think we’re paying too much for our rent. But at the same time, I pity the ponies who have to deal with living next to us,” joked Perm, chuckling as he looked between his two lovers, sighing in contentment thereafter. “Sex joke.”

“Well, I hope they cut it out soon. I feel like I’m getting hot just from proxy.”

“You mean it isn’t just me then? And I can’t even smell it.”

“So what are you two up to today?” she asked, hoping to throw off their train of thought. “A leisurely stroll outside, perhaps?”

“We just got home, why would we leave again?” asked Rose, smiling.

“Yeah, I don’t plan on going out there much during this time of the year anyhow,” added Perm, similarly simpering.

“That means we can spend the day together. Doesn’t sound great, Ice?” Rose was beaming, clearly happy to spend time with both of his lovers.

“Y-yeah…” she concurred ruefully, forcing a smile; her tail twitching anxiously.

Crap...