Camp Colt

“Oh, no, no, no, no!”

Kettle Corn bounced to her hooves, almost knocking Skeedaddle out of her way as she started pacing and hyperventilating in a panic. She tittered to herself as the boat shook, water splashing waves around them. “How could we lose the paddles!?” she shrieked.

Skeedaddle’s ears turned down in confusion—his mind still buzzing. His vision was all blurry and doubling as his head swam from the afterglow of whatever they had just done. He almost didn’t want to get up, he was too comfortable where he was, but when he heard Kettle Corn mention the paddles, he frowned and looked around, squinting to make his eyes uncross.

“Wh—What?” He asked.

“The paddles!” He heard Kettle Corn scream. The filly stopped her pacing long enough to look into the distance. She stood up straight suddenly and waved her hooves in the air, jumping and only causing the boat to shake and shudder and more water to splash across their bodies. “Hey!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. “HEY! OVER HERE!”

Pulling himself up, Skeedaddle was just in time to catch glimpse of an orange canoe passing at a distance, manned by a couple of fillies from Kettle Corn’s cabin. They both seemed to look in their direction and then erupt into giggles.

Their distant voices drifted in on the waves as the pair paddled along, drawing further into the distance before turning a corner along the coast.

Enjoy, you two~

The giggling trailed off into the distance, leaving them alone with their thoughts—to which Kettle Corn blushed, giving Skeedaddle a glance.

Skeedaddle’s eyes were drawn to a flick behind her and he realised Kettle Corn had just flicked her tail back into the down position—a dribble of their mixed fluids still trailing in little rivulets from between her legs: the signs of their prior activities.

Blushing himself, Skeedaddle rolled back onto his back and took a deep breath to clear his head. Though his vision was still a little blurry at least the stars were beginning to recede and the cool air of the lake was especially helping.

When it was starting to feel like he could sit up again and not lose all the blood to his head, he swallowed and sat up, pressing a hoof to his forehead. His horn ignited to send out a tendril to grasp around the handles of the oars.

“Have you looked—” He stopped suddenly, realising what had happened. He was about to say ‘It’s right here’ but it had become immediately dawned on him that he didn’t know where here was. It was like they had just vanished, or...

Skeedaddle’s eyes turned towards the last place he’d remembered them: off the side of the boat.

But maybe--

His eyes darted to the inside of the boat, doing a quick inventory. Other than the few ropes and life preservers—that neither of them had thought to use—it was basically just himself and Kettle Corn, a filly who was becoming increasingly more frazzled by the second as she awaited his response.

Evidently, the look on his face wasn’t helping matters.

“Oh fuck.”

Kettle seemed to read his mind as she immediately whines. “Oh my Celestia!” Throwing herself against the side of canoe, the whole boat lurched and threw Skeedaddle with her—“I can’t believe you dropped them!”

“W-Wait!” Skeedaddle gasped and screamed at the same time. “I dropped them!?”

He tossed a hoof out and caught himself with a foreleg against the railing—His other hoof almost punched Kettle Corn in the side of the head as he held her back from tipping them both into the lake. He then turned her to face him head on. “Y-You’re going to sink us!” he blurted, then immediately followed up with, “What do you mean I dropped them!? You came onto me! This is all your fault!”

Kettle Corn shot him a glare—her pout more than obvious as she turned a deep shade of red. “W-Well what am I supposed to do?” she said.

Skeedaddle paused to think. Adjusting himself, he pulled his rump back under him and positioned to hide his shaft. Their fur was still matted and sticky, and evidently somepony was still a little too excited to go back inside, so Skeedaddle made a point of hiding his head between his legs.

“M-Maybe if I...” Turning his eyes away from the filly beside him, he cast a tentative string of magic into the water and reached down towards the bottom...wherever that may be.

The lake bed was, unsurprisingly, deep. A lot deeper than expected. It took all of his concentration to reach all the way down, and try as he might, he couldn’t make out anything other than the cold wetness the waves.

There was a brush against his field—an alien texture tickled the edge, and then a skittering as something retreated into the darkness. Skeedaddle yelped and jumped back. Cancelling his magic, he crumpled into the opposite side of the boat.

He had a close miss knocking his head against the railing and Kettle Corn let out a startled squeak—Looking up, he saw the filly staring at him with wide eyes, her hooves pressed over her mouth to suppress the squeal she’d just made. “Wh-What was that?” Kettle asked.

Skeedaddle frowned. Calling back the memory, a chill ran up his spine. “N-Nothing, he said...”

Getting back to his hooves, Skeedaddle crossed the boat—side-stepping around Kettle Corn to get to the head of the canoe. He glanced down at the waves and then up at the horizon, cupping a hoof over his eyes for the sun. “I—” He wet his lips. “I-I don’t think we’re getting those—Let’s just wait. I’m sure somepony will realise we’re gone.”

“Oh, okay…” Kettle Corn sounded a little disappointed, or relieved—there was a certain breathiness in her tone that made Skedaddle raise an eyebrow. He glanced back at her. “Are you ok—”

Kettle Corn was sitting on the other bench—this time against her haunches and curled like a cat as she inspected her... filly bits—Just thinking about them made Skeedaddle’s cheeks burn, and his entire body to get hot and flustered.

His nostrils flared as he watched her press a hoof into her folds and then gently rub up along its length, squeezing a little more the white cream out from her. The thick substance trickled from her opening, smearing on her hoof and dabbing the bench in small blobs, mixed with clear secretions.

“Wh...” Skeedaddle started. He started to move towards her, to tell her to stop, but the words died in the back of his throat as he watched Kettle Corn gently rubbing her lips in small circles in front of him.

This continued for another few second that felt like they would drag on for hours, punctuated by nothing but the lapping of the waves and the gentle schlick, schlick, schlick of Kettle Corn’s hoof against her filly hood. The let out a little hum, and was opening her mouth in a moan when her eyes clicked up at him and she stopped, frozen suddenly.

A bright red blush erupted across the filly’s features—Kettle felt like she’d turned into a tomato—and she immediately whipped her hoof away, clamping her hind legs together, huffing.

“What were you—”

Kettle Corn blushed. “W-Well... I have to clean it somehow,” she said.

Skeedaddle’s jaw worked itself for a second. He remained there for a second as Kettle Corn’s eyes remained trained on him, her blush refusing to abate. Her vision flicked to between his legs and then until, finally, the pin dropped.

“O-Oh.”

And he turned around.

~ ~ ~

The waves were lapping against the side of the boat. A gull squawked loudly overhead as it blew past on the wind and the sun’s light was starting to get dim as it slowly dipped below the horizon, the yellowing wisps of light dancing across the lake’s surface as Kettle Corn looked out over the handrail, the blanket draped tightly over her withers as the sound of the boat’s motor hummed away in the background.

She could faintly sense the whispering of some other colt and filly over the shoulder as one of the camp masters gave directions back to the port, but she paid it little heed—Kettle’s hoof had gone back to wandering between her legs as she wiped gently at the soft mound.

Her body was still tingling slightly, hot and uncomfortable—she didn’t want to say it earlier to Skedaddle when they were in the boat, but her moment of relief had barely lasted more than ten minutes. If anything, finally getting to be with a colt and filled with his... She swallowed. Stuff only seemed to make her condition worse.

Her heart seemed to be racing uncontrollably one minute, and then practically stopping the next—she felt clammy and jittery, and any time she got a whiff of a colt she could feel her tail beginning to flick aside all of its own volition—in summary, to quote her classmates, being in heat was bucking torture.

She pressed her hoof against her labia, gently wiping it up to get a little smear of the secretions. Though she’d done her best to clean as much of it as she could, every time she sat down she could feel a fresh trickle of thick stuff leaking out of her, though it made her curious.

Bringing her hoof up to where she could see it, the liquid was thick and gloopy. It was white and clung to her hoof like a sort of glue and there was, surprisingly, a lot of it. Had Skeedaddle really shot all of that inside of her?

A jolt of excitement ran up Kettle Corn’s back and she felt her tail twitch under the blanket. She immediately started to blush and pushed the thought to the back of her mind—then she brought the hoof absentmindedly closer to her face.

There was just something enchanting about it. About this... Her muzzle scrunched as she tried to remember the right word for it: Cum.

It was a funny word. She’d always heard other fillies in her school talking about it, about their boyfriend’s cum. Usually it was referring to getting it on them, the mess it made, the way it smelled, the way it tasted.

She brought the hoof closer to her mouth. Just a bit. Just enough to get a whiff.

She sniffed.

It didn’t smell bad. It was a bit of a tangy scent, not too different than what she’d picked up from Skeedaddle earlier—another twitch of her tail had the blanket tug at her withers—but like this it was just so much more intense.

Dare she?

Bringing the hoof just a little closer, she opened her mouth just a bit. She stuck her tongue out and angled the tip of her hoof to bring it close to one of the bigger chunks and—

Somepony sat down beside her. “Key, it’s Kettle Corn, right?”

“Ack—! N-Nothing!” She squeaked, just about jumping off the boat—Kettle Corn whipped the hoof away from her mouth and sat on it, pressing the cum into her coat as she turned to address the new pony—grinning widely to cover up her very obvious blush. “I-I mean...

The colt was looking at her with a raised eyebrow but he hadn’t seemed to have noticed anything out of the ordinary, thankfully.

She readjusted her smile, relaxing somewhat. “...Y-Yes?” she said.

The colt in question looked like he must have been at least three years older than her. Her was a pegasus with a light grey coat and a slicked back mane. He looked at her another moment before cracking a smile and leaning back coolly. He ran a hoof through his mane.

“You know...” he said. Scooting a little closer to her side, he looked out over the railing at the setting sun. Kettle couldn’t help but notice the unique scent of the older colt. It was like the smell of fresh dew mixed with upturned morning dirt. It was an oddly earthy tone for pegasus, but that was what she liked about it.

It was on instinct when she leaned her head against his shoulder. A little tremor ran up her spine as she felt his fur against her cheek. It was soft and feathery, like a downy pillow, and oh so—He inhaled suddenly and gently nudged her back to an upright position, shifting slightly to put a little space between them on the bench.

Looking at his face, Kettle could tell his nose had picked something up, likely her. Their eyes met and she blushed.

He continued: “You’re lucky Poppy saw you guys when she did.” He gestured at the lake. “It gets pretty cold out here at night, and who knows how long it might have been until somepony realised you were gone.”

“Oh—Oh...” Kettle Corn mouthed under her breath. Frowning slightly, she lowered her head, ears drooping. “Yeah... sorry...” she whispered.

Just then a cold wind blew over the two of them. It made her shiver and he ruffled his feathers—obviously trying to look like he wasn’t affected by it. Still, she got a smirk when he caught her staring.

He put his hoof over her withers to share in the warmth—as if she even needed it—but Kettle couldn’t bring herself to push him away, instead letting his warm fur rest against her own through the soft blanket.

“I’m Rumble, by the way,” she heard him say. He had held out a hoof to her, but upon looking at her properly, Rumble frowned and lowered his foreleg. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked.

Kettle’s blush deepened. “Ah—” She opened her mouth, but thinking better of it—even as a shudder ran up her spine from the spot his hoof had brushed against her withers—she closed her mouth and turned her head away. “No, no, I’m fine,” she lied.

Rumble furrowed his brow. He was almost five quarters her age. There was absolutely no fooling him—Oh Luna, why couldn’t she have been left alone, just this once. “You don’t look fine,” he said.

‘And you certainly don’t smell fine,’ Kettle whispered under her breath. She buried her face slightly further into the blanket, pulling her pigtails over her face as she did, tugging at the corners to pull them tightly around herself.

Maybe if she made herself small enough and pretended to not be there he would give up and wander off—she assured herself. Still, the smell of the colt was becoming overwhelming as Kettle’s fur started to mat.

Despite the cold breeze she was starting to feel warm under the blanket, but still she held it tight, and still he persisted.

Pouting, he spoke up a little more hesitantly this time, whispering in her ear with a stutter. “Y-You don’t have to be ashamed of it, you know,” he said.

The fur on her mane, her pigtails, everything on the back of Kettle Corn’s neck—even the blanket would have bristled if it could as Kettle’s entire body stiffened. She shot the colt the most disgusting stare she could muster from between the folds, and then slowly pulled the cover away from her muzzle as she whispered back. “Wh-What do you know about anything I’ve been going through?”

He chuckled.

Rubbing the back of his neck, he blushed himself and whispered. “Y-You’d be surprised...” Then, giving a short laugh, he continued... “You could say I’ve had a little experience in the matter.”

Kettle Corn’s eyes widened. She sat up, glancing at the colt with a look of astonishment. “Y-You have?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, blush still not abating—His wings were also conspicuously erect at the moment, and Kettle Corn had to suppress a snicker as the colt fidgeted uncomfortably—evidently, he was having about as much difficulty with the subject as she was.

When he was finally comfortable with his wings behind him—where they wouldn’t get caught up in the blanket, he continued. “I’ve had some experience, mostly through my brother, and, uh—” He coughed. “Taking care of relatives, but I get the gist of it. Hot and an uncontrollable urge to f—”

He struggled with the word for a moment, but Kettle didn’t skip a beat, and she shot out the word in tandem with him. “Fuck”—She was leaning forward, hanging on his every sentence.

Noticing this, the colt leaned back, pushing a hoof against Kettle’s chest to keep her at hoof’s length.

She whined a little bit at not being allowed to get any closer to him—but a little, quiet, sane part of her brain managed to grab hold long enough to correct course as she rolled back onto her haunches.

The bench was getting slick and the smell of her heat was getting noticeable even to her.

She muttered. “S-Sorry...”

“It’s okay,” he said, “Like I said, experience.”

They shared a knowing glance.

The wind picked up and as the boat slowly began to change direction, a cool spray of fresh water was drizzled across Kettle’s muzzle and face—she blinked the blurriness out of her vision and licked the moisture on her lips, letting the little bit of fishy air carry away the scent of her arousal, and a little of the heat with it.

In the silence, she spoke—hesitantly at first. “C-Can you keep a secret?” she asked.

She still wasn’t sure if she could trust him, but at this point, she wasn’t even sure if she could trust herself.

The colt blinked but nodded without question. “Of course.”

“S-Since you... know how this works...” It was hard to think of the right words. Everything she came up with died on the tip of her tongue and Kettle Corn was left sitting there for a second longer, her eyes drifting across the horizon, before she settled back on the colt beside her.

“...Yes?” he asked.

“When I was in the boat with Skeedaddle earlier...” She gestured, gesturing towards him, “Y-You know...” The waters were about as empty as ever, not a single pony to be seen for miles as she gestured a hoof around them. “When we were alone, for...”

She glanced back at the colt only to find him frowning and looking at her like she was speaking in Greek. “And?” he asked.

She facehoofed. “Oh, for the love of...” Letting the hoof drag down her face, Kettle repeated, a little more clearly this time: “A colt. A filly. Alone. In heat.”

That was finally enough, as the pin dropped and he inhaled. “...ooooh...”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“You fucked him.”

Kettle Corn blanched. Blushing, she quipped. “W-Well don’t say it like that!”

“Why not? It’s true.”

“But don’t say it like that!” she shouted, barely above a whisper.

There was a loud clatter of something on the deck that made both of them stiffen—Shutting their mouths, Kettle watched as Skeedaddle rounded the corner behind them, trotting past them with what looked like a mound of ropes dangling in his aura.

She managed to catch his eye and Skeedaddle paused. Sweat beaded his brow as he came to a stop just a few meters away from them. He glanced from Kettle to the colt beside her, and she heard him audibly swallow before he started to back away from them. Then, wordlessly doing an about-face, he continued in the opposite directions, ropes in tow.

She let out her breath, and Rumble spoke up, breaking the awkward silence. “So...” He said, hesitantly at first as he scooted a little closer to her. Kettle Corn caught him eyeing her and a pair of butterflies bubbled up in her stomach. “...You’re saying you had sex with Skeedaddle?” he asked.

She leaned away, trembling slightly from the brush of his fur against hers. Her blush deepened and she almost had to force the words out, squeaking a tiny: “...Yes...”

“Well...” He thought for a moment. “Did it work?”

“What do you mean ‘did it work’?”

“I mean...” Rumble averted his vision, his cheeks burning bright red. There was a cool breeze that blew a fresh spray of seawater across them, and the jingle of some bells announced they were getting closer to the coast. “...Did it end your heat?” he finally asked.

“No...” Kettle Corn began, but then stopping herself, she frowned. There was no denying it. “Well, kinda,” she said. “It did work for a bit, but then it all just came back”—

“I see,” He nodded.

— “No, you don’t get it!” She whined, “It felt worse! Y-You know what it’s like? Do you have any idea what it’s like to be hot and twitchy, unable to stay in the same spot for two seconds, constantly having to—” She licked her lips, unintentionally getting a whiff of the pegasus’ delirious scent. Trying to hold her urges back—she didn’t even care that the bench was drenched. She pressed her thighs together, trembling as she tried to quell the quakes. The words tumbled out of her mouth: “To be constantly thinking about—about—” She grimaced. It felt so dirty to admit, and yet she’d just done it. “Sex. I want to fuck.” Her throat cracked as she looked up at Rumble.

The colt, his eyes wide, opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, grabbing the colt by the shoulders as repeated. “I’m constantly surrounded by colts and I so, so, desperately want to fuck, I need to fuck. I need to fuck y—"

Realising her position she bit down on her tongue, clamping her mouth shut as she squeaked out quickly, “S-Sorry...” Releasing Rumble from her grip, she forced herself to sit back down and pressed her face into her hooves and sobbed. “I’m s-So, sorry... I-I couldn’t—”

Again. How could she have almost done it again?! The second time she finds a colt who it sympathetic to her and all she’s able to think about is f- Doing that thing with him...

Holding her face in her hooves—her rump was still burning with that needful ache, desperately begging her to do something about it. She pressed it into her own fluids on the bench and repeated her apology “Sorry... I’m so sorry...”

“H-Hey... It’s okay...” She felt Rumble’s hoof on her back, followed by a nuzzle as he pulled her into a sideway hug. His scent was all over her, she almost wanted to push him away but didn’t have the strength to do it. She heard him whispering in her ear. “Did you take anything for it?” he asked.

It took a moment for her to put together what he was asking, but as soon as she did she shook her head. “Nu-uh...” she mumbled. Looking up, she felt the trickles of tears wetting her cheeks. Rumble was staring at her with a concerned look on his face.

Kettle wiped her nose a little, putting on a thinly-veiled smile. “M-Mom said she’d get me some of that tea she used when—When she had me, but the store was out. I-I thought I could handle it, but—”

“So you’re just bearing through with it?”

She nodded.

“Th-The things is...I don’t know if I can take it. I’m dying here, Rumble, and—and—If I—”

Her vision started to blur and Rumble was quick to squeeze her hoof, giving her a little hug and smile. He used a hoof to pull her chin up and make her look into his eyes. “Hey, hey, It’s okay,” he said.

“Sk-Skeedaddle—” Nothing was stopping the tears from welling in her eyes. “I just couldn’t control myself. I pounced him, and I-I-I-I know I’m not supposed to, but I had to have sex and I’m worried that he’ll—He hates me—”

“it’s okay, Kettle—” Rumble repeated. He wiped the tears from her eyes and gave her another, much tighter, squeeze—As his hooves swapped around her, Kettle almost felt a sense of relief wash over her, and she inhaled his scent—That beautiful earthy sea air was refreshing, sobering, almost, even with the hormones dancing in the air.

Rumble pulled away from her, sitting back on his side of the bench. He looked up and down her, holding onto her hooves as he whispered. “These things happen.”

“Do they?” She asked, almost incredulously, and he nodded with a conviction.

“Yes. They do. All the time.”

Then he paused for a moment, as if considering something. Whispering under his breath, Rumble said, “I shouldn’t really, but...” Looking back at her, he levelled a question: “The filly’s cabin is the same layout as the colts’, right?”

Raising an eyebrow, Kettle Corn asked, “M-Maybe. Why?”

“A filly’s first time should be special, something shared with somepony you know and trust. It shouldn’t be—” He frowned, looking over his shoulder in the direction Skeedaddle had gone. “Like that—So if you leave your bathroom window open tonight, I promise, I’ll show you a proper time. I’ll help you deal with this heat in the only way I know how, promise.”

“I—I don’t know if I should...

“What if it ends up the same way as Skeedaddle?”

“I’ll make sure it won’t. This won’t be like your first time, okay? It’s entirely up to you whether you do it. I won’t force you, but the offer is there if you need it, alright?”

Just then the boat’s horn sounded causing both of them to jolt to attention. The boat’s engines changed tones as it started to decelerate and the sounds of ponies clobbering around below the deck alerted them to the flicker of torches in the darkness. As if by a clock, the shape of the pier took form out of the mist as they pulled back into the campgrounds.

The sounds of the water lapping against the hull and other canoes rapping in the waves filled their ears. Kettle Corn rubbed her eyes. She pulled the blanket back around herself and stood to disembark.

She nodded back at Rumble. “I’ll think about it,” she whispered.