“There are two known cures for poison joke, but only one shall make me choke…”
Zecora tucked you under a sheet of leopard print. Looking down, you could see a tent – neigh, a CIRCUS tent – pitched under the covers. Zecora crept from your side and toward her cauldron, where sat brewing a viscous blue liquid. You remember asking about it, assuming it was a cure. Zecora simply laughed as she ladled some into a bowl.
Poison joke was not an uncommon issue for ponies who recklessly ventured into the Everfree Forest. Less common was your unique symptom. Blue spots all over your member – an absurd location for them, but standard enough so far. But for three days now, nothing could rid you of this throbbing, outrageous erection.
Zecora stirred the serum with her hoof, before gathering some on her sole. She slowly pulled the cover down from your neck. A shivering sensation of exposure was boiling inside you until she finally reached your penis. Her eyes lit up in a surge of delight.
“Stiffened rod and spots of blue, poison joke looks good on you!”
She conditioned the liquid between two hooves and – with great effort but an incredibly gentle touch – slathered it over your cock. Despite brewing in a pot over a fire for the last fifteen minutes, it was ice cold. A tingling pulsed across your penis, becoming most intense at the very tip.
“No ordinary sloppy will suffice, your member must first turn to ice. And if you think any mare will do, I have yet more magic in store for you.”
She must be talking about that famed zebra mare magic, you thought. A stifle knelt against your leg as Zecora climbed onto the bed, her head suspended just above your cock. She allowed her mouth to hang open and a string of hot saliva slithered down. As it made contact with the head, the contrast between your cold, tingling penis and Zecora’s body heat produced an incredible feeling only an enchantress could ever produce.
She grinned as she read the look of helpless pleasure on your face and allowed herself to come closer. She planted a single, glorious kiss on your shaft before wrapping her lips around the tip. The feeling was unbearably euphoric, but your struggling was soothed by Zecora’s hooves resting on your own – holding them down almost. Her hot breath restored your member from its cold numbness in a spectacular way, making it even more sensitive than ever. Her tongue swirled around inside her mouth, producing the sloppiest noise ever conceived. When this technique became too routine, which she decided it had by reading your face and your diminishing struggle from the overstimulation, she pulled her lips from you with a wet smack and sat upright before you.
Her neck craned, her shoulders pushed forward and her head bowed. She closed her eyes and parted her lips slowly over your penis, but she did not stop at the tip this time. Her head continued to bow, lower and lower. It seemed like at any moment she might stop – having swallowed all she could – but it never happened. Her long neck just took more and more until she reached the base of your pelvis. Her long lashes fluttered open and she looked up into your eyes. Your pelvis was fidgeting, but Zecora was gracefully motionless.
Then without warning, her head began bobbing up and down, tilting in tow with a slow and steady rhythm which gradually sped to an intense pace. You began impulsively thrusting your hips. Zecora didn’t seem to mind, if anything it excited her. At some point, your cock was routinely exiting her throat and thrusting its way back in, and every time that happened Zecora gagged and choked and spit gathered and foamed over your pelvis, spilling onto your heavy balls.
All of it was just so much. A pressure was building in your loins and a sting surged down your tip. Zecora’s bottom lip was soaked in sweat and drool and repeatedly kissed your balls, which were now twitching in tension. When you could no longer hold your composure, your hooves wrapped themselves over Zecora’s ears and embraced her head into your crotch. Your legs wrapped themselves around her neck too, so she could not pull away as your balls emptied themselves into her stomach. It was the longest ejaculation you’d ever experienced, as if the poison joke was being drained from your body manually. Zecora’s eyes rolled into the back of her head. When you were finally satisfied, you let go of her head and collapsed backward onto the bed.
She slowly dragged herself away from your now flaccid cock, which fell to the bed in a thump dripping in spit. She lied back against the wall, hoofing her pussy in a supreme and drunken lust she hadn’t accounted for. Her face was no longer one of knowing composure, but a stupid and absent daze. It was the last thing you saw before the exhaustion took you to sleep.
You awoke to quite a painful sensation, that of your empty balls being drained for all they’re worth. It seemed Zecora had come back for seconds. Her composure had been returned to her, possibly because she managed to stroke you to completion in your sleep. She did not give you the satisfaction of a real orgasm, as her hoof quickly retreated just as she felt your shrivelled testicles tense up. All that you felt was the stiff pain of a refractory period and a meagre amount of semen unceremoniously drooling out of your member.
Zecora squeezed and tugged at your balls until she’d wrung out every drop, and collected it in her mouth. Wordlessly, she stood up from the bed and trotted toward the cauldron where a new concoction seemed to be brewing. She opened her mouth and dumped your semen into it.
“A vital part of the cure this is not, but side gigs I have and a bag to be got.”
