The urgent grunts and groans reached Raven as she drew close to the door, the sounds creeping out from beyond the thick wood and bringing her to a halt. It sounded like discomfort, or pain, or something else that she couldn't put her finger on, but which sent a shiver through her body nonetheless, stopping her in her tracks with her hand halfway to the doorhandle. Seconds passed, the vocalisations getting more urgent, and the mare felt an odd compulsion to storm in and confront whatever was causing the kingdom's most eminent dragon so much distress or difficulty. Summoning her courage, she closed her grasp around the handle, pulled down sharply, yanked the door open, and bolted over the threshold.
Even as she did it, Raven had no idea what inspired her to barge into Spike's room to see if he was okay. What was she going to do? She was a royal scribe, an erudite mare whose entire life had been spent around scrolls, books, notes, and all other forms of writing, either conjured up by herself or by the countless ponies who'd preceded her either in title or just by virtue of when they were born. She was educated, smart, well-mannered, a great listener, astute, and observant, but she was certainly not a brawler or any good at security. All that to say, she simply could not fight or battle anything more significant than a spider. Even then, spiders were creepy, and she prefered to have a stallion of suitable constitution do it for her.
If something was battling with an adult but youthful dragon, she'd have no hope of overcoming it, even with said dragon's help.
Nevertheless, she threw open the door to Spike's bedchambers to see what was causing him to make the noises he was making, concerned he was being kidnapped or threatened or whatever other things happened to important public figures when they were secluded. Perhaps it was the fact that he was an acquaintance, if not an outright friend, and that level of familiarity gave her the nudge she needed to throw caution to the wind and throw open the door, wanting to stop harm coming to one of the kingdom's most valuable creatures, and one with whom she considered herself to have a closer relationship than the castle's other residents if only because they spoke to one another regularly.
Spike was on his back, stock-still, and she puttered to a halt several paces into the bed chamber from her half-run, the words dying on her lips as they tumbled lifelessly from her mouth. She froze at the sight of his naked body, unblinking at the massive shaft towering over the bed. Horror threatened to overtake her even as her numbed mind blocked it out, leaving it pushing against her outer senses as though pressed against resilient glass. His eyes met her, red-hot and boring deep into her as he lay there, motionless.
Spike yelped first, which caused her to shriek, and they both jumped into new positions, trying unsucessfully to hide what had already been seen and to protect those oh-so-precious social standards that - until now - had remained the bedrock of their professional relationship.
"I'm so sorry!" Raven squealed, scrunching her eyes tightly shut as if it could do anything against the image of the drake that was burned into her retinas. "I wanted to ask for a favour and I thought you'd be alone but I didn't know you'd be doing that!"
"Most ponies knock!" he fired back defensively, the blinding blush on his face taking form in his voice.
"I thought you were hurt!"
"No, not hurt. Exactly the opposite of hurt."
"Well, yes, I know that now."
There were several seconds of silence before a chuckle escaped, followed by another, and then a cascade of giggles and poorly-stimied laughs. Raven's cheek's grew redder, the embarrassment replaced by the exertion of her uncontrolled laughter, and the dragon's cheeks darkened too as he chuckled good-naturedly at their unexpected situation. The silence when they finished was far more comfortable.
"Since you're not hurt...I suppose I should leave, right?" Raven suggested after a while. Out of politeness, she tried to avert her eyes from his naked body, but given how much of him there was on display, it was a chore to keep her gaze to just his face. "If you want me to leave, of course?"
"Are you saying you want to stay?" Spike asked, chuckling and shooting her a boyish grin. Despite the startled surprise he'd started the conversation with, and the remnant of the blush shining through his scales, he didn't seem at all averse to the idea. In fact, she thought he sounded intrigued - though she admittedly didn't know what it looked like when a male showed interest. Maybe she was reading too much into it, and he was just confused as to why she wasn't already out the door.
"I-I meant...I was just trying to say..." Raven stammered, somehow suddenly more of a deer in the headlights than she'd been when she stumbled across him. The situation was immensely intimidating; she'd stood beside Princess Celestia and served her loyally for years, yet the majesty of the alicorn princess of the sun was nothing compared to the sheer power of this dragon. Aside from the obvious fact that the former was always clad in regal attire and was very much presentable, while Spike was currently in the buff, the unicorn was very certain of her sexuality, and the admiration she felt for the princess was very different from the awe she felt when confronted with a young, healthy, idol of masculinity. She knew her type, and large, strong males were definitely what did it for her, even if that aspect of her life had been resigned to her imagination.
She'd been quiet for too long, she realised, her lack of response becoming ever more of an uncomfortable and obstinate obstacle, like a cramp that wouldn't stop hurting until she moved. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't interested; more than just being her type, the drake was a good creature, kind and well-mannered, and someone she'd grown friendly with as he'd stepped up to become one of Equestria's most important royal servants. What more could she ask for in a partner, and here he was, asking her if she had any interest in him. Making her decision, she took a deep breath, and answered.
"I'd like to stay," she told him, taking a tentative step forward. "Do you want me to stay?"
The dragon's eyes at first widened in surprise before narrowing in mischievous glee, and a grin stretched across his snout that made the mare shiver. He looked so fierce and predatory, yet every bit as warm and caring as he did when she passed him roaming through the halls of the castle going to or returning from some important duty.
"I do," he told her, his voice dropping to a rolling, sonorous hum. "If you really want to stay, close the door..." He spread his legs wider, exposing his nether regions to her in greater detail, as if his momumental malehood wasn't already obvious enough. "...and lose the clothes. Keep the glasses, though - they look real good on you."
She'd already made the decision, but his tone was hypnotic, the bassy drawl reveberating through her body and seizing hold of her core in a tender but non-negotiable grip. His words wormed their way from her ears to her mind, the command contained within them raising her arm to push the door shut, the latch clicking shut with a firm crispness. Her legs moved at his behest, moving her closer to the bed, towards him, while her fingers fiddled with the buttons of her blouse, the simple and familiar motion now laden with the inescapable reality of what she was doing. It was a harmless enough action, but given the context, and another creature fixing her with a shameless leer as she closed the distance, the routine was anything but innocent. It was the first time that this wasn't a private act for her, but not even the shake of her hands or the rising heat in her cheeks could stop her.
Her last button was undone by the time she reached the bed, the blouse parting like a curtain to show off the fluffiness of her light grey coat and the softness of her belly, and her red cravat was pulled away from her collar almost impatiently as she strove to abide by Spike's expectations in a timely manner. His tail curled around her leg, sending a shiver through her body, and she hastened her disrobing, wiggling out of her blouse and tossing it and the cravat onto the floor haphazardly for the first time in her life. The spade of his tail nudged her back, calling her towards him as he sat up to take in the sight of her fully. She should've felt intimidated or anxious at his piercing, hungry eyes, deep with a wanton interest and raking over her shoulders and bosom brazenly, but she didn't; the raw admiration sated her need to be wanted, and in such a primal way, too. She couldn't have wanted him to do more - at least, until he did something more.
She'd heard from her more lasciviously successful friends that stallions were clumsy and hopeless with bras, seeming to know nothing about how they worked or were secured, and so she was surprised when the drake's diamond-tipped claws effortlessly reached behind her and unclasped hers, neither ripping the fabric nor scraping against her skin. The even pressure around her chest loosened, and he swept the straps from her shoulders, leaving it to tumble from her mounds and hang from her arms. She swallowed again, a lingering concern whispering in her mind as his lizard eyes bore down on her exposed teats, and the voice only grew louder the longer he appraised them.
"Are they okay?" she asked in a near-whisper, self-doubt pressing down on her like a phantom weight. "I-I know they aren't as big as an alicorn's, a-and I don't know how large a dragon's are..." She glanced at the photograph he'd been holding when she'd burst in, now placed on his bedside drawer - his friend, she realised, with whom it was rumoured he was very friendly at times. "...or a griffon's..."
"Are you kidding?" he asked, breaking his stare to look up at her face. Even though his visage was mired in obvious lewd thoughts and intentions, he managed to exude a kindness that made her feel safe, as if he were conveying a hug through mere facial expression. "They're great."
"They're not too small?"
"No!" the drake assured, a smirk breaking out over his snout at her question. "If you're worried, don't be; I'm a large guy, and you're definitely good enough for me. Besides, I'm sure these have distracted many stallions." Reaching forward slowly, he reached up and grabbed a clawful of breast, his razor-sharp clawtips digging painlessly into her pillowy flesh and sinking far enough to compress her bounty into his palm without cutting her. "If I'm being honest, and please don't slap me for this, I might've gotten distracted by them before. I've dropped a few scrolls because I've run into a table when I should've been looking where I was going instead of at these puppies."
Of all the things that had happened in the last five minutes, that was what made her blush and turn her head away from him. The admission that he'd been admiring her, that anycreature had noticed her in even a slightly approving way, was enough to set her heart fluttering and her stomach to twist into knots. She was plain, she figured; compared to figures like the now retired Princesses Celestia and Luna, who were tall and curvaceous in all the right places but retained the svelte and feminine grace and beauty of a timeless, ageless monarch, or the youthful splendour of Princess Twilight Sparkle, Raven wasn't noteworthy. She was short, coming in at 5' 4" the last she checked, her unremarkable brunette mane was tied in a formal bun, and while she'd never say her face was ugly, she didn't wear makeup or anything to make herself stand out. She'd always looked the part, and that part was the quiet, attentive aide of the monarch, who easily overshadowed her in every way. She wouldn't have thought that her bust was anything to write home about, given that the rulers of the land always boasted cup sizes far in excess of her own - Princess Twilight, the least developped of the alicorns who'd sat on the Canterlot throne, outsized her own D-cups.
The dragon's grasping told her he was telling the truth, though, and that knowledge pushed her to shed her skirt and leggings, and, after a little encouragement from Spike's meandering tail, her panties, too. She didn't have long to stand as naked as he was before Spike pulled her atop him suddenly, the display of forceful strength pulling a startled gasp from her. He was even harder than she'd thought, now that she was flat against him; his scales were smooth and unbudging, her boobs squashed against a torso she would've sworn was tempered steel, and beneath that was the corded iron of muscle and sinew that she'd seen so often as he walked the halls of the castle, covertly stealing glances as he grew into the handsome drake she'd come to know. Not least of all, of course, was the throbbing pillar of meat that put other stallions to shame - or, at least, the ones she'd seen accidentally, when she wasn't supposed to have. His was shockingly hot, ready to be used on her like a brand on a prisoner, and with just how large and thick it was, she felt a nervous excitement grip her.
She was pulled upward, her belly dragging over the imposing shaft as Spike repositioned her with a casual ease that only served to highlight how helpless and vulnerable she was, and just how in charge this force of nature was. His pride felt like it went on for miles, her entire body getting a feel for the length of it before it bobbed upwards between her legs, by which point she was nearly halfway over his head. Clearly not one to miss an opportunity, the drake shoved his head into her cleavage and vigorously shook, letting himself be smothered by her jiggling jugs. Raven rested atop him, revelling in the enthusiasm with which he motorboated her and the implicit attraction towards her it suggested.
"Beautiful," he commented when he was satisfied, removing his face from between her breasts and reaching down to his groin. "I bet you've heard that a lot, but I mean it. They're perfect. Like the rest of you, really."
Raven went to speak, to tell him she wasn't even in the top ten of most attractive mares in the castle, but her words caught in her throat as his tip prodded at her crotch, sliding heavily over her sodden flesh until it met her entrance. His claws closed around her waist, solidifying his hold on her and easing her backwards, guiding her onto his shaft. The sheer hardness of his mass meant that she wasn't going to be able to resist it, and as her hole stretched around his crown, she found herself thankful for the tapered nature of his cock, unlike the blunt pillar that stallions possessed. She had a huge thing for, well, huge things, but with her inexperience, being eased into it was a very welcome start.
A groan was forced from her as her passage was stretched, almost as if the mamouth insertion was making room by expelling all the air from her. She couldn't stop the squeaks and whimpers interrupting whenever he passed over a particularly sensitive spot, the smoothness of his shaft leaving her in a perpetual languid climb of pleasure and the ridges hurrying her onwards. She began shaking long before she'd sank halfway down his pole, losing track of how much exactly was in her, or much else beyond the sheer amount of thick, imposing length of dragon dick probing deep inside her previously untouched passage. When she finally bottomed out, her entrance clenching around his base and her vulva resting against his crotch, she realised that she'd failed to take a breath in the demanding descent, and gasped deeply, hauling in a massive lungful of sweet air.
Spike's hands moved up her body to her shoulders, pushing her upwards into a sitting position. Even that small adjustment was monumental, sending a ripple up and back down her body, like the inverse of if she'd tried to move a limb after laying on it for too long. As soon as she was vertical, impaled fully on his mighty spear, the dragon's hands shifted to her boobs, taking greedy handfuls of her suppleness. Between the stake inside her practically holding her upright and the bold kneading of her pillows, Raven was beset by new sensations that she'd only managed to poorly imitate in her fantasies, which were dwarfed and exposed as pale, fraudulent copies now she had firsthand experience of just what it was to be taken.
"Are you okay there?" the strong, rumbling voice of the drake asked, piercing her reverie. "If you want me to do the moving, that's okay." He didn't sound frustrated so much as interested, and the mare found herself blushing both at his easygoing concern and her shortsightedness in actually doing what she was here to do; of course she'd have to do more than sit there!
"I-I've got it," she stammered out, trying to recall how other creatures acted in this situation. She'd heard from ponies various scraps of information, the gossip and boasts from mares and stallions alike about how their lascivious encounters and experiences, and she tried to put that into practice. With nothing but unattempted advice, Raven lifted herself upward, dragging her tunnel against the unyielding pole embedded deep inside her, each inch feeling like metres of climbing. When she'd ascended to what she estimated was high enough, she let the weight down, dropping with a sharpness she hadn't intended back onto the dragon's obelisk, its tip jabbing at her insides as she did as if to remind her just how deeply he fitted into her.
The first one left her legs shaking, and she had to summon up the strength to repeat the motion, falling into a slow, uneven rhythm of rises and falls, her concentration assaulted all the while by those demanding hands toying with her melons. Thankfully, her body seemed to know what to do, instinct taking over and urging her to swish her hips forward, backwards, side-to-side, to swivel and undulate until she was rolling across his crotch with unprecedented experience. She bounced as well as she could, her body working to some innate rhythm as she rose and fell on his sword, each drop feeling like a leap from a skyscraper and the resulting impact sending bursts of satisfaction through her. She faltered slightly as the dragon's claws pinched at her nipples, tweaking and twisting them playfully and releasing them before the sensation became overwhelming, but somehow she was able to keep to the pace she'd been working at.
That changed when Spike's digits drifted downward, trailing over her belly and grazing her pert little nub. The contact was tenfold the sensation of his fingers working her teets, the sharp zap halting her movements and drawing an involuntary squeak from her. He didn't stop, the overriding ballooning of pleasure grounding her and giving him easier access to her pearl, which only made the intensity of his rubbing that much more impactful. He strummed gently, but even then, the touch of his confident digit against the bundle of nerves was electric, building like a rolling thunder inside her and pulling huffs and girlish groans from her lips, her hips jerking forward responsively. Like an automaton, she gyrated furiously, reflexively trying to maximise her pleasure, to milk more from the thumb flicking her bean as her body became saturated with the feeling of being stuffed and pinched and pulled. It built inside her, towering higher and higher like a roaring, rolling tidal wave, until it suddenly and explosively crashed.
Raven's entire body shuddered, quaking and trembling as the torrent rushed through her, battering every nerve it passed and filling her with a throbbing warmth that oscillated rapidly. The euphoria erupted from her, bubbling from her throat in the form of a flurry of squeaks, squeals, and nonsensical praise for the utterly new height of pleasure, leaving her babbling sounds that might have been words had her brain been doing something other than stewing in the flood of chemicals that had splashed into her bloodstream. Her lower half tightened, muscles clenching tight and releasing in a hurried, urgent delight, her canal wringing the shaft of the beast that had driven her over the precipice. Having spent many lonely nights tending to herself, she could say with certainty that she'd never, ever been so enraptured as she was at that moment, that her clam had never been so determined to massage an insertion as it was for that gargantuan chunk of meat clogging her passage. The dragon didn't stop, continuing to play with her in that unending, precise brush until she collapsed onto his chest and breathlessly fell silent, unable to form words any more.
The hot, pulsing glow that filled her was like a blanket, wrapping her in something ethereal and comforting compared to the hard mass of the male beneath her. She didn't know how much time had passed - it had become an irrelevant and unknowable concept within the cocoon of her afterglow - before Spike asked her a question, the guttural tone of the drake breaking through the bubble and reaching her ears. She murmured dozily, trying to get her vocal cords to work as they should once again.
"I-I'm fine," she answered, still breathless. "C-can't move y-yet, th-though."
"You won't need to," he answered, a low, mischievous mirth to his voice. "Just enjoy."
She didn't have time to ask what he meant before the dragon shifted his lower body further down the bed and altered the position of his feet, leaving no room for questions before she felt the heavy drag of his dick pulling out of her pocket, her frazzled walls humming warmly from the stimulation. She thought that she'd been lifting herself off miles of his enviable cock, but now that it was sliding out of her, she realised just how little she'd actually conquered, and how much he had to offer her. The reality became that much more stark when he changed direction and thrust back inside, a gentle jab that nevertheless sent her canal clamping down, his intrusion nearly as significant as when she'd first sank down onto it. If it weren't from the slight numbness lingering from her climax, there was no doubt she would've collapsed onto his chest again.
Spike sped up quickly, accelerating his hips until the rocking motion had become something far-seeking, a self-serving flex that sent him deep into her tunnel and let him revel in the tightness of her interior and the puffs and whimpers she made. His arms wrapped around her body, sealing her tightly to him torso-to-torso, her breasts smooshed against his stone-chiseled pecs and her head resting against his shoulder as he continued to hasten his pace. His nuts began to slap against her rump with the increasing momentum, swinging up and over and whacking soundly against the soft globes of her behind with every plunge into her quim. They were weighty, even if the impact was dampened by the almighty girth of his schlong, each thrust stuffing her full and sending a sharp swell through her groin and abdomen, and Raven couldn't help but imagine the slosh of the thick cream within as he powered into her. All she could do was groan and squeal, the noises shoved roughly from her throat by the weight of his furious pounding, his rod reaching deep into her to deliver every potent jab at her core. The swift slamming of his crotch against hers and the strength with which he railed her jostled her backwards and forwards in rapid succession, his embrace holding her still and denying her the lurching movements she knew she'd have to endure otherwise, but that did nothing for the juddering of her voice. Maybe he wanted that; the staccato shudder serving as a song to his skill, and one he was forcing from her with his own performance.
Her orgasm was different this time; the first had been a building tension that had spilled over like a cooking pot coming to boil, but this was raw and animalistic. The first felt deliberate, a carefully constructed and executed plan, and this one was just power and repetition. He spoke to her in a feral, base language, and her body answered him in kind, contracting around the monstrous piece moulding her insides and doing absolutely nothing to stop his assault other than encourage him to delve deeper and maintain his speed. She voiced her approval in a meandering tone and volume, the ecstasy that was rushing through her conducting her utterances from the yelps and shouts to the purring grumbles and grunts.
The haste with which he changed position was the only point of complaint she had, though even that made sense to her in her carnally-scrambled stupour. Of course he had to hurry; he was a feral beast, a predator, and he had to make use of her as much as he could. It was his place, and it was right, something deep inside of her knew, a slatternly instinct and intuition resting under her layers of civility and rational thought processes.
Besides, him hurrying meant he was lusting after her, that he couldn't stop himself from diving after his need and desire because he found her so irresistable, and how was she supposed to feel bad about that? She couldn't, which was why when the dragon rolled her onto her back and yanked himself from her tender furrow, leaving her feeling empty and clenching around open air, she didn't whinge or pout, and why when he leapt atop her and plunged his lube-coated pole past her lips, she gladly and gratefully engulfed him. He tasted even better than she'd imagined a male would, the body heat seeping through his cockflesh and pressing against her tongue, her cheeks, her lips, the walls of her maw, accentuating that taste of raw, unfiltered, unwashed strength. She inhaled him, dragging air past his dick and down her throat, the fog of his odour pulled down with the oxygen and laying heavily in her lungs. He tasted heavenly, his presence in her mouth a gift, and so she didn't mind when his crown bumped against the back of her throat, causing her to gag, though it seemed he did, because he pulled himself out and shifted back.
From his new position, Spike let his cock fall between her boobs and mashed the mounds around his shaft. Even fully ensconced in her titflesh, his pole emerged from her cleavage and reached her face, giving her enough to dutifully suckle on while he enjoyed the softness of her assets. The drake began to saw back and forth, slowly at first, but speeding up after just a few seconds. Sandwiched between her breasts, his palms filled with the plushness that spilled out between his greedy fingers, he indulged in the comfort and delight her pillows offered the majority of his staff, and what remained outside the tactile delight of her tits he thrust into her mouth, leaving her to suckle and lick and noisily service his rod.
The grunts rose in volume and intensity at about the same rate his member throbbed, and Raven recognised what was happening moments before the dragon let out a feral growl and shoved his hips forward, driving the first several inches into the pony's gob. With an almighty pulse, a hot burst rocketed from his dick and splashed against the back of her throat, muting all other tastes and sensations she'd been experiencing. The first shot lasted at least a second, and was at least a cup's worth of fluid. The second was just as voluminous, and by the third, her mouth was full to capacity. She tried swallowing the amount that hadn't run down her gullet like a torrent, but for every gulp she took, the throbbing, pulsating prick pushed another load into her flooded orifice. Involuntarily, she coughed, the spasm sending the thick goop up her nasal and bubbling from her nose, and the excess dribbled from around her lips. Her eyes watered from the strain of trying to consume what she was being force-fed, and as if noticing her plight, the drake pulled back, spraying the next volley over her face. It splatted messily, coating her in a thick serving that clung to her fur and drenched her glasses.
With how much he'd pumped into her already, she was surprised that he was able to keep spraying her down, another several eruptions painting her in a depraved screen of sticky gunk that utterly covered her. She felt it in her mane, her vision was obscured by the ivory on her glasses, and every second more was being fired at her. It took ages to come to a stop, the flow lessening until there was just a stream of jizz pouring into her cleavage, a sloppy trail from her head to her belly, where his contractions finally stopped being accompanied by a liquid deposit. She opened her mouth to breathe, and when she did, she felt the silkiness of the remnant spunk clinging to her passageways, and each breath she took was tainted with the hot, heady scent of his ball-batter. The taste of it permeated everything, soaking her tastebuds and filling her throat, her lungs, every part of her that had even adjacently come into contact with the contents of his two very productive testicles. Her stomach felt full, like she'd downed a full litre bottle of soda in a single sitting. The frosting on her face was dense, matting and clogging up her coat and adding a surprising amount of weight to her, and the reek of it hung in the air around her. Taking off her glasses with shaky hands and blinking at the sudden influx of light, she let out a contented sigh.
"Damn," the dragon muttered, sounding a little out of breath. "You look really good like that. I didn't know I was gonna nut like that. It's been a while for me, and you were really tight and made the best noises, so...uh, hope it wasn't too much for you?"
"It was the best I've ever had," she answered, truthfully. She couldn't see his face clearly without her glasses, but she imagined her words had brought a boyish smile to his snout.
"You don't need to flatter me," he told her, sounding happy with her answer nonetheless. "You've already seduced me."
"Who seduced who?" she asked, sitting up and feeling her muscles protest. "Do you have a shower? I think I need one after that."
"As long as you don't mind me watching," came the response, and she giggled.
"You can watch so long as you carry me," she countered. "I can't walk after what you did to me."
"What I did to you?" the dragon scoffed, sliding off the bed and standing up to his full height. Reaching down, he carefully but effortlessly picked her up, scooping the mare into his arms and holding her against his beefy chest. "I was pacing myself because I was nearly done before you barged in. If you hadn't startled me, I wouldn't have lasted even another minute."
"Pacing yourself?" she repeated, feeling her heart skip a beat as he carried her towards the ensuite bathroom. "That wasn't...rough?"
"Ha!" he laughed, grinning down at her. "Next time, I'll show you how a dragon really treats his females. Then you'll know what rough is."
Raven blushed hard at that and fell silent. What could she say? She just let herself be carried and enjoyed the refreshing, stream of the shower as Spike turned it on, the water still colder than her face's hot flush. As she scrubbed herself down, standing on wobbly legs, next to the hunk who'd rocked her world, she found herself wondering what she'd gotten herself into. Part of her was scathing, asking her what she was thinking in bedding the Ambassador of Friendship of the realm, while another part of her was fretting about what this meant for her friendship. A tiny part of her was worried about how sore she'd be the day after. All of those concerns were washed away when Spike's tail trailed over her calves and he reached out to grab a handful of tit, brazenly squeezing her breasts as he lathered soap over her chest.
This was good, she decided, closing her eyes and basking in the comfort of his touch. This was perfect.
