Author's Note

Fairly vanilla casual sex with some watersports at the end. Implied horniness for Elton John. I apologize for continuing Macintosh's lack of musical ability flagrantly against canon, but I do not recant.

7. Macintosh, Berry's Bar and Surrounds, Hotgust 17th, 1054 GCE

Macintosh's eyes scanned Berry’s Bar. He didn’t see any of his friends except for Fantastic, who was up on stage at the piano, lost in his own world. Macintosh didn’t mind. He wasn’t in the mood to socialize. His… adventure with Fluttershy this earlier. What had that been? A date? A one-morning stand? They’d have sex, sort of, but rather than satisfying him it had left him starving for more flesh.

He needed to think this through.

The things they’d done together kept floating into his mind, bringing with them an aching-hard erection. Scent memories of cum and urine drifted through his nose like hungry ghosts. He found a table in the back. Some alcohol would clear his mind. That was what it did, right?

“Anything I can get you, stranger?” His ear rotated towards the sweet, husky older mare’s voice. His nostrils flared at a smell of mare in heat that wasn't a sense memory. It was her again, that sweet-natured, deep-cheeked waitress from the night before.

“What’s good?” he said. His eyes ran across her body, from her tiny snout to her sleepy blue eyes to the braid that fell carelessly across her shoulder, to the wide, gentle slope of her flank. Her mane and tail were golden brown like a perfectly baked apple pie. Her black apron, tied under her belly, barely hid her swollen, heavy teats.

The mare smirked. “We’ve got a new cider on tap. Really dry. A lot of ponies don’t like it, but it really appeals to a more mature palate.”

He nodded. “Sounds alright to me. And an apple whiskey.”

“You got it, big guy.”

She bopped his shoulder with her hip on the way by. Her soft flesh squished out against his hard muscle like a pillow whacking an apple tryy. An accident? He felt her leaning into it. Probably not.

He watched her backside jiggle away with great enjoyment. He’d been planning to think about something. What was it?

Maybe it was the things he’d love to do to her. Conventional and kinky. Gentle and rough. He kept his hard-on hidden under his belly, shifting it slightly between his thighs from time. Could he have her? He didn’t know. It seemed like it. No reason to hurry.

Except when he came back with his drinks, a little burst of pre shot out the end of his dick. She noticed, too, ears rotating towards the sound of fluid thumping on the floorboards, pretty little nostrils flaring. He pinned his ears. With a growing sense of mortification, he realized he’s basically been masturbating in public. The line between ‘randy young stud’ and ‘embarrassing pervert’ was a fine one, and he might’ve just crossed it.
Big blue eyes met his. She didn’t seem bothered. If anything, her expression was smug. “Anything else I can get you?”

“Eyup.”

“Maybe something off the secret menu?”

His cock throbbed. It was happening. It was really happening. Harmony with a strap-on, he was one lucky stallion. “Eyup.”

“Meet me in the storage room at the end of the hall in five minutes.” She hesitated. “Actually, could you roll over a hair?”

He shifted to one side and lifted his thigh.

“Better make it ten. I need to prepare.”

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

He pushed on the ‘employees only’ door with his head, and found it unlocked. A dim, flickering bulb illuminated the waitress sprawled over a cider keg, looking over his shoulder at him. The upper curves of her buttocks rose live the curve of two moonlit mountains overlooking a deep, mysterious valley.

“It’s been twelve minutes. You’re late.”

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t even get his mouth closed. In fact he might’ve been drooling. Drooling from more than one place. He kicked the door closed behind him. The room was small enough that there was barely room for them to stand tail-to-nose across it. This was not a problem. He wiggled his nose in between her cheeks, up to his eyes in ass before he hit ponut.

“Nasty boy,” she purred.

He grunted, and pushed his tongue inside her. He cupped her pussy with a forehoof; the soft, plump, fluffy mound with its rim of prickly fur dripped lube onto his frog.

“Fuck, fuck…” She moaned. Wide hips churned. Ass muscles clamped the side of his head with a grip that could crack a coconut.

He twisted his hoof to get the leathery edge of the frog against her clit, which was helpfully large and hot and swollen. Her hind leg kicked. He grinned. He might be an embarrassing pervert, but he knew how to please a mare.

“Tongue… she moaned. “Tongue deeper.” He complied. He had a lot of tongue, and he knew all the good spots. “Hoof. Up. Left. Oh Harmony! That’s right!”

A few seconds later, her ass clamped down on his tongue. He kept flicking her spot and pushed on her clit. Thighs spasmed. Her hooves clicked on the stone basement floor, flailing frantically.

“Fuck me,” she moaned. “Fuck me!”

He drew his tongue out of her ass slowly, feeling the muscle slide closed as he withdrew. He raised his hoof to her pussy opening. It felt well-used, stretchy and open, like a lot of things had gone in and out of there. It was still going to be a tight fit. “You sure?”

“I need it,” she moaned.

“You’re probably gonna want to find something to bite down on.” He climbed on top of her. He only had to rear up a little for his belly to clear her ass. His flare nudged her pussy; the opening with all its lube and natural goo barely wet the tip. “I’m serious. Use this broom handle.”

She twisted under him. He bucked. One, two, three times, his thighs slammed forward until her pussy lips finally let him in.

Her back teeth crunched down on the wood of the broom handle.

Sweet Celestia at a bukakke festival, there was almost room for him inside her!

Her walls clung to him, silky, hot. His hips jerked forward. He couldn’t help himself. He tried to be gentle—as big as he was, he needed to be. But her pussy just felt too good! It sucked on him when he pulled back, loose walls clinging to him like they didn’t want him to leave. He jammed himself in again; a thrust like that must’ve rammed her womb up under her rib cage.

The brook handle cracked. He started to worry. “Am I hurting you?”

Her hind legs hopped up off the floor and hooked behind his. The halves of the broom handle thumped on the floor. “Fuck you don’t stop! Fuck me hard! Call me mommy!”

Something in the back of his brain snapped. “Mommy,” he growled. He wrapped his forelegs around her waist and laid into her like she was Caramel and could take a freight train. She stuffed both hooves in her mouth to keep from screaming. Mascara trickled in dark lines down her cheeks.

His balls burned. He clamped down inside, straining to keep from coming, to keep this going a little longer. But she felt too good around him. His flare spread inside of her, his balls clenched, and the flood rushed out of him. He filled her until the load started forcing him out of her body.
When he came to himself again, he craned his neck to get a look at her face. “You okay?”
“I came five times with you inside me,” she groaned. “Three more from your hoof.”

He pursed his lips. That seemed like a lot, but who was he to contradict a lady?

She wiggled and twisted underneath him. “Oh my Luna, what time is it? My break must be over. Fuck, I can’t afford to lose another job for having sex at work. Pull out!”

His flare was still up. He had to yank himself out. He came free with a pop and cum poured out of her pussy after him. He looked at the floor and cringed. He’d cum in a mare in heat. Oh no. Not that he wasn’t ready for fatherhood, but Applejack would be livid.

“Don’t worry,” the waitress said. “I’m on birth control spells.”

✭☆✭☆✭☆✭

The evening only got better. Fantastic must’ve slipped off to do a couple of lines of frosting while he’d been out back with the waitress, because when Macintosh got back from mopping the storage room so the waitress could get back to her shift he was hammering on the keyboard and kicking his whole body up into the air over and over with the energy of a hyperactive pukwudgie. Ponies started dancing. Macintosh had a few more ciders and a few more shots and eventually he, toostarted dancing.

The waitress laughed at him, because he was nowhere near any sort of beat, and then she started dancing with him even though she was probably supposed to be working. Later, they slipped off to the mare’s room where she attempted to give him a blowjob. There was no way she was fitting that in her mouth, but watching her try was exciting enough that he jerked off in her face.

“You’re a beast,” she moaned, cum dripping from her snout and her pony tail, spotting the black of her apron.

He shrugged, grinned, and picked her up in his forelegs to help her lick his load off her face. They did not get it all, and Berry shot him both a dirty look from behind the bar.

Before she went back to work (for real this time) the waitress invited him to meet him when she got off from her other job at Quills and Sofas tomorrow at six.

Staggering out into the night at close, humming ‘Griffonstone Rock’ off key, he almost tripped over the sex box. The edge rammed into his back knee like it was made of marble.

Inside, a soft, androgynous voice yelped like he’d woken the occupant up.

He sat down and rubbed his knee. That box. He’d seen it often enough, with its line of desperate creatures waiting for it coming out the alley and around the corner. He’d always found the idea of using it beneath him. Even when he was having a dry spell. He didn’t mean to judge, but… honestly how did you even got hard for a cardboard box? He had standards. They were low, and idiosyncratic, but they were still standards.

And yet. Right now. He was hard. From thinking about the waitress. Or Fantastic. Or general high spirits.

His eyes narrowed. Three times with two mares was a pretty good day. Why not make it a fourth? With whatever or whoever was in there. Looking around to make sure no one was watching, he straddled the box and poked the ‘ass’ hole experimentally.

“Oh gosh,” said the Box. “You’re too big for the hole!”

“Damn it,” he muttered.

“I’ve never met a creature who didn’t fit before! This is… it’s really exciting. But also disappointing. I’d… um… I’d offer to get out, but it’d ruin the whole anonymity thing.”

“Eyup,” he agreed.

The box fell silent. He stepped back.

“Wait!” said the box. “Do you like… um… pee stuff?”

By way of an answer, he jammed the tip of his flare against the opening. He had a lot of ciders to get rid of. Silky soft lips cradled his tip. A small tongue flitted lightly across his opening.

He grinned. This had been a good day.