Whiteout

As the festivities for the evening began to wind down, and the various dignitaries and diplomats in attendance started filing out of Ponyville Castle into the brisk autumn night outside, Pound Cake finally had a chance to catch his breath. By all accounts, the Twentieth Anniversary Gala for Princess Twilight’s—now Starlight Glimmer’s, technically—School of Friendship had gone off without a hitch, but only thanks to hours of work on his entire family’s part that started before sunrise and still wouldn’t end for a while yet.

Thankfully, he had some help clearing dishes and breaking down tables from his quasi-cousin Lil’ Cheese and a few other foals from around town, drawn in by a promise of free milkshakes tomorrow in exchange for an hour or two of labor tonight. It was the kind of deal only a child would take, and fortunately he’d found plenty of takers over the last week—including his parents, who begrudgingly accepted his guarantee that a bit of free business now would lead to dozens of repeat customers later.

He was pretty sure it would, anyway. Pumpkin wasn’t, of course, but that was probably just because she wished she’d thought of it first.

In any case, the local kids seemed to be doing fine so far, and “fine” was more than enough reason to let his attention stop wandering and start fixating. Since the moment the train from the Crystal Empire had arrived that afternoon, his eyes had been locked on her Royal Highness Flurry Heart—on her crystalline shoes clinking across the station platform, the sun-spawned blush darkening her delicately shadowed cheeks, her tail as it hitched at the sight of him and her eyes as they twitched away from his every time she noticed him leering.

Most of all, he couldn’t take his eyes off her ass: swaying behind her as she walked, spreading over every seat she took, straining against the form-fitting turquoise dress she’d put on for this tortuously long reception. He didn’t need to imagine what she looked like underneath it. By this point, he could just about feel her molding to the curve of his hoof already, pressing warmly against him like a pillowy cloud soaked by the setting sun.

And now, after hours of looking and thinking and barely keeping himself contained beneath his formal wear and server’s apron, he only had a bit longer to wait. As soon as Flurry’s parents followed the departing crowd, the two of them would finally be all alone.

Well, as alone as two ponies could be in a room full of chattering foals. Close enough. He could work with that.

“You’ll be okay by yourself?” Flurry’s mother asked her, clearly repeating a question Flurry had already answered earlier. Pound Cake had met Princess Cadance plenty of times before, and her husband Shining Armor as well. As used to being royals as they were, they probably knew his name, face, and the fact he’d once been childhood playmates with their daughter, and absolutely nothing else about him. He was just fine with that. It meant he could sidle up to a nearby table and start clearing it off without them even noticing he was there.

“Yeah, Mom,” Flurry replied, and Pound couldn’t help but bite his lip hearing it. She had the kind of voice you could hear shaped into a moan inside your head: sweet and thin with a hint of an icy twist, like a mojito with too much mint. “You two enjoy the dance. I’ll get some dessert and see what’s going on in town.”

“Likely not much, in my experience,” her father added wryly, but he gently steered his wife away as he spoke. “Have fun, honey. Don’t stay out too late.”

“I never do, Daddy,” Flurry said, chuckling with her family at what must’ve been a well-worn inside joke. She watched the two of them depart and pointedly ignored the stallion next to her, who’d dropped all pretense of doing his job in favor of openly ogling her. Once her parents finally vanished from view, she wet her lips, lifted a near-empty wine glass from a serving cart nearby, and let out a sigh after draining it.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to stare at me all day,” she said, projecting her words into the air as if addressing a crowd instead of a single pony.

“Should I have asked first?” Pound unblinkingly replied.

Flurry let out a dismissive chuckle, and she charged every ounce of privilege she had into each of her next words. “For a busboy, you’re awfully cheeky.”

Pound matched her snide tone syllable for syllable. “For a princess, you’re appropriately bratty.”

Slowly, Flurry Heart turned around, chin tilted and eyes narrowed like a viper’s. Blessed as she was with natural-born alicorn genetics, she stood at eye level with Pound, who was used to being a little taller than just about every other mare he knew. “I wonder what my father would think about a peasant like you leching after his daughter.”

“I could ask for his permission too if it’d help.”

Pound felt a tug on his collar, and suddenly he and Flurry were nose-to-nose, his tie trapped within her unbreakable magic aura. “I wonder what I’ll do to you in the meantime,” she growled, each puff of air from her nose tickling the trimmed whiskers under Pound’s.

“I was hoping you’d get around to it sooner,” came his recalcitrant response.

“Insolent little twerp,” she hissed.

“Spoiled little... minx,” he murmured back.

They drew closer, millimeters apart, each awash in the other’s shallow breathing and quickening pulse—and then, somewhere to Pound’s right, somepony cleared their throat. Flurry’s grip on Pound’s tie loosened ever so slightly, and Lil’ Cheese shrank a bit as both older ponies looked his way.

“S-Sorry,” the little colt stammered. “I, um… w-which boxes do the small plates go in, Pound? ‘Cause they don’t fit with the big plates, and, uh…”

“With the soup bowls, in the plastic bins,” Pound replied, keeping his voice as level as he could. “Just rinse ‘em off first.”

“O-Okay,” the colt said. His gaze jumped to Flurry, and just as quickly shot down to the floor. “Hi, Princess Flurry,” he squeaked from behind cherry-red cheeks.

“Hey, lil’ dude,” she replied coolly, as if greeting a neighbor at the supermarket. “Where’s the nearest broom closet?”

“Why?” the colt asked, curiosity briefly overwhelming his embarrassment.

“So I can hide this idiot’s corpse there,” Flurry replied. “So?”

Lil’ Cheese glanced at Pound again. Pound gave him a look that said, Someday, buddy, you’ll want to be killed this way too. “Uh… left out those doors, then the second door on the right,” Lil’ Cheese informed the Princess.

Flurry wrinkled her brow in thought, muttered what sounded like calculations of distance under her breath, then shrugged. “Close enough,” she said, and with a flash of light, she and Pound vanished into thin air.

===

They both did their best to pick up where they’d left off. As soon as Pound felt himself materialize inside a dark and cramped space filled with cleaning supplies, he felt Flurry’s lips crash against his, and then her forehooves and chest. He let himself be shoved into the closet’s back wall, and then he kissed her back, hooking his hoof around her neck and pushing his tongue past her teeth, where her own tongue writhed over and under and all around it. With his other hoof, he groped at every inch of her he could reach—her wings, her back, the swell of her stifle under her dress.

And then, her sighs turned into giggles, and he felt her lips stiffen and pull back into a smile just as his did the same. Barely a few seconds after they started, they were clutching onto each other and shuddering with laughter, so much that Pound could feel a few tears soaking through his shirt where Flurry had pressed her face into his chest.

“Stars, he…” she tried to say. “Holy shit, his face…”

“He thinks I’m dead,” Pound managed to reply between gasps. “He absolutely thinks you murdered me.”

“Holy shit,” Flurry repeated, just before dissolving into another fit of giggles. Eventually, she pulled back to look up at him with glistening, gorgeous eyes, still balanced precariously on her hind hooves just as Pound was. “I fucking should, by the way!”

“What? I did great! I thought I did great.”

Flurry snorted again, grinning like a hyena. “Minx?”

“Oh, come on, you… put me on the spot,” Pound mumbled, burying his face in her hair as he felt his cheeks getting warm. “I thought we’d be gone by then. I had the rest of it all planned out.”

“Awww,” Flurry crooned, extricating a forehoof so she could stroke it against his chin. “You planned out your dirty talk? Just for me?”

“I’m not good at improvising, okay? I–”

He didn’t get to finish. Still smirking, Flurry slid both her hooves around his neck and kissed him again, humming with satisfaction as his lips softened against hers. “I missed you,” she murmured into his mouth.

Pound changed his angle of attack, just enough to press his muzzle briefly against her forehead. “I missed you too,” he murmured back, and then the tender moment was over. She pounced on him, planting her namesake’s worth of smooches across his face and chin, and he responded with his tongue and teeth and hooves, and whatever else turned her melodious sighs into satisfied moans.

With her magic, she finished the job she’d started earlier, slipping his tie free of its knot and tossing it aside. His vest followed, and then his cummerbund, and before long he was nearly naked, covered only by his rumpled dress shirt that, button by button, preserved less and less of his modesty. When the last clasp came undone, Flurry tore the shirt open, and even the dim light inside the closet couldn’t hide the hunger in her eyes as she drank in the sight of his bobbing, rock-hard cock.

“You did miss me,” she purred, wrapping the crook of one hoof around the base of his dick and rubbing the fetlock of the other gently along its length. As she inhaled his scent with half-lidded eyes, he huffed out a sigh of his own, trying to quickly think of a witty, sexy response.

He never even got close. In a single fluid motion, Flurry sank down to her haunches and wrapped her lips around the tip of his shaft, and after that all he could do was grip a nearby storage shelf and focus on not groaning aloud.

After swirling her tongue around his head a few times, Flurry glanced up at Pound and seemed to notice something. “Oh, sorry,” she said, pulling away from him with a faint pop. “Am I distracting you from your dirty talk?”

Pound chuckled, working his wings into a more comfortable position behind him and shrugging his shirt off completely in the process. For lack of a camera, he did his best to burn the image before him deep into his brain: Flurry huddled between his spread hind legs, her wide eyes gazing cutely up at him, and his dick propped against her chin with a thin strand of spit still connecting it to the corner of her mouth.

“Little bit,” he replied once he was done.

“Hmm… good,” she hummed, the vibration of her voice sending delightful tremors through Pound’s pulsating cock. “Not that I don’t like hearing it, but…”

She slid one hoof down to cradle his balls and swiped her tongue over both of them, then slid her lips up his entire length, pressed them around the ridge beneath his head, and suckled hard as she pumped his shaft with her other hoof. A moan punched out of his chest before he could even think to suppress it, and both his hooves shot forward to—at the last moment—-land delicately on top of her shuddering mane.

She pulled back again and smiled. “I like hearing that more,” she said softly, planting a delicate kiss over his tip before leaning forward and, eyes never leaving his, swallowing him all the way to the ring.

Stars danced in the dark of the rapidly warming closet, and Pound’s head bounced off the wall as he lost himself in the angelic embrace of Flurry’s mouth. He had no idea how many times she had done this, but he was sure he’d never meet another mare who could blow him anywhere near as well, or who audibly enjoyed the act so much. When he looked down next, he could even tell the hoof Flurry had stroked against his sack was now buried between her hinds, though it was only visible every other second as her head bobbed back and forth along his length.

She preferred to take things slower than most, lingering for long moments as she rose to bathe his head in saliva, and holding him just outside her throat once she sank back down, long enough that he swore he could feel her heartbeat pounding through her palate. He probably wasn’t the only stallion to receive this treatment from her—this tender, almost obsessive servicing punctuated by exaggerated slurps and reverberating happy groans—but he liked to imagine he was. All the other stallions probably do too, he thought with a furtive smile.

After a minute or two, she paused for the longest moment yet, keeping her lips pressed against his tip as she took deep breaths in through her nose. Pound was about to ask her if she was doing okay, but once again he didn’t get the chance.

With a grin and a wink, Flurry repositioned herself a bit, braced her hooves against his hips, and then pulled his cock into her mouth again. She slid down to his ring and then past it—to her back of her throat and then past it—until her nose bumped against his pelvis and Pound could feel her gullet massaging every inch of him, and beneath that a distant tickling sensation as she let out a tiny elated squeak.

His heart leapt as he squeezed his eyes shut, and if Flurry had stayed like that for more than a second or two, he would’ve blown the load he’d been saving for her all week straight into her stomach. But as soon as she saw him shiver and felt his rod swell against her tongue, she slid herself carefully back off of him, heaving for breath as she blinked the moisture out of her eyes and used her hoof to press his twitching shaft against her cheek.

“You close?” she hoarsely asked him.

He could barely collect himself enough to nod. Even the chill of the outside air felt like feathers dancing across his dick, and the gentle pressure of her frog was nearly enough by itself to push him over the edge. He wasn’t sure it was physically possible for him to be any closer than he was right now—and of course, Flurry knew that. She could feel it, just like she always did with him, and she’d driven him straight to his peak in seconds like he was a colt getting his first hoofjob under the bleachers at school.

This was his reward for eyefucking her all day and forcing this very moment into her mind at every opportunity, until all she could think about by the end of dinner was dragging him off to the nearest dark corner and taking him a dozen different ways. She’d promised him it would work on her the last time they’d met. In his wildest fantasies, he’d never imagined it working this well.

Flurry lit her horn, casting some spell that washed over her in a wave of shimmering light and winked out of view once it reached her hind hooves, then began to gently stroke his shaft, pecking her lips against his head between words. “You felt amazing, by the way,” she sighed, her tongue flicking under his head. “I wish we could’ve ditched that party sooner. I could spend hours with your cock down my throat.”

Pound whimpered—a noise he wasn’t even aware he was capable of making. Flurry jerked him faster, her breath quickening. “And after that, I’d fuck you all night. Make you ruin me. I’d worship you, cum for you…”

Pound’s shaft bucked in Flurry’s hoof. His head was swelling. He was over the edge.

“Cum for me,” she moaned. “Cum all over me.”

The first string of cum to explode from Pound’s cock missed Flurry entirely, splattering against the door behind her like it was shot from a miniature cannon. She shifted in place and tugged his shaft down, and the next blast coated her from horn to chin—and so did the third, and the fourth.

By the time the fifth strand of semen landed on her chest and began trickling down her dress, Pound managed his first sound in several seconds: a strangled groan that willed two more shots out of him and onto Flurry’s heaving belly. The eighth and final spurt wasn’t strong enough to separate from his shaft, but as the pearly liquid slid down his length and dripped off his balls down to the floor, a final spasm rolled through him that wiped away every thought he’d ever had.

He slid down the wall and landed hard on his rump. After several shuddering breaths, he opened his eyes to see Flurry still kneeling in front of him, drenched in what looked like three stallions’ worth of seed and shivering with near-orgasmic delight.

As Pound’s dick slowly deflated, Flurry cracked one eye open despite the globs of cum that should’ve pasted it shut. A moment later, Pound had his silent question answered: when Flurry shuffled herself away from him, his cum floated in midair between them, adhered to a translucent magic barrier shaped exactly like the mare who’d cast it.

After she made sure Pound’s eyes were on her, Flurry leaned forward and opened her mouth wide, licking and sucking at her barrier until she’d collected a cheek-bulging volume of his jizz on her tongue. She disappeared the rest of it in a flash of magic, crawled forward until her chest pressed against his, then tilted her head back and swallowed his load in one gulp. Just seconds after the strongest climax he’d had in months, Pound felt himself hardening again.

“Holy shit,” he whispered as her chin dipped back towards his.

Breathless, trembling, and flushed from head to hoof, Flurry practically ripped her dress off over her head, revealing the sheen of sweat covering her body and the dripping glint of arousal smeared all over her thighs. “I really fucking missed you,” she huffed, and as she kissed him hungrily and spread the faint aftertaste of his sperm around his mouth, she lit her horn once more and teleported them away.