Let Me Tell You 'Bout My Only Vice (It Has To Do With Lots of Lovin' And It Ain't Nothin' Nice)
Gilda checks herself in the mirror walls of the elevator. Stylish crest. Brushed beak. Chrysanthemums. Booze. Everything's set. It's purely out of habit. She's not nervous. She's excited and oddly cheery. Her usual smirk is gone, in its place a full-blown grin. She feels like a different bird. Some douche downstairs bumped right into her, and she didn't even want to cut him.
This is crazy. I'm teats over talons for a mare I met three days ago.
The elevator stops at the sixteenth floor, and Gilda walks down the hall. She takes out the room key for 1615 and sticks it in her beak. There's a spring in her step and a flutter in her wings. By the time she reaches the door, she's practically bouncing.
She opens the hotel room door and sees three ponies inside. Two are young, slim stallions, one a cream pegasus and the other a pinto earth pony. The third pony, sitting down at the desk, is the object of Gilda's affections. A sandy-coated mare in her late forties, light-grey tresses falling down her face, and deep-blue eyes behind frameless half-moon glasses. Mary Pennyworth Mare, Mayor of Ponyville. Heh. Even her name is cute.
“...and before we leave, mother wants to know, will you be attending the panel on licensing tomorrow afternoon?” It's the pinto pony talking. He looks a year or two out of school and speaks with a strong Trottingham accent. There's a cocktail-shaker cutie mark on his flank.
“The one Colton is speaking at? Yes, I'll be there. Anything else I can help with?”
“No, that's everything, mayor. We'll take our leave. Featherweight and I want to sample the bars of Manehattan, and it seems you have company.”
The mayor looks up and notices Gilda for the first time, beaming as she does. “Ah, Gilda! Gilda, this is Featherweight and Pipsqueak. Featherweight, Pipsqueak, this is Gilda.
The griffon lifts a claw to say hello. “Sup.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Charmed.”
Pipsqueak is wearing a serene little smile; Featherweight is smiling with that wonderfully genuine, full-body smile that only a veteran salespony can truly pull off.
“Right-ho, we must be off,” says Pipsqueak, “Thanks for your time, mayor; have a lovely evening.”
“I will,” she replies, looking Gilda square in the eye, “Don't overindulge now, boys.”
“Wouldn't dream of it, ma'am. Good night!” With that, the pair exit the room, shutting the door behind them.
Everything is still for a moment. Gilda is standing awkwardly in the middle of a hotel room, and the mayor, her hair down, is giving her such sultry bedroom eyes that she nearly melts on the spot. The griffon clears her throat and lets out a chuckle. “So, that dude, he seemed...” she starts.
“Like a smarmy prick?” replies the mayor, a wry grin on her face. “Oh he is, but he's got his head screwed on straight and can be perfectly nice once you know him.”
“Hah. I was going to say 'seemed young.'” Gilda walks straight up to the mare, and plants a little kiss on her lips. She can already feel herself blushing. “I, uh, I got you some flowers, and I got us some liquor.” She puts the bottle down on the desk, and holds the bouquet close to her lover's muzzle.
“Ooh!” The mayor darts forward and nibbles at the white petals. “Mhm. Mhmmmm. Oh, those are tasty, I'm saving them for breakfast.” She takes the flowers from the griffon, and plants them in an empty vase on the table. Her glass of drinking water is unceremoniously dumped into the vase along with them. She turns to the bottle. “Grand Mandarine? I haven't had that in years...”
Gilda runs a claw through Mayor Mare's mane. She's been working as a bouncer at the convention downstairs, so her talons are blunted for safety. The feel of the smooth, hard claws going through her mane and down her neck makes the mayor shiver with pleasure. “There's a few griffons from Highfrench with stalls at the convention; I picked a bottle up from them. They're big on flavoured brandies – cherry, cinnamon, pear, rat, plum, apple...”
The mayor raises an eyebrow. “Rat flavoured brandy?” She's not quite sure if Gilda is joking or not. Gilda just grins.
“Mary, you haven't lived until you've tried rat brandy.”
Mary Pennyworth Mare rolls her eyes, and kisses Gilda on the side of the beak. “You look like you've had a long day, dear. Shall we move to the bed?”
Gilda agrees, and they go onto the soft, princess-sized bed, taking the Grand Mandarine to the bedside table as they do. She pours out two generous glasses, and hands one to Mary. The mare takes sip, finds it to her liking, then drains the entire glass in one go. “Celestia, I needed that,” she says.
Gilda takes a long pull from her glass, then sets it back down. “Long day too, huh?”
The mayor nods, her eyes closed, a blissful smile on her face. “Like you wouldn't believe...”
“Well,” Gilda says, smirking and taking hold Mary's left front hoof, “how about I do this, while you tell me all about it?” She presses her blunt claws into the mare's sensitive frog, starting to knead out a huge knot of tension. The mayor struggles to suppress a groan.
“The first thing I had to deal with was Berry Punch, who turned up drunk out of her wits to a panel on still technology at nine in the morning...” She tells Gilda about her day at the convention as Gilda massages her hooves. The griffon is skilled enough to make her sigh, groan and occasionally moan with pleasure as she talks.
The pair spent the day at the distiller and brewer's convention downstairs, at the Grobenstall Hotel and Convention Center in Manehattan. Gilda is one of the event's many bouncers, and the mayor has the stressful task of corralling all the ponies from Ponyville who are in the liquor business, making sure that local businesses get what they need and preventing Ponyville's representatives from bringing shame and recriminations upon her fair town. Both of their jobs are that much more painful because everypony at this convention is stinking drunk, every hour of the day.
Mayor Mary Mare continues to talk about her day as Gilda works over her hooves, moving onto the back ones. She leaves her haunches splayed open, giving Gilda a view of her pink slit, her grey tail flagging across the bed underneath it. Gilda's attention is split between the alluring sight and listening to her lover.
When they met at a bar on the first night of the convention, Gilda was surprised at first by the mayor's brutal cynicism and cutting, bitchy wit. Gilda doesn't have anything against ponies, particularly, but they can be total shrinking-violet flip-flops when they're faced with annoying douchebags who need a good slap across the lips. Not Mary Mare. She's a walking burn book, with plenty enough cunning to keep ponies wrapped around her hoof.
“Mmm, so Applejack goes and has a drinking contest against these two inventors as some warped publicity stunt. It's all well and good; it ends in a tie and draws a big crowd, but then what does she do? She steps off the stage and throws up all over the Fillydelphia commerce commissioner, the one pony I needed to sweet-talk today. The mare was stunned, just ran off crying; I had to miss two panels and half of lunch to find her and calm her down.”
Gilda drives her claws into a particularly tense bit of muscle on her lover's fetlocks, eliciting a soft sigh. “I think I see your problem. You're working with a bunch of fuck-ups.”
“You don't know the half of it. They're a bunch of marshmallow cocks, all fucking useless.” She looks conflicted for a moment, “Oh, that's mean of me. There are a lot of farming families in Ponyville; they're not used to all this politesse and they get a lot of crap thrown at them just for who they are. Horrible, hurtful things.”
“Uh-huh.” She rubs the hoof between her claws gently, just testing for tension at first.
“Things like 'inbred,' 'hillbillies,' 'hicks.'”
“Yeah.”
“'Yokels,' 'cousin-fuckers,' 'incestuous rednecks.'”
“'A few chromosomes short of a family tree?'”
“That too, that's a funny- that's a good one, a good example. Vile, mean-spirited slurs...” They gaze into each other's eyes, trying to suppress smirks. They quickly burst into giggles. Gilda takes another slug of her drink, and pours the mayor another glass. The mayor takes her glasses off, and leans over Gilda to put them on the bedside table. She then puts a foreleg around Gilda's neck, and looks at her with those deep, dark-blue eyes. “So how was your day?”
“Same old shit. On my paws all day, kicking out rowdy dumbasses, trying to figure out what drunk ponies are yelling about, that kind of thing.” She plants a kiss on the side of Mary's neck, and strokes one of her ears with a talon, making it flicker with delight. “I've just been waiting all day to come see you, babe.”
The mayor blushes hotly and buries her head in Gilda's neck. “Mmm, that's really sweet of you...” She's warm and soft against Gilda, completely relaxed from the hoof rubs. Her silky, grey mane tickles Gilda's chin. The griffon wraps her arms around her lover and inhales deeply, taking in the faint smell of her perfume, a light, floral scent. Mayor Mare wiggles her head up just enough to look Gilda in the eyes, her crows' feet wrinkling as she smiles. “Kiss me?” she whispers.
“Sure thing.” Gilda looks down at the beautiful mare snuggled up to her. Beak moves towards muzzle, haltingly, slowly – too slowly – and after agonizing moments, their mouths meet in a kiss. Gilda opens her beak and the mayor's tongue slips in, hot and frantic, as she grinds her chest into Gilda's. The griffon is careful with her beak; the mayor is no frail piece of porcelain but she doesn't want to nip her by accident. Not unless she asks for it.
Mary ruffles one hoof through Gilda's crest as she kisses her, and runs the other through the coverts in her wings. Gilda groans as the mare plays with her wings. She must have been with a pegasus before. No way is she new to this. The mayor is half playful and half crazed with lust, letting out little moans and gasps and sighs, slipping one of Gilda's hind legs between hers so she can feel the heat radiating from her nethers, sucking and gently nibbling on Gilda's tongue.
They continue to make out, hooves and claws roaming over each other's bodies. The mayor is sloppy and hectic; Gilda is a little more reserved, torn between amusement at her lover's enthusiasm and being completely and utterly smitten by it. She places her blunt claws at the back of Mary's neck and drags them downwards through her coat, making her squeal and shudder with pleasure.
The pair break the kiss after several wonderfully lusty minutes and just look at each other, mouths inches apart, both panting with excitement. Gilda can feel the mayor's sex against her thigh – soft, slick and burning with desire. She runs her talons through the grey mane, teasing it out, as Mary kisses and suckles on the side of her neck.
After a few minutes of snuggling and gentle kisses, Mayor Mare takes Gilda's claw in her hoof and brings it up to her muzzle. Her dark blue eyes are unfocused with lust. “I love your claws,” she whispers, then plants a kiss on the palm of the claw, before taking a talon into her mouth and sucking it gently. It feels nice – not orgasmic, but nice – and the submissiveness of the gesture is a huge turn on for the griffon. She moans as she sucks the digit, then slips it out of her mouth and sucks another one, repeating this until Gilda's claw is wet with her saliva.
Gilda grins. It's not easy looking smug when you're that aroused, but Gilda manages it. “That's pretty hot, babe.”
“Gilda... Please...” The mayors brain is a tangled mess of burning desire, barely able to put words to her wants, “I want you inside of me. I want – I want your claws inside me. Please Gilda.”
Gilda says nothing. She kisses the top of Mary's head, then holds her tight to her breast with one claw, while the other claw trails it's way down her front. She teases, gently rubbing circles in her coat as she goes, slowly enough that the middle-aged mare starts to buck against her for stimulation. When she reaches the mayor's nipples, the mayor gasps. When she starts to tweak and rub the mayor's breasts, she lets out a high-pitched squeal of pleasure.
“Mmhhm – Gilda, oh, lower please lower!”
Gilda puts her beak to her ear, and murmurs, “What, you don't like this?”
“Ohhhh, it's good, but you're teasing me...” The mayor takes hold of Gilda's claw with a hoof, and pulls it down to her thighs. Gilda lets her claw hover a centimetre from Mary's dripping sex.
“Do you want it?”
“Yes oh yes!”
“Do you really, really want it?”
“Yes oh please oh I want it please yes ahhhhh!” She lets out something between a squeal and a sigh as Gilda slides two digits into her slit. There's no resistance; she's sopping wet. Gilda leaves her talons in place for a moment, enjoying the heat, the slick wetness and the intimacy. Then she starts to move her smooth, blunted claws back and forth, gently massaging the upper wall of her sex. The mayor moans loudly, frantically bucking her hips into Gilda's claw as her walls clench spastically against the griffon's talons. She tenses up, lets out a soft scream, then flops down, limp against the sheets.
“Did you – baby, did you just come?”
“Ohhhhh...”
“Seriously? That wasn't even ten seconds!”
“Mmh. More. Please?” The mayor looks at Gilda with wide, pleading eyes, and wipes away a line of drool from her cheek. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly. She darts forward and starts kissing and nipping at Gilda's neck, softly whispering thank-yous and begging for more. Gilda chuckles and slips her talons back in, getting a low, throaty moan from Mary.
She starts to claw-fuck her in earnest, slipping two digits in and out, squishing her palm against the mayor's mound and clit. Mayor Mare comes again in less than a minute, her face buried in Gilda's neck, body wracking and thrashing with sensation, thighs quivering and clenching at Gilda's claws. There's a symphony of moans, sighs, squeaky grunts and schlicking noises and the room smells of the mare's musk.
It's like we've swapped places. She's the young, sheltered mare and I'm the older molly showing her 'round the world. Four Winds, she's cute.
Mayor Mare soon hits her third orgasm, shuddering against Gilda in ecstasy. She's soaked in sweat, whipping her head from side to side, her mane fluffing against Gilda's face. Gilda has gone from being surprised by her speed to impressed by her stamina; she's nearing number four and shows no signs of slowing down
“Oh Gilda you're so good please more please harder I want you so much please oh please!” Hearing this, her griffon lover nips at her withers, not quite hard enough to break the skin. “Oh YES!” she cries, her whole body seizing up, then thrashing madly as she climaxes once more. Gilda is really fucking her now, driving with the shoulder instead of the wrist, slamming in and out of her sopping slit. The orgasm doesn't fade; she keeps on twitching and writhing and howling blubbering trails of nonsense.
“Babe, is that an orgasm or a seizure?”
“Hhhholy fuck so good so gyaahhhnngghhhh...”
“...well that could go either way.”
Eventually, the mayor comes down from her peak, bringing her legs together and nudging Gilda's claw away. “Mmh, Gilda, that was incredible. The last time I had anypony that good was... hay, I can't even remember.” She takes hold of the claw that was inside her and brings it up to her muzzle. Looking at Gilda through lidded eyes, she starts to lap her own juices off the talons, murmuring submissively as her little pink tongue flits around the digits.
“You're a pretty awesome mare, Mary. Most ponies freak out about these things,” she says, as the mayor slips the two digits into her mouth. After she's sure she's cleaned every drop of fluid off the talons, she sucks them to the tip, letting go with a *pop* and then shaking her head.
“Stupid ponies. These are magical.” She moves her mouth down and starts licking her fluids off Gilda's palm, breathing hard as she does, practically panting like a dog. When she's satisfied, she kisses the centre of the palm. “Now it's my turn,” she whispers.
Gilda smirks and raises an eyebrow. “Sure you're up for that? It's pretty late, don't you need a warm glass of milk and your meds before you turn in for the night?” The mayor gasps in mock-offense, and pokes her cheek with a hoof.
“Shhh, you. Just lie back and let me show you why small town politicians have the best sex scandals...” Gilda is gently pushed on her back, rustling her wings to find a comfortable spot before just spreading them out to either side. The sight of her wings takes the mayor's breath away; they're truly majestic.
Mayor Mare wastes no time, climbing on top of her lover and then kissing her on the beak. She slips her tongue in as Gilda opens her beak, and they share a short kiss. Then she starts to kiss her way down the griffon's body, licking and nuzzling her caramel-brown coat, slobbering in spots before suckling hard on them. Gilda reaches a claw down and pets her ears as she does it, making her blush and grin sheepishly.
The mayor reaches Gilda's nipples, takes one in her mouth and moans as she suckles it, the vibrations going straight into Gilda. Heh. This is her getting me back for being a tease earlier. She releases the nub, and trails her tongue to the next nipple and sucking it. She does this again and again, until all six nipples are glistening with saliva, and her chin is resting at the top of Gilda's mound.
“Gilda?”
“Yeah?”
“Can I eat you out?”
“Please.”
Gilda gasps as the mayor's hot tongue slides into the folds of her sex. She's been waiting for this moment all evening; it's like the first mouthful of a meal when you haven't eaten all day. Her whole body shivers as Mary wraps her soft, warm lips around her clitoris...
...stares right into Gilda's golden eyes...
...and then begins to suck. Oh Skies Above that feels so good!
Mayor Mare releases her clit, then moves lower down and starts eagerly lapping at her lover's love. It has a strong taste and smell, far more pungent than a pony's, and her juices are much thicker and slicker too. To the mayor, it's nectar from Celestia. She rubs her face up and down the slit, covering herself in her Gilda's scent, marking herself with her lover's essence. Gilda purrs appreciatively.
Soon, the mayor starts licking her sex with one thing in mind: Making her climax. Gilda has to hand it to her; she knows what she's doing down there. She's skilled at this. She uses no fancy tricks, just puts her tongue in all the right places and moves it all the right ways, all while those deep, dark blue eyes stare up at Gilda with that lidded, lustful look.
“Ahhh, Mary, this is – this is good, this is better, better than any griffon, better than any pony, you're – you're better than Rainbow Dash, ohhhhh....” Gilda can feel familiar sensations stirring below, it won't be long until she peaks.
Mary Pennyworth Mare starts rubbing her lover's flanks with her hooves, but other than that she keeps doing exactly what she's been doing. She doesn't speed up or lick harder like an inexperienced partner might; she keeps going at the same pace, slowly building Gilda up for a gigantic orgasm. Only when Gilda is on the edge, every nerve screaming for release, will she lick faster to push her over.
The mayor knows it's time when Gilda's thighs clamp against her ears, and her claws start running through her mane. She licks the slit from middle to top, her tongue firm, hot and unyielding, and feels her lover's hips buck against her face. Gilda starts to shudder and twitch, takes several deep, burning breaths, then tips over the peak. Every nerve in her body lights up in pleasure, she grinds the mayor's face into her sex and she lets out a loud and highly embarrassing squawk as she thrashes in orgasm.
After a full minute of this, the orgasm fades and Gilda goes limp, letting go of the mayor. She looks down at her lover, a lazy, satisfied grin on her face. “How the hay did you get so good at licking pussy?”
The mayor smiles bashfully, mixed fluids and saliva dripping down her chin. “I interned a lot.”
Gilda takes her hoof in her claw, and the mayor wiggles up the bed to cuddle again. They share another kiss, letting Gilda taste her own fluids. Need to eat more pineapple. And less fish.
They both sit up and take a sip of their drinks, then snuggle together. Neither of them hold particularly tightly; they can't, their muscles feel like jelly and the most they can do is drape a front leg around the other. Gilda's crest is a fluffy, downy mess, and the mayor's mane is teased out and plastered across her face. Both of them are flushed and have silly, satisfied smiles on their faces. For a few minutes, the only sounds they make are soft sighs and little giggles.
“Mary? Babe?”
“Hmm?” The mayor turns to her lover and pecks her on the cheek, then waits for her to speak.
There was no easy way to say this. “I – I know this is going to sound weird, I mean, we've only known each other like three days and it's just at a convention, but – but I think I'm falling for you. Like really, seriously falling for you.”
“Yeah?” Her eyes give away nothing. Damn that mare's poker face!
“And I – Well, I just haven't felt this way about another pony, or another griffon, or anyone before. Like, even the ones that were all-right were sorta dweebs. Maybe – I might be being crazy here, and expecting too much from something that's a fling at a convention, but...”
“But?”
Gilda slumps down, a sheepish look on her face, avoiding Mary's gaze. “...but I'd like it – I'd like it to be more. Between us, I mean.” She looks at her mare with hopeful eyes.
The poker face stays in place. “Well,” says Mary Pennyworth Mare, Mayor of Ponyville, taking sadistic pleasure in drawing out the tension, “There's always work in Ponyville for a good bouncer, and I suppose I could clear some time in my schedule – Oh, to Tartarus with the games,” she says, a hint of desperation in her voice, “Will you come to Ponyville, Gilda? Stay with me, if only for a while? Please?”
Ponyville, huh? I'll have to patch things up with Dash. And there's that terrible fucking excuse for a creature, Pinkie, to deal with. But for this mare?
Shit, I couldn't say no if I wanted to.
Gilda kisses Mary on the lips, short and sweet. “I'd love to, babe.”
They don't fall straight asleep in each other's front limbs. They've had a few glasses of very strong, very sugary liqueur and sweated buckets from making love; that's a recipe for a hangover if there ever was one. Gilda gets two big glasses of water from the bathroom, they drink, chat a little about silly things and then get ready for bed together. It was the first night they made love, now it's the first night they act as a couple.
The mayor and the griffon climb into bed. Then they fall asleep holding each other, their tails wrapping together in a gentle embrace.
