Blazing Fire

Cloudsdale was, to the average pony, a great conglomerate of clouds and rainbows which flowed together conveniently to form a sporadic and unorganized place. But, the structure of this city was much more than a bundle of clouds jumbled together, and its history was older than the Princesses themselves. Born aloft upon hundreds, if not thousands, of thick white clouds (and only ones deemed suitable for construction) the city was built within it’s very foundations, for where there were often clouds the size of islands and as deep as mountains, one would find that pegasi didn’t just live on their surfaces, but also in great networks of homes and businesses therein.

Buildings themselves were made of clouds, yes, though one could often be fooled by their appearance. Stone, brick, wood, glass, marble: all these seemed often a material in which homes and shops were built; but upon further inspection one would find that they were all clouds as well, though made with dye to add colors, or different waters were used to enhance texture or strengthen their weave. Windows, when there were any that weren’t just holes that were opened and closed up at their owner’s whim, were also made from clouds, consisting of more air than moisture. Though often there were windows made from panes of crystal imported from the Crystal Empire. Light, sturdy, and more often than not enchanted, they settled perfectly into the buildings here, though they were expensive.

It also came as no surprise that most of these places were also, purposefully or not, almost entirely centered around their usage by pegasi. Doors were often only accessible through balconies, and certain buildings floated entirely upon clouds, completely out of the reach of an earth pony, or a unicorn who lacked the required spells to fly or float. Though, with the more recent policies being influenced by Princess Twilight Sparkle, many aspects of expansion within growing cities and towns were required to consider the limitations and powers of other races, especially in a place like Cloudsdale, and modern architecture showed it with their flat cloud foundations and homes that looked to be ripped right out of a Manehatten suburb.

None of this mattered much to Blaze as they passed through the air of the city, however. Atleast, not at this moment. It was everyday that she was able to bask in the glory of this city in the sky, and she was doing her best to pay much more attention to her peers, and their current conversation.

To her right, flying ever so gracefully, was her sister, Spitfire. She had her purple aviators over her eyes, and was wearing a brown flight jacket that rolled down her forelegs and stopped just before her flanks. Her mane and tail were well groomed and brushed heavily, as was her coat, which shone brightly in the warmth of the spring sun.

Blaze herself was similarly dressed, she had her own pair of plain black sunglasses, and she had on a dark blue coat of a more casual style. Her mane was swaybacked just enough to keep her strands from sticking out as much as they naturally did, and she had made sure to wash with a sweet raspberry shampoo and soap, she also had just a tiny, little bit of eyeliner on. She had really wanted to wear a skirt, but considering the talk she had with Spitfire earlier, it would probably not be such a good idea.

All things considered, even without the skirt, she was pretty done up.

Then, beside Spitfire, flying with strong, powerful strokes, was Soarin. The pale blue stallion had his own flight jacket on, also brown and quite similar to Spitfire’s own. Though his was adorned with dozens of different patches and pins, ranging to anything from Wonderbolt tour patches, to sports team pins, to even bands and event themed ones. It was quite the eyecatcher, and Blaze had caught herself eyeing them during their time together so far. Besides that, he didn’t wear anything else, his emerald eyes free from any coverings, and his mane and tail flowed naturally in the wind.

Perfect. She wanted him to be as natural as possible for when their time came. Perhaps that was the reason she hadn’t put on any more make-up than she had, nor done herself up with any perfume. Well, that and Spitfire’s advice that she go a bit more natural this time around.

“I’m telling you, Spits. Fleetfoot would make a fine commander!” Soarin argued.

Spitfire didn’t agree, “She’s very egoistic, Soarin. She does fine being third, but I don’t know if I’d trust her as my second.”

The two had been debating the fact since they had left the ‘Cloudtop’, a bar and grill in downtown Cloudsdale that the Wonderbolts had chosen to have Soarin’s retirement party. It was a rustic place, a favorite among the stallions in the Bolts; the staff were friendly, they all had a private bar and room all to themselves, with good food and drink to boot. It hadn’t been a long party (Soarin didn’t like lingering around for too long) and since there was going to be a formal ceremony in a few days, everyone involved figured that the afterparty would be a better time to get drunk. Not while having lunch at one in the afternoon.

But that was hours ago, and now the sun was just above the skyline, it had to have been close to six now, and twilight would be peaking on the horizon in just an hour or so. It was all as the sisters had planned, and currently, everything was moving along nicely. No one was drunk, and the stuffiness of the bar with so many ponies jam packed against one another had them quite hot and wet in the fur.

The perfect excuse for them to take Soarin to their current destination: a bathhouse.

Looked down upon by most of the other tribes, the practices of building and bathing within large public spaces were an ancient pegasi tradition, dating back to the times even before the legends of Flash Magnus, or so it was believed. Considering the magic that dwelled within pegasi that allowed them to fly, move clouds, and control weather, the idea of flooding clouds with rainwater into large pools rather than trying to run plumbing to homes was not only much more efficient, but helped strengthen the social bonds of clans, of which many would share a single bathhouse despite feuds or even proxy wars.

The practice was still largely relevant to pegasi today, especially in Cloudsdale, though it was known now in these times that taking a dip in a bathhouse was more akin to taking a trip to the park or heading to the spa, it was done out of leisure, rather than need. But, the bathhouses still served their purposes of being centers for socialization as well as saving ponies a few bits on water bills if they decided to take a bath or clean clothes in the public pools.

Soarin, meanwhile, gave a sly nod, “You’re not wrong, but I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Captain.”

Spitfire rolled her eyes, “Just because you’re out of the Bolts doesn’t mean you need to start bringing rank into things.”

Blaze chuckled lightly under her breath, she had been very giddy throughout the day; not that she was a mare lacking humor, but she typically didn’t giggle or chuckle at any little side jab or joke that was made. If she was to be honest with herself, Blaze put that to her sheer nervousness.

And, oh, how nervous she was, especially now that their destination was within view. It had her heart pounding with the implications of the place fast approaching. She felt that she had much longer to get a hold of herself, considering they had been flying through Cloudsdale for nearly thirty minutes, plus the twenty minute flight outside of Cloudsdale to reach the place before them:

Set into a massive cloud that stretched down into the open air like a glacier to the sea, with solid mass as tall and wide as a mountain, was a large, white (cloud) marble temple. It’s face was embedded into the cloud itself, with only thick columns visibly running along it’s walls to support a thick overhang with a set of stairs that rose high from it’s soft foundation. To anyone else, it was another building trying to replicate the style of the ancient pegasi clans, but to Blaze, and especially to Spitfire, this was an ancient place, wrought with history.

The group landed at the top of the marble stairs, and Soarin gazed around with a sharp eye fueled with a mild curiosity, “So, this is the bathhouse you two use?” His ears flicked at the general silence, and the lack of ponies around, “It seems...kind of deserted.”

Spitfire was to remedy his concerns, “It’s an older one, Soarin. It’s out of town, and not too accessible to the general public. But, me and Blaze have been coming here for years.” She gave him a sly smile, “Trust us, you’ll like it.”

After a moment, he seemed content with her explanation and perked up again, “Well, what are we waiting for?”

At that, the group entered through the thick, wood looking doors and were greeted with a plain, undecorated corridor. It was huge, stretching easily 30 or so feet into the air, and was wide enough for two carriages to be pulled alongside one another. Soft, oil braziers burned in bronze tubs along the walls, emitting a soft warm light throughout the place. Such sources were completely obsolete compared to magical lamps, but Blaze knew the keepers of this house wanted to keep the place ‘historically accurate’, something she could respect.

They were also greeted by a pair of pegasi, a stallion and a mare just shy a few inches shorter than him; both dressed in long, thin togas clasped at the back of their withers. They were both light blue in color, with deep blue mane, and with red irises. The pair had seemingly been idly conversing but had snapped to the trio as they approched, large brimming smiles on their muzzles.

“Welcome, Spitfire and Blaze.” The stallion greeted, “It is always good to have you two back here with us.”

Soarin cocked a brow at the two, but didn’t say anything. Spitfire nodded, wearing her own soft smile, “Cloud Cover, Clear Cover. This is Soarin.” She introduced him.

The pair simply bowed to him, another act that confused the stallion, and Blaze returned it to a degree, “I’d assume he is the guest you have informed us of?” Clear Cover, the mare, stated.

Blaze nodded, “He is.”

Cloud Cover nodded back, “We have prepared a port, at your request. You will find your commodities there. Please, if you need any assistance, let us know.”

“Thank you.” Spitfire replied simply, and ushered Soarin forward.

The trio trotted down the hall and were greeted by the entrance of a small room filled with rows of benches and some trunks. Just across from where they had entered was a T corridor where it split off left and right, “We undress in here, and dry off when we’re done.” Spitfire explained.

Soarin gazed around, seemingly surprised by just how open the entire floor plan was so far, but he didn’t waste a moment taking off his jacket, and placing it over a trunk, “Who were those two? Were they twins?” He inquired. Blaze watched him closely, his fur slightly matted and damp where the jacket had been.

“No, they’re siblings, yes, but they paint their fur and manes to respect the tradition of the bathhouse caretakers, something about representing the water and rains or something. The togas are supposed to be clouds.” Spitfire answered as she stripped as well. She was even worse off than Soarin, considering her thick flight jacket was meant to help with high altitude temperatures, she had been sweating heavily during their time at the party, though their flight seemed to have helped in cooling her off.

Blaze worked on herself, taking her coat off and folding it neatly on a marble-cloud bench, it was almost time.

Finishing up in the undressing room, they led Soarin down the other hall.Turning right they were immediately assaulted by a feeling of dwarfism. Where they stood was an astonishing feat of ancient pegasi architecture. The chamber was easily 100 yards in length, and easily half that in width. Carved out of the cloud itself this massive room was unlike the rest of the place that they had seen so far which was largely bare and lacking in decor, the place looked like it was ripped right out of Canterlot palace.

The walls were carved with murals and other intricate artworks, massive columns rose along the chamber’s edges and curved up into the high ceiling, which also featured paintings of various types and forms. Some were stories of pegasi mythos, others were epics of heroes from times long past, and a few were a bit more...intimate. ‘Tales of Fertility’ some would call them. But, the main attraction, and what was undoubtedly the most breathtaking, was the massive pool in the center of the place. Waterfalls flowed from thin rectangular cutouts in the ceiling, running along carved places in the walls and flowing softly into the pool, here and there were small islands within, strangely adorned with soft, red pads of dyed clouds. And the water, oh, the water was as clear as the finest gems, with a hue of light blue due to the colored surface of it’s tub. Here and there were also chambers carved where water flowed under thick white curtains.

Blaze couldn’t help but smile as she basked in the sight, and from her sneak at Soarin, neither could he.

“Woah.” She heard the stallion mutter, “If I had known this place was a bathhouse, I would have been coming here for years!” His emerald eyes glittered as he gazed across the waters of the house.

Blaze shrugged, “Not many ponies know it is a bathhouse. And, if I’m going to be honest, we like it that way. We’ve been coming here for a few years, it's a nice place, roomy, and remote enough for the papers not to think of coming out here.” She looked over to Spitfire who was waiting for her to finish her little tangent, a sly smirk on her face.

“We can give him the history lesson in our reserve, sis.” Spitfire chuckled as she started trotting along to their ‘reserve.’

Blaze felt her cheeks rose over, and she nodded, “Yeah, yeah.” She agreed. The mare took hold of Soarins hoof, his ears peaking in surprise as she did, and Blaze guided him along the soft, real tiled edge of the pool, following after Spitfire. It was a bold move on her part, but he offered no resistance, though he still had a confused look on his face, “I can walk, you know.” He chuckled.

Blaze smiled, “I know.”

They made their way to the first sectioned off area to the left. Spitfire held the curtain aside for the two, and they passed under it’s heavy sheet. On the other side was a small room, almost claustrophobic compared to the huge open space of the main chamber. As with the outside area there was a little walkway that wrapped around where a small stream connected the water from the main reservoir into a little circular pool within this room. The edges around this pool, which looked much like a sauna tub though lacking in steam and the light whirl of mechanical pipes and such, were padded with velvety soft clouds that were dyed a pleasant sky blue.

“Huh, now I can see why you two like this place.” Soarin commented, gazing around the space that had been reserved for the trio. It would be very difficult for paparazzi or journalists to try and sneak around and snap a few pictures without the risk of interrupting a family or couple’s personal time.

Spitfire closed the curtain and trotted past them, “Yeah, it’s very shut in. Nopony should bother us.” She trotted up to a part of the pool that had a few steps to safely get in and out of the water. It was a rather deep tub, the water could easily reach halfway up her barrel, though her hooves would still be able to touch the floor. But always better safe than sorry. She swirled a hoof around in the water, barely wetting it, and nodded, “Come on over here sis, water’s nice.”

Blaze knew that was her queue, and she trotted past Soarin, making sure to playfully swish her tail a few times and she followed after her sister, stepping down into the pool. The water was cold at first, but as they descended it felt warmer and warmer. Not as nice as she liked her showers, but it was a respectable temperature. It felt good against the tips of her wings, which twitched at the contact.

Spitfire dipped her head under the water and rose again, her mane wet and glistening as it ran down along her withers and over her face. Blaze did the same, making sure to dramatize her dive and rise, letting her own mane, which was just barely an inch or so longer than Spitfire’s own, slap against her neck, and she looked back at Soarin, who was watching with that kind, but still neutral gaze of his, and waved her hoof, “Come on!” She ushered him over.

He smiled deeper, and it was a short trot before he was also lowering himself into the water, giving off a soft sigh especially as it touched his wings. He settled himself next to the edge, resting his back on the strange pads, “So, uh, where’s the soaps and stuff?” Soarin asked, looking around at their small space, “Usually the staff give us complementary stuff at the house I go to, but, I’m not seeing anything around here.” It was true, most bathhouses prohibited ponies using their own personals, and instead provided clean towels, brushes, soaps, and shampoos, the soap being specifically made to kill bacteria on contact, with their suds also cleaning the water of the pools. But so far, there hadn’t been any sign of any of these usual givens.

Spitfire smirked, and she reached into some unseen cubby hidden by one of the pads, and pulled out a few bars of soap, one for each of them, as well as some little bottles of shampoos and conditioners, setting them on the edge of the pool.

Soarin shrugged, “Huh, that’s convenient.” As he watched Spitfire hoof one off to Blaze, and then wadded her way over to Soarin. He reached out to take it, but Spitfire kept it just out of reach. The stallion cocked a brow in confusion, and Blaze soon stood on his left, her sister flanking his right.

“No, let us.” The two sisters said simultaneously. Lathering the soap and starting to run it along him, starting with his barrel.

“Hey, hey now mares. I can wash myself, thank you very much.” He sputtered, a slight blush on his blue cheeks, as he snatched one of the soaps from their hooves, “Besides, I was thinking I’ll just...sit and enjoy the water here a bit.”

The two sisters looked to each other, and Blaze bit her lip at the fact that he hadn’t taken the bait fully, besides getting a slight blush out of the stallion. But Spitfire gave her a nod barely visible, they had gone over this a hundred times, they had a plan. Just because he didn’t take to ‘A’ didn’t mean they didn't have a ‘B’.

“Alright, well we’re going to start on ourselves then.” Spitfire said calmly, and she wadded, soap in wing, opposite to Soarin, and Blaze followed. She took a few deep breaths, she just needed to remember what they practiced.

It started off slow, they wet their sponges and lathered themselves up, cleaning out the sweat and grime from the long day of eating and socializing. Blaze watched her sister intently, how she exaggerated her movements, twisting her flank to and fro, and squeezing her chest towards Soarin, her tuft puffing out for all the world to see. But, she never focused on him, rather keeping her eyes to herself, as if all her movements were entirely from her effort to wash herself.

Blaze followed along, pressing her shoulders together as she washed her golden tuft, and ran her hooves along her barrel, her competitive streak showing through a bit as she did her best to match Spitfire’s movements, though adding her own little twists and turns. She couldn’t help but gaze at Soarin, who seemed to be more interested in a bottle of conditioner.

Blowing air through her nose, she looked to Spitfire, who was now running her hooves through her wet tail, “Hey sis, I think I got a few loose feathers. Think you could help me out?” She asked loudly, hoping to catch the stallion’s attention.

Spitfire looked to her, and gave a sly smile, “Sure, sis. Sure.”

Blaze turned her back to her sister as she wadded her way over, and presented her wings out proudly. She felt her sister’s wet muzzle running along the edges of her primaries, and Blaze shuttered as she took one in her teeth. She didn’t really have any loose feathers really, considering she had preened before the party, but it did feel really good, considering the primaries were the most sensitive.

Spitfire then ran her muzzle down the arm of her wing to the joint, “Wow, sis. You really are tense. Is the water too cold for you?” She smirked. Blaze didn’t answer, knowing where her sister was going with this. She soon felt her sisters soaked hooves rest themselves on her back, and she started running them along her length. Blaze shuddered at the contact, and her wings stretched out even more than they had already, granting her sister more access.

She started on her wings slowly, massaging the muscle and aligning a feather here and there. But then she got to her joints, pressing on them hard with the hard tips of her hooves. It was the very embodiment of pain and pleasure, and Blaze moaned outwardly as jolts ran up her spine. “Don’t be too loud sis, somepony might hear us.” She purred.

Blaze grunted as more bolts assaulted her mind, “And when has that stopped us before?”

Spitfire smiled toothly, “You’re right.” Blaze suddenly felt her sister’s hot breath on the back of her damp neck, “How about we...entertain instead.” And then she nipped her neck.

Blaze was red hot, and the assault on her wings had taken a heavy toll on her, but when her sister bit her, that threw her into a whirlwind. She moaned again, and turned to face her twin, who’s eyes were half lidded with a sultry smile, her own wings quite erect. Her fiery eyes gazed into Blaze’s own cool purple ones, and her fur glittered with the drops of a thousand diamonds, her mane dripping stars. Blaze didn’t care who was there, or if Soarin was even watching, she needed this beautiful mare, and she rushed forth and their muzzles collided.

It seemed Spitfire had been ready for it, as she opened her mouth immediately and brought a hoof to the back of her sister’s head as they sucked lip. Blaze invaded her sister’s wet mouth, and their broad tongues collided, a faint taste of rum and soda on Spitfire’s mixed with the small hint of strawberry daiquiri on Blaze’s. They wrestled for dominance, though Spitfire proved to be the most experienced on the matter, and always seemed to manage to get on top despite Blaze’s best efforts.

Their kiss broke for a short moment to suck in much needed air, a thin strand of saliva still connecting them for a moment, before going back in for seconds. Blaze focused on the kiss, and let Spitfire guide her to the edge of the pool, where she laid herself upon one of the padded edges. The sisters broke again, Blaze on her back with Spitfire over her, their back hooves barely dangling into the water now as they soaked the pad and rubbed their wet fur into each other, “You have a strange idea of what entertainment means, sis.” Spitfire breathed, “I like it.”

Blaze simply responded with another deep kiss, their hooves exploring each other's body for not the first time, but despite all their practice sessions, this one felt...different. Not that it was anymore special between the siblings, no, but it was like describing the difference between practicing for a show, and actually performing. In essence it was the same, but the fact that it was show time, made it ever more exhilarating.

Especially when your crowd was the stallion of your dreams.

Speaking of whom, Blaze turned her head to the side, and saw Soarin was still sitting there, though he was now beet red, and his eyes were wide in surprise. He hadn’t gotten up and stormed out, which was a good sign. Perhaps the leaves were starting to take effect? Because Blaze sure felt like there was a fire between her thighs, especially without the water there to cool her.

“Now time for act two.” Spitfire purred. Jumping back off her sister, landing back into the water with a splash, Blaze arched her back as she felt Spitfire’s hot breath tickle her soaked marehood. The fiery mare didn’t waste any time running her broad tongue along her sister’s edge, licking her drenched fur, and Blaze threw a foreleg over her eyes, focusing on the pleasure she was gifted.

Spitfire attacked with efficient ferocity, lapping at Blaze’s inner walls and drinking in her sister’s nectar; the overwhelming scent of cinnamon wafting up and embedding itself into Blaze’s nostrils. But she didn’t really think of anything in this moment, her mind blank as she was overwhelmed by waves of pleasure slamming into her skull like a hammer to a rock. She didn’t care that it was her own sister eating her out, she didn’t care that they were in a public bathhouse with little more than a curtain to hide their lovemaking, and she especially didn’t care that Soarin was watching every second of it, Tartarus, that just turned her on even more. The fire in her crotch burning with increased intensity.

If only Soarin would come over, push Spitfire out of the way, and take her himself. His wide muzzle and broad tongue drinking her up until he’s had his fill. Then he’d slap his hot stallionhood on her belly, rubbing nicely against her clit, before plunging it in without a care in the world. He’d ravage her, using her pussy for all it was worth. Faster and faster and faster.

Blaze bit her forelegs as she came, her walls contracting and clenching around the rod that wasn’t there. Spitfire hummed in satisfaction as she swallowed her sister’s essence as it rushed forth along her tongue and into her mouth. Smacking her lips, she left her sister to recover as she eyed the stallion behind them, “I’m sure she was thinking about you.” She chuckled.

Soarin, meanwhile, was beet red, a rare sight for anypony, even to the two sisters who had known him since their foal days, and Spitfire saw that he was packing quite the hard-on. “Come on Soarin, you can’t tell me you don’t like what you see.” Spitfire asserted.

He was silent for a long moment, and he eventually looked between Spitfire, and a now distant eyed Blaze, “Look Spits...I…” He paused, and his tone had Spitfire faltering a bit, “...I know you two have liked me, for a long time.”

Spitfire’s ears perked, and Blaze blinked away her fireworks at his words, “You knew!?” They both echoed.

The stallion nodded, “I’ve known since high school. It’s not hard to miss. Tartarus, most of the team knows. Especially Fleet.” It was like the two mares had been punched in the gut, but they didn’t say anything, not yet at least, “I didn’t want to jeopardize our dreams of being Wonderbolts, considering Protocol 9 and all that. I also didn’t want to come between you two.” He looked between the mares, “To choose one and leave the other out in the cold. I...just couldn’t do it. Not to those I care so much about.” His eyes looked away, distant.

Spitfire gave Blaze a knowing look, “Well, I wouldn’t worry about that, Soarin.”

The stallion looked back at them, a brow cocked, “But I thought it was against Equestrian law for siblings to marry?”

Spitfire smiled, it was cute that he was already thinking about marriage, and he’d barely confessed his feelings, “We found a loophole in the laws. Back in the day, pegasi clans would often intermarry to keep bloodlines pure. Usually it was just between cousins, or aunts and uncles. But it wasn’t unheard of for brothers and sisters to marry.” She looked back over at Blaze, “And technically, since it was never abolished legally, so long as the siblings are pegasi, it’s legal.”

“So that would explain why you two don’t have any qualms...pleasing each other.” He stood up in his place, his erection slapping his stomach audibly, and wadded his way towards Spitfire, “If that’s the case, it seems you’ve got all grounds covered. And since I’m no longer a Wonderbolt...Protocol 9 no longer applies to me.” He was dangerously close to her now, “So...that means I can do this.”

He lunged forward and his wide muzzle collided with Spitfires. Her wings twitched and her face went bright red as she melted into him like butter on a hot pan. Blaze stood up, Soarin’s words still bouncing in her head, and she bit her lip as she watched the sizable stallion make out with her sister. They grabbed and groped at each other, feeling every inch, nook and cranny of their bodies, their tongues visibly battling within their cheeks, like lovers long denied the others touch, which after all, they were.

Their lips broke contact as Soarin pushed Spitfire up on a pad, similar to how she had done to Blaze, and he dragged his broad tongue along her wet body, nuzzling her tuft, kissing her stomach, and nipping at the flesh just above her own marehood, her golden lips puffy and rosey from her own heat. It was artificial, Blaze knew. They had stuck Fireleaves into their last couple drinks, the plant worked to fire off pheromones that brought a mare into heat. Spitfire had told her about Soarin’s eagerness to settle down and start a family, so they were going to give him one.

Spitfire panted and moaned as Soarin lapped at her, savoring her taste, “Beautiful.” Blaze heard him mutter, and she felt her hoof lower itself down at the sight. Spitfire arched her back, and threw her forearms around the back of his head, her legs crossing to keep him there to attack her entrance. Her jaw slacked, and she let out a quivering moan as she came. Fluid gushing forth and splattering on the stallions face and dripping into the water below.

The light blue stallion retracted his muzzle, and gazed over to Blaze, “Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you.” He left Spitfire to ride out her high, and lowered himself to her lips. She spread her legs for him almost instinctively. Oh dear Celestia this was it.

Blaze froze up as he ran his tongue along her engorged lips, and rolled her nectar along his tongue, “You know, you taste a lot like your sister. Cinnamon.” Blaze knew that was a side effect from the Fireleaves, but she’d let him have his fun guessing, and focus on him eating her out. But he didn’t go down on her with his muzzle, no, he rose away from it, much to Blaze’s dismay, and leaned down where his muzzle was nearly touching hers, “Don’t tell Spitfire this…” He whispered, “But I’ve always liked your eyes more.” He chuckled. Blaze felt her heart soar, and to think she had wished to have her sister’s eyes!

“And another thing.” He ran a hoof along one of her wings, making her shudder, “I know about all the times you’ve masterbated next to my pod.” Blaze felt her face light up like a Hearth’s Warming ornament, “And in the showers back in school, and on the flights, and…”

“Alright! I get it.” Blaze whined, hundreds of memories of her shamefully getting off at his mere presence alone, much less when she heard him sing, or managed to steal glances of his wet form. It was before she decided to start avoiding him, back in the early days of the Bolts.

The stallion chucked contagiously, “I’m honestly flattered. Not even Spits was so bold to do such things.” He leaned down, his breath on her nose, “And I think it should be rewarded.”

Blaze felt his hips buck back, and then she felt it: his member, hot and pulsing as it slapped against her entrance, resting upon her crotch and poking him still. She gulped, it was large, easily above average from what she could feel, but it was his, and she was ready to deal with whatever pain was to come.

He pulled back a bit, a hoof grasping his rod, “You ready?” He breathed. And she couldn’t help but just dumbly nod. Soarin responded with a deep kiss, but pulled away just as soon as it started, and she felt his round head poke at her entrance, and the pressure sucked the air from her lungs.

Feeling the sheer wetness of her marehood, he plunged himself deeper and deeper, sighing at the feeling of her velvety walls. Blaze grasped at the stallion’s neck, a much needed support in this moment of pure ecstasy. Soon his medial ring bumped into her tight lips, he was only half-way in!? She felt so full already, there was no way he was going to fit completely in.

Soarin didn’t seem to accept such a fact, and he bucked his hips a few times until his thick ring pushed itself past her walls, Blaze whining as she was stretched out even wider than before. At least he was taking it slow, unlike many of her other lays and one-night-stands she had in the past, mostly following fits of drunken stupor, and always in her mind was it Soarin who was rutting her.

But now it was the real thing, his head poking against her cervix bringing her out of her depressing memories and back into this wonderful reality. He was breathing deeply, savoring the feeling of her, and Blaze was fine with that. She was filled completely, like a puzzle that's been incomplete for too long, and which now finally had it’s missing piece placed therein. She could lay here all day, just basking in the feeling between them, and she would be content.

Then he started pulling out, dragging his length back, ruining the feeling as he left just his tip in, just to buck himself forward, his member ramming into her hard. Blaze recoiled and tightened her grip on her lover, and quivered under his thrusts. He was going much faster now, pulling out and quickly filling her again and again. She whimpered as her sensitive flesh was assaulted, “O-oh...sweet Celestia don’t stop.”

Soarin grunted, “Wasn’t...wasn’t planning on it.” He groaned as her walls clenched down on him.

Oh merciful Sisters, he was really working it. She could feel the pressure of her climax building, and from his growing intensity and sporadic rhythm and quick breaths she had a feeling he was reaching it as well. Blaze weakly ran her hooves to his face, and guided his glowing emerald eyes to her own amethyst ones, the gems of their irises twinkling in pleasure, “C-cum in me.” Blaze pleaded, “Fill me up. Make me a mother.”

She didn’t know if it was her tone, her words, or it’s implications, but his thrusts increased ten-fold, his heavy balls slapping against her as the sounds of their lovemaking echoed loudly throughout the room. His breath, overwhelming her with the scent of spice and cinnamon filled the air she breathed, and she drew him down to kiss him as stars flashed across her eyes as she came, her pussy milking him for all he was worth. Soarin slammed into her one more time before his hot length pulsed strongly as rope after thick rope of cum shot into her vunerable womb, filling it to the near brim and leaking out into her tunnel.

They stayed there, connected in both body and mind, and they broke the kiss to suck in much needed breath, and Soarin managed out a few words, “You...you were amazing.” He licked his lips, “Beautiful, beautiful I should say.” Blaze didn’t respond, riding out her high, though she twitched as he pulled out his soft length, the audible slaps of his cum hitting the water as it ran from her abused tunnel, “You know...you two never did tell me what this place is.”

“It’s called the Rainwell.” Blaze lazily turned to see her sister there, her face red and her wings stiff as a steel rod, a hoof between her legs, “It’s the oldest bathhouse in Cloudsdale. It’s waters running from the core of the cloud, it’s believed to cleanse evil, grant good luck, whatever.” She panted as she flicked her clit as she pleasured herself, “B-but...it’s mostly believed that...fornicating in it’s waters...ahh...will bless the foals with strong traits and...Oh!...mares with healthy births.”

Soarin looked down to Blaze, “So that’s why the murals...and the curtains...and the padding…” She simply nodded to each of his notes, and he licked his lips, “I see.”

“Well, you did say you wanted to s-start a family.” Spitfire hissed as her back arched.

The stallion cocked a brow, “So this was you two’s plan all along?”

“Yesss.” Blaze half groaned, half moaned as she ran her hooves along her stomach.

After a moment, Soarin shrugged, “Gotta’ admit. It worked out pretty well.”

“I know right?” Spitfire nodded as she removed her slick wet hoof and spread her legs, “Now get over here and rut me, stud.”

Soarin smirked, “Aye, aye, cap’n.”

Blaze felt herself roll over and lower herself into the water. Soarin was atop Spitfire now, similar to how he had rutted Blaze a moment ago, tickling his now hard member against her red lips. “Come on, give it to me!” Spitfire demanded.

He obeyed not a second later as he penetrated her. A shrill scream filled the chamber as he plunged himself halfway into her with one powerful thrust. Wow, Blaze never took her sister for a screamer…

Crawling her way towards them, the splashing of water and the slaps of wet bodies against bodies started up quickly, Blaze lifted herself out and laid beside her sister, who didn’t even acknowledge her sister as she leaned down and filled her screaming mouth with her own, as awkward as the near-upside down kiss was, it just felt right.

--s--

From her place peaking through a thin crack in the curtain, Clear Cover basked in the sight before her, and what quite the sight it was! Soarin was going hard on Spitfire, ravaging her with quite the ferocity for a stallion his age. Meanwhile, the Captain of the Wonderbolts couldn’t do anything but take the dicking and moan as she ate out her sister Blaze. Licking at a sloppy creampie seeping out of her near carbon copied mare’s slit. Blaze, meanwhile, made-out messily with the stallion as he assaulted Spitfire’s entrance. The mating chamber was filled with groans of exertions and moans of ecstasy, and the very air was a thick soup of pheromones and cinnamon spices.

“I’m guessing he took the bait?” Clear turned to see her brother, Cloud Cover, standing there neutrally, his ears swiveling slightly at each moan that was expelled from the trio hidden behind the curtain. And hidden they were, the enchantments on them hiding any silhouettes to give tell of the ponies within, and did well to hide any sounds, voices, and smells that would seep out. But, with her sister holding the curtain open just a few centimeters, it was enough for some faint cries to be heard.

Clear went back to spying, watching as Soarin clenched his flanks and thrust his thick member into her with an animalistic groan, followed by a shrill scream heard from Spitfire even through her sister’s messy pussy. Then there were the soft splashes of excess cum on the water as his baby matter flowed from the mare’s abused tunnel. Even from here Clear could see the sheer amount that he had pumped into her, his seed white as snow and thick as glue, healthy and ready to fertilize anything it touched.

Yep, they were pregnant alright.

Clear closed the curtain and turned to Cloud fully this time, “I’d say so.” She said in response to his earlier question.

He nodded, “So the plan worked?”

She smiled, “Oh, without a doubt. They’ll be pumping out foals faster than a pegasus can say, ‘Angíxte ton Ílio’.” She approached him, their painted muzzles almost touching, “I know something you can pump into me, little bro.” She purred as she turned, running her sticky tail under his muzzle.

Cloud licked his lips and followed his sister. It was going to be a rough night.