Fecundity: The Roseluck Lovemaking Anthology

“Fecundity”

By AJ Aficionado

A gift for Dezmo

I opened the door to my bedroom. Peace at last.

Imagine having eleven foals. Now imagine eight of your foals can fly. Now imagine that they can see in the dark and you live in a treehouse connected by a spiral ramp that goes around and around the trunk so you spend half of your day walking uphill to get where you need to go.

Just another day as an earth pony housewife in Thestralslovakia, the kingdom of the bat ponies.

I turned the knob on the wall next to me. A series of blue crystal lanterns on the wall and ceiling immediately came to life and illuminated the room in a cool glow; bright enough for me to see clearly but not so bright as to hurt a thestral’s eyes under normal conditions. As it was, my husband was wearing special contact lenses to prevent ‘light blindness' but not all of our foals could say the same.

The sun climbed high in the sky behind the thick, dark-shaded curtains, my foals fast asleep being of the nocturnal persuasion — myself as well, if not by choice. My thestral — that’s the proper name for a bat pony — husband Europa was due back soon, but ‘due’ has always been a relative term for him so I wasn’t expecting him for at least another hour or two. I double-checked the wifey-do list I keep in my head to make sure I’d remembered to give my two newest babies a suckle at mama’s teats, and hoof out all the team assignments to the older foals. I was all good there.

Breathing a sigh of relief at finally having a moment to myself in my busy life — I have to say; I never knew how much I would enjoy motherhood or how much it would take out of me! — I withdrew a silver-framed wooden box from my clothing chest bearing my red rose cutie mark from underneath a modest assortment of garments. It was, as it should be, sealed tightly closed. No keyhole or gap between the lid and frame gave any hint to would-be thieves on how to gain unauthorized access.

I gave the lid of the box a swipe across the cutie mark on my ample rump and heard a click emanating from inside. The Canterlot ponies may have been a bit uptight for my liking, but they sure knew how to craft a lock!

Inside, my ancient and most treasured possession, my diary, looked up at me with its many yellowed and dog-eared pages. I breathed in deeply, reveling in the scent of burled walnut, aged parchment and floral fragrance. I gave the book a hug, greeting it as I would an old friend and carried it back to the bed with me, placing it atop one of the two pillows.

Before I could climb into bed and start reading, I heard a door close gently downstairs. My husband had made it home on time for a change! My ears swiveled left and right, as proportionally large and sensitive as that of a fennec fox, to track the source of the sound from the door to the downstairs fridge, where I knew he was reading the note I left him. I grinned satisfied at the thought of the blush growing across his face.

I hooved the old diary under the bed before dimming the lights and burrowed beneath the sheets; my old friend and the thoughts I wished him to share were going to have to wait.

I moaned gently with anticipation, stifling the sound with a hoof as I allowed my tail a moment to flag freely. I could hear him walking upstairs at a deliberate pace, anticipating the prize waiting fully displayed for him in his bedroom like an early, erotic Hearth’s Warming present.

His journey upstairs seemed to take an interminably long time. Not surprising — it had been a long and trying day as life with a large family usually was, and we both needed what we had to offer. Wanting to save myself for him, I resisted the desperate urge to hoof myself off covertly as I laid on my belly, chin resting on the pillow as if I were sleeping.

The door creaked open slowly — we really did need to oil that one hinge — as if I wouldn’t be able to hear it, followed by the sounds of his muffled hooffalls slowly creeping up on me as he kept his touch as light as possible by keeping his wings flared to reduce his weight; his approach audible as the barest of squeaks and scrapes on the wooden floor. A slight jolt followed by a groan of mattress springs announced his presence next to me. My face twitched slightly as the sweet scent of tree pollen and forest fragrance filled my nose. And then I felt it, a gentle kiss to the pointed tip of my ear.

“Sound asleep. That’s my filly.” He breathed huskily into my ear before bathing its length with his long tongue, winding its way around both front and back with the serpentine agility I so loved in him.

I inadvertently shuddered. It’s impossible for me to put into words just how sensitive my ears are to touch, but just to give you an idea, I’ve climaxed multiple times standing out in a thunderstorm from the wind and rain beating against them. So it was that he didn’t relent in his erotic bathing of my extensive auricle, occasionally nipping it gently with his fangs as every part of me fought to keep myself still and silent.

“I could lick you all night, you know, and you wouldn’t remember a thing,” he whispered again. “In fact, I think I will!”

With that declaration, he jammed his tongue squarely into my ear, sloshing it around wetly inside of it wildly, gently pressing a hoof up to my muzzle in anticipation of the move. It didn’t stop me from squeaking with pleasure as I shuddered uncontrollably. I bit into my hoof harder at the sensation, the biological imperative to cum speeding towards me like an oncoming train. Abandoning my silencing efforts, I jammed my muzzle into the pillow and groaned as a stream of floral-scented slickness escaped my winking marehood.

“So soon?” Europa scoffed in enormous amusement, though he didn’t stop playing along. “And yet, you’re still fast asleep. I suppose you’ll need a little help cleaning up after that, yes?” He teased, eliciting a shudder as I imagined it. “No, no. You don’t have to answer! Just leave everything to me…”

I felt the sheet torn off of me and hurled to the floor. I must have been quite a sight, laying shivering in a pool of my own mingled sweat and sweet-scented love jelly, and if the wet spot under my erect teats was any indication, milk. That was hardly surprising. My teats were filled to firmness ever since the birth of my first foal without fail and seemingly no amount of pumping was able to fully drain them.

As much as I loved the feel of them full, sometimes they got a bit too bloated, and I’d need my husband’s help to relieve me in more ways than one.

The crunching of bedsprings greeted my ears, followed by the sound of a pair of huge, leathery wings flapping overhead. His hooves touching down almost soundlessly on the floor behind me projected his intentions clearly. His spit sloshed loudly inside his muzzle as he licked his lips; his mouth always watered when he did so, especially when I treated him to some vanilla extract along its length.

Two hooves came down on either side of me and his wing-thumbs hooked around my torso, dragging me backwards until my teats were dangling off of the bed. Luckily for me, the razor-sharp claws attached to each of them were retracted.

He pinched one of my teats gently with his hoof, a warm stream of milk drizzling into his hoof. “Does your body never tire of sustaining my foals?” he asked as he ran his forehooves through my soft belly fur in an act of intolerable teasing. “I only asked you for eight sons and daughters, but you demanded twenty-four.”

I had to stifle a giggle. I’d told him that twenty-four was my minimum on top of the eight we already had, but I was sworn not to talk until he’d had his way with me. Still, he’d be hearing it from me later for not remembering; the forgetful but loveable goof! I hadn’t been holding on to a lifetime’s worth of eggs to waste a single one.

Or fail to enjoy the act that fertilized them, to say nothing of the foreplay that preceded it. Falling silent himself, he stopped talking so he could tongue at my nipples, eliciting a contented whinny from me. He seemed to enjoy my inability to control myself in his presence and was improvising well. Still, I kept motionless for as long as possible; each breath I drew as slow and deliberate as if I were sleeping like we agreed to do in my note.

A minute of exquisite mammary stimulation later, he decided to start speaking again. “You provide this household our entire stock of dairy as well and still it’s not enough for you,” He paused a second time to begin suckling down my unfiltered momma juice from my other teat as my maternal instincts kicked in again, nickering and snorting softly as he sucked me as eagerly as any of my foals. At that moment, I was truly a mother not just of eleven, but twelve!

Finally, I heard him sigh contently and wipe the milk mustache from his lips with his foreleg. I’d have thanked him if I could, feeling a lot lighter than I had a moment ago but I knew by the time I woke up, I’d be nearly full again.

“Breeding doesn’t merely satisfy a biological necessity for you, Roseluck. It is your very essence and purpose in life. You yearn to carry the seeds of Luna’s winged progeny inside your inner creche and have since before you were born!” He teased my mind with his words and my cutie mark with his tongue, eliciting another involuntary moan as my tail flagged wildly over his head.

I wanted badly to respond in the affirmative. But I did not as my creamy-yellow mounds, still slick from my earlier exertions, began to quiver and wink anew. The pressure inside my nethers, so recently released, began to build once more; my taut, fleshy knob standing silent sentinel duty at my excited entrance.

Its open invitation did not go unnoticed. “And for this, Rose, I reward you, even if you won’t remember a thing that’s happened tonight!” Europa clutched two hooffuls of my soft, ample rump meat and began to massage them as he teased my clitoris with the pointed tip of his chiropteran tongue.

I squirmed futilely as the agile appendage swiped effortlessly across its perky, pink surface, never striking from the same angle twice. Europa was a patient lover and he loved more than anything to prove that just because he had strong genetics and respectable endowment. But that didn’t mean he was just going to thrust himself inside of me like a commoner, pushing my inner walls asunder like a Maregolian battering ram sacking a city on the Equestrian prairie.

Neigh, he would treat his Lady in a manner befitting his royal birth and see to her pleasure first.

It was greater than any commoner like myself deserved, and I loved him all the more for it.

I tightened the floor of my pelvis, collapsing my filly tunnel to get a grip on the slippery intruder, but he cheekily poked straight into my sensitive G-spot before darting away.

Now I wanted to groan in frustration, but I bit my lip to keep quiet. Having teased me to limits, he skillfully pierced my aching slit with his skilled oral appendage again, finally committing to his night’s mission. This time, he began by alternating his concentric circular tongue sweeps from clockwise to counter-clockwise against the erogenous, stallion-gripping ridges that have sucked my husband dry at least once a day since we’ve met. Our friendly sparring quickly had me moaning again as he struck my g-spots again and again, never slowing down and never staying in the same place for longer than a conscious moment.

He slapped my rump with an audible thwap ,sending ripples through my soft, homemaker’s physique as he intensified his tactile tongue work. His initial assault on my love tunnel successful, he moved in to finish me off, filling the room with the sound of frenzied slurping.

There was no need to say anything, even if I was allowed to speak. My body was an instrument in his loving hooves, and he knew every note of our sensual song by heart. I gasped loudly and moaned into my pillow as I came again into his maw. I imagined it as if it were happening; his pouchy, bat-like cheeks so fond of pulping fruit poofing out to accommodate my bounty of nectar until I’d fired my last juicy rocket into his mouth, not wasting a drop.

My imagination was confirmed when I heard him swallow wetly and wipe his mouth again.

He next smacked his lips lewdly; I could practically see him grinning through closed eyes. “As tart and sweet as dandelion juice, like you were on the day we met.”

I took a moment to appreciate that, even roleplaying a stallion violating his wife in her sleep, he couldn’t resist being an absolute sweetie about it. I am nothing if not fortunate enough to be married to this wonderful male.

I felt his shadow on my back as he drew back from me, silent and foreboding, until his forehooves crashed down hard on either side of me with another groan of compressed bedsprings; it was accompanied by. his unsheathed bathood landing with a gentle thud against my spine.

“I think… we can spare room for another foal, don’t you, Rose?” Europa laughed, gently snaking his long, slender stallionhood across my back, reminding me that even down all four hooves — a most uncommon way for a thestral to have sex, preferring their intimacy upside-down like their ancient bat ancestors — he was more than capable of punching through my cervix and ensuring every last drop of his essence filled my waiting womb.

I couldn’t help it. I giggled gently, breaking character as I waggled my rump ever so slightly, inviting him to make good on his ‘threat’.

Despite that, he didn’t stop his roleplay. “You’ve had sex before in your sleep, haven’t you, Rose?” He continued his circular stroking of my stylized red rose cutie mark as he teased at my marehood with shallow jabs, just deep enough to cause me to involuntarily grasp at his stallion meat with my lower walls but not deep enough to grab and strangle it of its precious fluids.

He was right, of course, but I didn’t reply.

“Hundreds of stallions, perhaps thousands have filled your womb while you begged for it to go on… forever.” Europa’s voice strained, not from humiliation as lesser stallions might believe but from arousal. “But for all their efforts and for all their virility, they did not claim your essence as a mare…”

He was absolutely right that none of those stallions had done for me what he had; made me both a mistress and mother. And hearing it, I wanted to hug him so badly at that point; it was all I could do to remain still and silent.

“This you left… for me.” He planted a kiss on the tips of each of my ears before finally giving me what my body had been crying out for since what seemed like endless hours.

“Ahhhn~!” My maresong slowly began to fill the room as he slowly pressed inside of me, striping my inner walls with the kiss of his narrow flare and shaft.

As a very sexually experienced earth pony mare sharing myself with a bat pony, there has always existed a difference in size — and weight — between us. Earth ponies and zebras possess the thickest stallionhoods among the races of equine inhabiting our world, on average. It is simply by virtue of our large size, being fortified by the strength of the Earth herself — the goddess of all living things that spring from the ground.

The bat ponies, by contrast, are the smallest of the races on average, possessing on average a slender, but longer, spear-like stallionhood; even longer than that of the formidable zebras. Instead of flaring before orgasm, locking themselves in erotic embrace against the inner stable walls of their female partners, bat ponies have evolved instead to painlessly penetrate the cervix of their lucky lady partners, most often suspended by their prehensile tails upside down in the “batty style” position.

It is not simply a kink, it’s a long-developed instinct and evolutionary adaptation to ensure reproduction. Rutting upside-down allows gravity to hold a thestral male’s priceless seed inside of her as well as shift his weight from off the poor mare’s back and onto his tail. This has the further benefit of allowing him to thrust himself much harder and much deeper inside of his mate — in this case, me — repositioning himself with the ease of tethered weightlessness.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t mate me the way most other races were used to, though it did mean a lot more work for him when he was rutting me pony style.

Not that I could tell as he changed positions with ease, striking deeply at different angles without any assistance from me whatsoever as the slopping sounds of wet and passionate sex intensified along with the eagerness of my cries.

I moaned and whimpered my approval with each demonstration of his immense sexual prowess, imagining his confident grin as he effortlessly turned me — yet again — into a panting pony puddle. He knew that few bat ponies could please a mare like me as well as he could, and he let me know it on a daily basis.

“You wouldn’t give this up for anything… would you?” He gave a hard jolt, perforating the muscular vault of my womb and sending a trickle of our love juices pouring inside, stoking my building inferno.

No! I thought back to him, willing him to hear it inside of his head and meaning it.

A warning flare was sent up from an aural command and my brain switched to its lowest alert level, my ears focusing on an unseen point in our large treehouse. Target acquired: Hooffalls at 6 o’clock low! Judging by the pace and heavy reverberation, it could only be my middle son, Charon, walking upstairs. Even through the haze of sound and pleasure, part of me suspected, even feared the worst, that he was heading upstairs to see his younger sister, Phoebe, while I was otherwise occupied.

Phoebe — the little terror! — probably put him up to it, having inherited both my uncommonly large ears and sensitive hearing, both of which she regularly employed against me, her kind and loving mother!

No… I was just being paranoid. He probably just needed to use the bathroom. But if I found out the two were kissing each other again, or worse, I was going to need to really put my hoof down. Really hard. But I put the thought out of my mind for the moment.

My rump was really shaking now. The bed slammed up against the wall repeatedly as the liquid slaps of flesh on flesh grew louder and louder; my ears beginning to ring from the sound of my own maresong. He’s close, I knew from long experience, but he pulled out to spare some love for my teats, channeling his pride and glory through the valley formed between my ample cleavage before switching back to my marehood and grinding his considerable length against my nub.

I screamed again with pleasure. By Luna’s tidal mareheat, he was just showing off how good he was by this point! I gave a frustrated whinny, but he just continued to tease me. I can’t say it didn’t feel wonderful to be worshiped this way, assuming I could say anything at all at that moment, but I wanted his load inside of me. My eleventh foal was crying out to be brought into this world, and his need to show off was delaying its conception.

Another alert from aural command: Target ‘Charon’ had halted outside of our room. Danger level increased. While it was by no means a revelation to my family that I had sex regularly with my wonderful husband and had him to thank for helping to bring them all into the world, they understood that interrupting us was only something you did when something very important is going wrong. Family protocol demanded any minor crises were to be reported immediately to an older sibling and we would be allowed to rut each other in peace to bolster their swelling ranks.

My husband, not being blessed with the gift of extraordinary hearing, noticed nothing out of the ordinary and continued grinding against my overstimulated clitoris.

I waited silently for the knock at the door, but none came. Was he waiting for us to finish? I wasn’t to speak or act in any way to imply I was actually awake, but if there really was a problem, I was going to call our night done and deal with it right away.

But still, there was no knock as the silence from beyond the door deepened. What the hay was Charon doing!?

And shortly, I didn’t care at all. “Ahhhhhhhh~!” I whooped with ecstasy as Europa drove himself back inside of me, catching me completely unawares. There was no way Charon didn’t know I was getting bucked senseless. The entire room was an echo chamber of the symphony of love and yet I didn’t hear him leave. He was just standing there for absolutely no reason.

I moved straight to high alert when the sound of Charon’s muffled hoofsteps crept into the room itself. No click to indicate the turn of a knob or creak of a door swinging on its hinges; it was as if he’d walked straight through it. But my son was every bit as solid as I am, which means my silly husband had left the Celestia-forsaken door open again and my innocent, sensitive colt was now getting the peepshow of a lifetime.

And apparently enjoying it from the change in his breathing pattern.

Why did the idea of it only turn me on even more?

“Enough games!” Europa scattered my thoughts as he popped the head of his stallionhood back inside of me and pressed himself back into my depths.

“Ahhh~!” Europa rammed his mare-splitter hard up against my cervical barrier, following it up again and again with surgically precise thrusts striking my most erogenous inner walls. He was done toying with me; he had already gotten me off repeatedly. It was time, therefore, for him to breed his mare.

My handsome Charon gasped, confirming he hadn’t moved at all since I last detected his presence. To my consternation, his introduction to intense sexual contact would be from watching his own two parents. But before I could dwell on where we had gone wrong with him, I felt my cervix open up to receive my husband who roared victoriously as our fluids poured into my love nest like a breached dam. We both came at once, locked one against the other as my inner walls were splattered in his baby batter, flooding my womb with his seed.

He held me pinned to the mattress and pillow as wave after crashing wave of orgasm tried to push him off of me, but his bulk secured his feeding tube until he could ensure every last drop of his seed had been pumped into me, maximizing our chances for a successful conception. When at last he’d finished filling me, he carefully withdrew, leaving my rump pressed up in the air, tail askew with all of our fluids still inside of me.

I expected him to give me the signal at that point, letting me know I was safe to talk again but he didn’t. Instead, he licked the puffy ring of muscles around my tailhole and climbed off of the bed. He wasn’t done with me and neither was Charon who had now drawn in so close, I could hear his heart beating fast.

Charon, I am sorry you’re having to see this! I thought to myself from some still-detached part of my being, knowing that if only my husband had allowed more time for our son to explore his sexuality with the other fillies in our small, forest village, he wouldn’t be spending his days pining for his own sister, and worse, spying on his own mother.

And yet, at that moment, I couldn’t feel more proud of myself for being as desirable as I was to the opposite sex, even well into my thirties. And if I am being entirely honest, the thought of setting an example for Charon on the proper method of pleasing a mare gave me satisfaction the likes of which I’d never felt before.

Not that I’d ever actually have a romantic or sexual relationship with my son, that would be unthinkable! But who could be a more practical teacher for a colt than its mother? I was the first mare he’d ever gotten to know intimately, after all.

My donut-shaped tailhole pulsed with anticipation as the sound of wood scraping against wood greeted my ears. Europa had withdrawn the tube of lube from the bedside table and twisted the cap off with his hoof, carefully setting the lid back down onto it. My husband was not the impulsive type; even in the throes of passion, he maintained an orderly calm befitting his station.

“For the record, I wasn’t planning on getting any sleep today, Rose.” He started dripping the lubrication down into the hole, a pleasantly warm, tingling sensation filling my bowels. “So you can rest for the both of us!”

I was going to Tartarus for what we were doing to my son but I couldn’t bring myself to stop it or even care as my marehood began to wink anew. His still-rigid shaft gently wiggled its way inside of the fortified ring of tissue, aided by copious amounts of lube.

To be sure, I was no stranger to anal sex and indeed demanded it of every stallion I’d ever been with. But my earth pony healing factor not only enabled me to indulge in it almost constantly without suffering a medical emergency, I suffered none of the anatomical issues that constant use of the orifice in such a manner might bring. It allowed me to maintain a fair degree of tightness to make each occasion enjoyable for us both; indeed, earth pony mares have been prized for generations by fellow lovers of the ‘anal arts’.

Now fully inside of me, he adjusted himself to make things a bit more comfortable for both of us.

My son was breathing more shallowly than I could have ever thought possible in an effort to quiet himself. I heard him sidestep ever so carefully, pressing a wing up against the wall to get a better view of the action. I couldn’t see him, but he must have been quite a sight with his astonishingly thick colthood unfurled and dangling just over the surface of the floor, fighting his every instinct to slap it against his belly over and over to a satisfying completion.

It spoke well for his self-control, as like myself, Charon was here with the same mission in mind: to remain as silent as possible and allow the inevitable to continue to its predictable conclusion.

Have to say, it gave me a strange sense of camaraderie with the young colt, who was my second son.

I grunted and bit down on the pillow hard. Every point of contact with the fleshy intruder screamed with pleasure as my body yielded to his persistent penetration; no other pleasure in the world could compare to this incredible feeling of bonding; of loving. I gripped him snugly but softly, letting the tingling lubrication spread itself to every recess of my alimentary tract as he slowly worked himself in and out, gaining a little more depth with his long sensual spear each time.

The slick pops, slurps and my muffled moans along with the cadence of his stallion apples slapping slowly and gently against my feminine entrance were the only sounds that could be heard, save for the labored breathing of Charon, our uninvited guest.

Occasionally he would stop, holding himself inside of me to nip and lick lovingly at my ears and neck. That was something he occasionally did; allowing us both to recharge while we reveled in each other’s company.

It was, for me, an unusual experience until we’d met as nearly all of my previous relationships were defined by the instant gratification of fast and easy sex — being pinned to the mattress and aggressively rutted until the stallion’s will to persist inevitably failed. Both slow and intimate and fast and frenzied had their upsides, but as the unspoken sense of contentment between us stretched on for over an hour, I knew this is what the moment called for right now.

I could only hope my son was taking note and would treat his future wife with such dignity and respect.

“Does Luna speak to you in your dreams, my love?” Europa whispered softly into my ear.

I gave a muffled nicker like a slumbering foal in the midst of a happy dream.

“Only fitting that your dreams should be as beautiful as the world around you, my precious Rose.” Europa’s voice cracked with emotion. “Callisto’s fire burns within you, huntress of the Moon, even if you carry not a weapon nor slay the forest’s creatures for sustenance. Though the Earth and Sun be your race’s affinity, She who hunts the stars has spoken your name — Roseluck: Seeker of stallions. Your reward in the next life is to be surrounded by your many friends and partners. And the legacy of birth you’ll leave behind will bring joy and balance to our world.”

I could stay silent no longer at such a heartfelt expression of pure love and reverence. “I-I… love, you, Europa.” The words poured from my very soul, uninterrupted despite my resolve to remain silent, but he raised no objection. Maybe it was that I’d sometimes whisper his name in my sleep. The fact would surprise me very little. His only reaction was to quicken his pace, pounding himself into me wetly as my inner flower wept with joy, coating his fine stallion apples.

Within very little time, he was driving into me with such ferocity that the bed was again beginning to collide with the wall. We were both primed and ready for another climax and I Intended to make it as memorable for him as possible. Bracing my forehooves to anchor myself properly to the bed, I then dug in with my rear hooves defiantly and began pushing back with my rump in time with his thrusts to get him even deeper inside of me — the first trick of lovemaking I’d ever learned.

His primal scree of pleasure was all he needed to express his thanks as behind us, Cheron began slowly creeping back away from us. But he didn’t leave the room.

Each thrust now came on me like a Manehatten jackhammer, sending shock waves of soft, pony plumpness radiating out across my body like ripples across a pond. Fused beneath my tail, we moved as one will and consciousness. My ears grew sore now from the constant roars emanating from our mouths, the clattering of steel bed frame against the wall of our treehouse, and the schlorping, slippery sound of stallion seed oozing nonstop from beneath my tail.

“Roseluck!”

“Europaaaaaaaaaa~!”

“AHHHHH~!”

I felt the first bolt hit the back of my dank recesses like a fire hose, followed by another and another. The eruption of erotic essence quickly flooded my rear compartment; the spillover running down my marehood followed by my thighs, before finally joining the rest of the sweat and seed on the no-longer clean cotton sheets below.

Our collective cry filled our home with a song of life and love. Perhaps Callisto herself could even hear it!

A loud crash and a shrieking screech of pain and surprise rang out as Charon’s rump bumped up against the door behind him.

We both turned around and saw him wincing in pain. The poor colt had clearly racked his apples on the edge of the door. Charon looked up at us fearfully, his slit-pupiled eyes watery and hind legs crossed in pain.

“Is anything wrong, Sherry Berry?” I asked in what I hoped would come off as a casual, motherly fashion that wouldn’t give either of the males any indication I’d noticed him earlier. “You, er, might want to tell us about it tomorrow. And... and put some ice on that. Ouch, honey, that does look like it hurts, you poor dear...”

“Tomorrow!” Charon gasped before bolting from the room and back down to his room at top speed. He gave us both a good look at his nearly-erect earth-pony-sized colthood dangling a mere inch from the floor before disappearing from view.

A surprised Europa hastily separated himself from me and flew over to close the door with a snap before turning the light back up just enough for me to see.

I rolled over onto my back to look at Europa properly. He’d removed what articles of clothing he’d gone off to work in, giving me a good look at his fluffy crimson coat paired with regal white mane and tail. The corners of his lazurite-blue eyes sagged with fatigue.

“By the Stars above, Roseluck! How long was that lad, standing there!?” He asked, incredulously.

“Long enough to learn how much Mommy and Daddy love each other,” I deflected. “Let’s go to sleep for real this time, loverbat!”

“You let him watch, didn’t you?” He looked at me with mingled exasperation and wonder.

I shrugged back at him. “If I stopped us the second he came in, we wouldn’t have had our fun! I didn’t want to ruin it for the both of us, Euro! Did you want me to interrupt you during that virtuoso performance you were giving me?”

Europa shook his head with a grin. “Of course not, Rosie. Forget I said anything. Sleep sounds good, but a shower sounds a whole lot better to me right now”

“Listen to us, showering after sex. We’re getting old and responsible, you know…” I swatted him on the rump with my tail. He returned the favor by mussing up my mane with his wing and walked up to the showers.

I looked down at the gap between the bed and floor where my diary recording my greatest sexual conquests lay. Europa was right when he called me a seeker of stallions. Tomorrow, I would make time to read it no matter what and write my own full-length novel based on its contents.

And with that last thought, I joined him in the shower for a deep, deep scrub down.