Summer was Icicle Pop’s favorite season. While he’d rather do without either the swarm of mosquitos that buzzed his sleep away, affording him little rest before the crack of dawn, or the ludricously expensive electric bill, the sweat-inducing, jaw-dropping, Celestia-be-damned Summer was, by far, the best season for Icicle. For his pockets, that is.
There were few things, if any, that could ingrain the same excruciating craving for a delicious cold treat in ponises’ brains more than the Summer sun's unforgiving, blistering waves. It created a demand, and Icicle was pleased to supply.
Amidst the dry, sickly grass, empty benches and cracked concrete paths was Icicle’s low humming machines perched in a semicircle. Its owner sat behind them, protected from the weather under his parasol’s shade, cooling off with a cold glass of water, scoffing at the new contraptions in his mechanics magazine.
Icicle’s movable kiosk, while little more than the three bulkiest ice cream carts that Icicle’s meager high school savings could afford, was his most prized joy. It doesn’t take an unicorn with a culinary degree to refurbish a decent refrigerator, nor their overpriced, overrated, miniscule carts to sell ice cream to loud, impolite foals. Icicle’s parents love to differ, but what can you do; some ponies are never satisfied.
The morning in the community playground was pleasant - pleasant enough for the season that is - and Icicle had some time before the nearby school declared recess and flooded him with his favorite clientele: the kind which had deep pockets and weren’t picky.
“Hey, mister Icicle! Guess what, I got another one! I’m so happy!”
Icicle leaned back on his chair, rubbed his face and leaned over his kiosk, squinting at a filly that sported a smile glowing with a foalish glee that mocked him. The blue of her coat and the shade of red on her mane resembled the overpriced paint water sold by a pompous, stuck up ice cream company which shall not be named, down to the white stripe on the right side of her mane and the yellow that they used for packing in her eyes. He didn’t like them.
“Lemme look at this,” Icicle said, snatching the wooden stick from the filly’s outstretched hoof.
A short while after Icicle had established his business, he implemented a tactic that companies of old exploited, back when they were of any merit, to boost his sales and help maintain a customer base. It was as simple to execute as it was to market - buy one of his popsicles, eat it, and if your stick has a “Winner!” printed in it, you win another one for free!
Sure, handing out freebies cut his profit margins, but the results outset the losses. It incentivized regulars to return to his shop, it made his customers happy, and it had that exciting appeal of possibly winning another frozen treat for free. Who knows when you might get a lucky break?
Icicle does. All of the prized sticks were kept in their own box inside his freezer. If something unexpected were to happen, say, a date with a cute mare from out of town, and money was tight, he could always hold back on the lucky sticks until he felt economically comfortable.
And then there’s this filly who keeps hitting the jackpot even though Icicle swore that he gave her a standard popsicle. He would need to label each package at this point, because he never got his desserts mixed up. Maybe her magic switched things around while he was distracted. Unicorns.
“Congratulations for your thirteenth win this week. Would you like another one, or would you like a different flavor,” he said, holding back the air on his chest.
“Wow mister, you remember how many times I’ve won?”
“Yes,” he drily said.
“I do want another one, please! Same one ast last time!”
Her voice grated on his ears ever since the tenth popsicle. Icicle grabbed one at random and gently placed it in the filly’s yearning hoof. She unwrapped the packaging and placed it in the bin - which is the correct thing to do - and sat down on a bench covered by the shade of another of Icicle’s parasols. Ponies wouldn’t buy his desserts if they immediately melted away.
An impromptu count of his inventory found no irregularities. It was possible that either Icicle had mixed his desserts while he nursed his wake-up coffee, or that the box with the prized popsicles fell over while he rushed at sunrise with his cart in tow to secure his spot at the park. Whichever reason it was, Icicle jolted a scribble on his notepad to take better care of his things, lest his money vanished overnight like father’s.
As Icicle scanned a catalog that stripped apart the new freezer in the market, he discreetly peeked at his surroundings in search of potential clients. A little push usually encouraged ponies to part their bits in these dry times; though as per usual for this time of the day, only a small trio of colts played their one-sided version of buckball in the park.
To Icicle’s utter distaste, his least favorite customer - no personal feelings attached - unfortunately approached his cart yet again, clopping an awkward gait, like one does when they’re hiding a blown transistor.
“Hey, Mister Icicle,” she said, “You’re looking great today! Um! Did you get a new manecut?”
“Just give me the stick and I’ll give you another one.” Icicle sighed and held out his hoof. At this rate, he'll spend his weekend stacking stick houses instead of finding a date.
“Well, you see, Mister,” the filly played with her hair and slid a plain wooden stick atop the cart. “I didn’t win this time. Heh.”
Maybe it was time to go consider praying to Celestia again, because miracles were real and they were beautiful.
“Aaaaaaaaah, that’s a shame. Good luck next time,” a serene smile grew on Icicle’s muzzle and his shoulders relaxed.
“About that,” she clasped her hooves together in front of her mouth, concealing a tiny, awkward grin. “I only have three bits left with me - but I was thinking if you could let me buy another one. I’ll bring you the rest once dad gives me my next allowance, I promise you !”
“Filly, you already ate three popsicles today,” Icicle dismissed her. “Either take it easy on your stomach or come back later when you have the money. I can’t let you off the hook without paying me for my work.”
“I’m not going to steal from you!” she said, ears sprawled backwards. “I told you that I’ll pay you back next time!”
“Listen. You’re my regular, so I’m going to pour out my trust on you and assume that you would honor your word. Because - and keep this between the two of us - that’s what I used to do when I was your age-”
“Wow, that long ago?”
“Shush, I’m only nineteen.” Icicle ignored the sparkly-eyed filly and continued. “If I give you a discount, you gotta realize - I’d have to give the same offer to all of my other regulars, too. Fair’s fair. And I can’t afford fair.”
“But-but-but today’s so hot!” the corner of the filly’s eyes shone with tears and her mouth curled into a pout. “The freezer back home broke, and sis hoarded all of the cold water from the tub!”
“Tough break, filly. Everypony’s suffering because of the heat, and I can’t give out charity like the princesses,” said the stallion. He licked his lips as an idea hit his cranium. “Tell you what, I’ll be here again tomorrow. If you bring your friends over, I’ll cut the price down for you.”
So that he can make an actual profit off of her.
“Can’t you give out the discount today? Please, Mister Icicle?”
“I said, I’ll cut you a deal if you bring some ponies over. Sorry, filly, but I’m running a business here. You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.”
“Can’t you do me this favor just this once?” she continued with the most imploring, most adorable of voices and a shimmer to her eyes. “I’ll do anything that you want, anything!”
“Sorry, but favors won’t pay for my dinner.” Icicle leaned back on his chair and flipped through his magazine, tired of dead-end back-and-forths.
“I can suck your dick, if you want!”
Those couple of words tugged Icicle’s ears upwards. He stopped scrutinizing the machine on display, laid the magazine down then slowly leaned his upper body on his kiosk.
“Pardon?” he said.
“I’m really good at it! You’ll like it!”
Chest swollen with pride, the filly beamed brightly and wagged her tail lo and fro. Her act was cute, definitely one of the cutest he’d seen after working with foals all these years, and, it is safe to say, didn’t fit the character of the offer that he picked up. Perhaps he should invest in a fan to stave off the heat, it was probably scrambling his head.
“Excusez-moi?" he repeated.
“Please, I’m telling the truth! If you give me an ice cream cup, I-I’ll even let you finish inside. Promise!”
“Filly - filly.” The churn on Icicle’s stomach relaxed after his eyes met nopony nearby. “Do you even know what you’re talking about?”
“Duh! My friends and I have done it before. The colts like me the most!”
“Fi-” Sputter caught in Icicle’s throat, cleared a second later after a few coughs. “What in tartarus are doing sucking colts off? What are you, ten?”
"Sometimes I forget to do my homework… So I ask the colts to copy theirs!" The filly says, as shamelessly innocent as one can be. "Also yes, I am!"
"Just to copy answers? You're pulling my leg here."
Eyebrows lowered and smiles faltered, the filly's voice lowered to a whisper and admitted: "Ok, I cheat in exams too. I don’t like math. But- don't tell anypony, ok?" She said, "My parents will kill me!"
If he were any younger, Icicle would have killed his parents to enroll him in her school. It didn't take him long to find a filly that spread her legs out for him, but these foals were breaking records.
“You’re messing with me. You shouldn’t joke about stuff like that around adults, filly,” said Icicle with his eyes turned away from the temptress.
“I’m not lying, though!” she said, “I’ve even done that with my ex-coltfriend, once!”
Dumbfounded by the sudden and slightly immoral proposition, Icicle pondered his options. She’s cute enough, she’s willing, she’s cheap, she’s a filly and the slightest touch, innocent or not, could land him in a courtroom. Perhaps it was lousy to even consider her offer, even more so to blame it on the months since his last break up.
"Do you want it?" she said, hoof raised.
“Shhh. I’m thinking. I’m thinking.”
There was ample time before the school opened and flooded the park with foals. The trio of colts were distracted by their play at the edges of the playground. Nopony else cantered at this hour.
The deal was good, one-sided. Foals were naive, even when they pretended otherwise. This could be the real thing. Jail. Blowjob. Jail. Filly mouth. Jail. Blue balls.
Fuck it.
“You better not be messing with me,” Icicle cut the filly with his stare. “Deal, now come over here.”
Pep in her gait and an earnest smile on her face, the filly rounded the carts as Icicle lowered the parasol’s height right above his head to cloake them in shadows. The stallion leaned over the front of his cart and spread his hindlegs to expose his sweaty genitals, which were poked soon after by a bold, soft muzzle.
“You’re not hard?” she said with her nose under his sack.
“I’m not a quick-shot colt, kiss it ‘til it grows.”
Obediently, the filly spread sloppy kisses aimlessly on his bits. While not as pleasant as an experienced mare’s tongue bathing his balls, his hunger for a female touch had little to complain about.
“You stink…” she said.
“Suck it up.”
Icicle’s worry that her inexperience would lead to some difficulties was dismissed once her earnest kisses jittered his junk. Maybe this was the birth of a new kink. At first reserved, his cock grew into a chub and slipped out of his sheathe, and as soon as it saw the light of day, the filly engulfed its tip in her mouth and suckled him.
A lack of teeth so far gave credit to the filly’s boasts, no common playground foal would know how to work around a stallion’s sensibility otherwise. A relieved sigh escaped his lips, yet his shoulders stiffened as the outside breeze brushed his family jewels. As unexpected as it was to think about it, for somepony half his age, his customer was more used to the outdoors than him.
Icicle’s cock pumped into a full mast, hardened like steel for the first time in weeks, dragged his partner’s head backwards until her back hit against the cold cart’s side. She spat it, coughed, and grabbed it.
“You’re - cough - You’re so big!” she ran her hooves up its length and rubbed his medial ring. “The biggest colt in my class is- like- almost half your size!”
“I’m a stallion,” he said, eyes vigilant on the horizon. “Suck it, we don’t have all day.”
The filly, now less outspoken about his smell, lifted his dick with her wet muzzle and made herself busy sniffing it from its head to his nuts; the appreciation was well-received, but a park’s garden was not the place for worship. Icicle thrust his hips - his dick slapped against his belly and his scrotes against her face.
“Get on with it already,” he whispered harshly, “and be quick!”
“S-Sorry, Mister Icicle.”
“Don’t call me that.”
Icicle spied the little lap warmer engulfing his head with her mouth wide open. Her tongue was slick, smooth, and most delicious of all, curious; curious to discover and learn. She showed more enthusiasm than some of his exes bothered with - she spared no places and reached everywhere her tiny tongue allowed her to. The colts at her school couldn't have lasted any longer than a few minutes with her, no wonder she boasts of her popularity.
But Icicle was no foal, and he had stamina to last more than a ten second lollypop service. His rump moved forward and she bobbed in response. Her reach was shallow and her teeth were uncomfortably close, but her lips were tight and her pace was fast. He might reek, but she suckled it like a newborn baby anyways.
Icicle sighed contently. His hoof descended from the top of the kiosk to a flock of mane, clasped it tightly, yanked herit further into his erection. The filly gasped a cough and tried to escape impalement - his grip was stronger than her.
“Deeper, babe. Suck my cock deeper,” Icicle gave his attention to the puffy-cheeked foal and caressed her scalp. “Fuck, like that. You’re good.”
Despite her flaring desperate nostrils, sucking up as much as they could, her cheeks calmed. Meekly and slowly, the filly nodded his cock; she accepted his length into her throat as he guided her to do so, peacefully gurgling on his pre-cum and her own saliva.
“Like that, babe. You’re doing well. Fucking- keep at it.”
Her eyes shimmered as she gave him the sultriest look Icicle had seen in somepony her age. Deep and deeper, she inhaled farther and her mouth relaxed; Icicle steadily shoved more of his cock into her throat, and she received it well. Spit clung around his shaft, most of which she sucked back in, the rest fell to the ground.
“Hey, mister, are you ok?”
Startled awake far harder than any nightmare he ever had, Icicle clutched the top of his cart and almost spat at the little colt in front of him. The foal wore the local buckball team shirt, a frown of concern and held a ball in his magic. Icicle cursed - tried to - at his gonads for taking over his head, the proper one.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m- uh, good. What’s up?”
Through the low humm of his machines, a filly moaned and slurped brazenly; quiet enough to lose itself in the white noise, loud enough for it to drum on Icicle's ears and heart.
“Nothing, my ball dropped here,” the colt said, “and you looked out of it. Are you drinking water? Mum told me that plenty is never enough.”
She sucked, she licked - Icicle’s hoof stopped shoving her head but she persisted. The filly nursed his erection, unaware or apathetic towards the intrusion at hoof.
“Yeah, I am. Just- It’s a bit hot today, y’know? I got plenty of water in my freezer, I just need some rest.”
“Oh, ok! Take care, mister!”
As suddenly as he came, the visitor trotted into the distance, far enough that Icicle could attempt to calm his aching heart. His face slid down to the cart, masked his moans with pained grunts, bucked his hips and honeyed his ears with the music the filly sang.
“Mmm- glrk hmmmmmmm glrk slurp MmmmHmmmm”
Built up pleasure at the tip of his cock made Icicle dig his hooves on the steel of his cart, snort loudly and grind his teeth one one another. His erection tensed and his sack shrunk - there was no way he’d last any longer, not with a slippery mouth like hers licking him like dessert.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck- fuuuck-”
Icicle’s jittery hoof took his member from the filly’s clutches, to her apparent surprise, and stroked it as fast as he could whilst aiming its head directly at her face.
“Filly, open up, filly- I’m gonna cum-”
Chest clenched and heaving profusely, the filly obeyed, drool dripping from her muzzle and tongue hanging from her mouth.
Spit flew everywhere - Red as the summer heat, Icicle’s cock shook and grew, his flare enlarged more, and more, and more, and exploded in a white streak thicker than syrup.
Caught by surprise, the filly closed her eyelids as the semen hit her face, but hastily opened them again to watch more cover her mane, forehead and snout. Her nose, that at first wrinkled at the smell of a sweaty stallion and the remains of his piss, now engorged itself in the potent fragrance of his seed as it slid over across her shaky muzzle and open lips, tingling her cunny.
She gawked the erection, the pulsating throbs, the shrinking nutsack in the back, and the weak and final strands of cum that strung out in spurts over her. The filly touched the sticky liquid and inhaled deeply; this was a stallion, strong and enormous; those back then were colts, tasteless and pitiful.
“Shit… huff You- you really did it, filly,” Icicle said, dick in hoof. “Fuck… Let me- let me get you a towel.”
“I’m good-”
“Here, for the love of Celestia, clean this up before you leave.”
Mister Icicle placed a wet worn-out piece of cloth upon her face, tattered and sewn back into shape several times over, and rubbed her cheeks with his gentle hooves. It reeked of alcohol, and it ruined the smell that he left on her. After he wiped her eyebrows, he left the remains of the task up to her, stood up at his shop and looked at the distance with lowered eyebrows.
The filly cleaned herself with the dry part of the towel, sniffed it between wipes and darted her gaze between the stallion’s rectangular, well-formed face and his veiny shrinking member, that, although not at its peak, looked heavy to lift in her hooves. Or face. Or rump.
“Fuck, that little shit scared the crap outta me,” Icicle said as he sat down on the chair, back arched, chest heaving. His half-mast wobbled up and down, continuously dripping a thin line of jizz onto the grass. Mister wiped the drool from her mouth.
“Grab whatever you want from the freezer. Two if you can stomach it. Actually, fuck it, grab as much as you want.”
“Really?” she said followed by a gasp.
“Really, knock yourself out - but don’t blame me when you do.”
Her eyes lingered while her hoof patted the side of the machine, found the latch, and opened the freezer. She then moved her sight to admire the treasure trove of sugar; scones, trays, gelatos, and toppings of all flavors - Icicle’s entire menu stored in a refreshing chill that relaxed her body.
“Anything?!”
“Anything.”
The mounds and mounds of sugar overwhelmed her. The summer dream, priced in the hundreds of bits, worth entire months of saved allowances, all for grabs. There were so many options with too many combinations to count, but none took her attention quite like the black jewel that quietly gleamed in the back.
“What’s this?” she said, holding her breath and a transparent container filled with dark puffs.
“Ah shit, you found it. Those are some gourmet chocolate truffles I’ve been experimenting with.”
“Chocolate!” The filly gasped and held the box tightly against her chest. “I don’t remember them being on your menu. Why’s that?”
“I don’t make those willy-nilly,” he sharply said, “I've made these exclusively for my dates. Their shelf life is too short for me to sell them. Yet.”
“Wait, so you’re saying that only your fillyfriend gets these?” she dropped her voice to a whisper and glued her stare to the stallion in full display. “And nopony else?”
“Yeah, filly.”
Quietly, the filly spun to her back, spread her legs and raised her tail. Yellow ethereal digits dug across her reddish cushy flanks and spread them, exposing her pink soaked lips and excited clit, jumping up and down from its hood. Her orbs, needy and wanting, pierced his hide as her hooves gripped tightly onto the container.
“I want this one.”
Icicle’s erection jump-started once more, although its owner wasn’t as eager as it was. He cursed loudly and spied the neighborhood, then, upon finding neither nopony noteworthy nor the ponice prepared for an ambush with nets and batons, brought his mouth right over the filly’s ear, his wobbling rod unintentionally slapping her gleeful rear.
“Don’t play coy with me. What in the fuck are you doing, asking a stranger to fuck you in the open like this?” he hissed.
“I want you inside of me, Mister,” her soft whisper murmured, shaking her hips.
“Want a stallion to fuck you into a mare, is that it?”
“Colts won’t make me one.”
Frustration coursed through Icicle’s body, then mixed with the fire from his loins. He bared his teeth and bit gently onto the delighted filly’s ear.
“Don’t make a single peep, you fucking slut.”
Icicle hurried and poked her rump with his cock, knocking at the wrong door as he was unaccustomed to the height difference, until an warm invisible force guided him to a soaked set of lips. His engorged flare, while bigger than the hole it intended to ravage, persistently pushed against her pussy, shoving her lips inwards until her muscles gave in and spread themselves ragged for him.
The head slipped easily once inside; though the walls lovingly smothered him, they invited him further into her never-before reached depths. The center, boiling hotter than the sun above them, was at about a third of his length, and despite his foal-like insistence, his cock couldn’t drill any deeper. Icicle’s head painted that last wall with the remains of his last climax, scraped her insides as it exited her nethers, stood still at the flushing lips and drove back inside.
As his hips swayed forwards and backwards ever so slowly, so discreetly, and so quietly, Icicle laid his head, its features strained and twisted, atop of his hooves on the kiosk. The air that left his nose was hot and heavy, red had invaded his face and the tip of his ears burned - yet his hips moved.
There was no rustling of grass, no teeter of birds, only the stallion’s loud breathing as he bred a filly in plain sight. The low drone of his machines, the taunts of colts at the edge of his vision, the slurping of genitals beneath him, and the desperate squeaky gasps of a filly that clutched her voice, like the good filly that she is, soothed his ears.
Sweat rolled down his abdomen, dripped down to the filly’s tail, trickled down its hairs, circumvented the edges of her clenching ponut and lost itself amidst his cock stretching her hungry lips. Much as the cold from his freezer graced their bodies like soft blankets, both ponies steadily drenched themselves from the heat they traded with each other.
Most of the neighboring windows were open, a sign of the season, and while far away, ponies' silhouettes were still visible. Plap… plap… plap… plap… They were probably watching television. Maybe talking amongst themselves. Likely staring at his stand, craving his desserts. At him. At his hips bottoming out a filly. Plap… plap… plap… plap…
In the distance, slowly but surely, the colt from earlier approaches. Though he neared, Icicle’s hips still pounced. A warm stream hit and stuck to Icicle’s foreleg and dripped a puddle on the ground under him; her muscles contorted and strangled his dick. The colt, more worried than before, stopped right in front of him, dropped his ball and questioned the stallion:
“Are you sure that you’re ok, Mister?” Plap… plap… plap… plap…
“Yes, yes. I’ve just got a bit of a fever right now. I’ll be right as rain once I have a good night of sleep.” Plap… plap… plap… plap… “Now, what is it that you want? I'm not in the mood for chatter,” Icicle addressed the colt as his cock plunged deep into the filly’s cunt, hammering her uterus’ entrance.
“Ah…! Ah…!”
“Oh, uh, I just wanted to buy an ice cream,” the colt dropped a hooffull of coins atop the metal of his table. Klink klink klink hmmmmmmmmmm plap… plap… “A vanilla cup, please.”
“Colt…”
The filly’s hips, greedy monster that they were, bobbed backwards once he approached her, then slumped forward when he retreated. Kiss, scrape, kiss, scrape, kiss, scrape, kiss. Icicle’s thick medial ring spread her outer lips and pressed against her clit, suffocating it as it scraped more and more against him.
“I need a few minutes to r-rest. Go, go play with your friends and come back in ten minutes. I’ll give you a cup for free.”
“Wow, thanks mister!”
The colt's little hooves kicked dirt without gathering his money back. His friends, still so far away yet so near, paid attention to him and him only, and not to the kiosk shaky jittering.
“Ah…! Ah…! Ah…! Aah…! Ah…!”
The filly whimpered as quietly as she could, breathing through nose and mouth, the latter wide open and drooling on Icicle’s merchandise; her hazed eyes stood at the top of her skull, lost in pleasure. As she shook, she jerked the cart every single time that she was impaled by the gigantic horse cock.
Plap… plap… plap, plap, plap, plap plap plap plap plap
“Hah…! Hah…! Hah…! gasp Haaaah…! Hah…!”
“Fuuuuuck-”
Icicle hammered, pounded as hard as he could, his flank arched nearer and nearer, then glued to her rack. His flare, while failing in penetrating her womb, pushed against it as father as possible, expanded, exploded. He shot into her like a hose, punching her insides and filling her with virile seed. Her tense, stiff muscles wrung Icicle’s sensitive cock, pumping him for all that he had, unaware that she had reached well beyond her limit.
“Haaaaa- Haaaaaaaa! Gasp Haaa- Haaa- Haaaaaaaaaa…”
The gfilly gasped louder and harder, drowning out all sounds around her, be it the loud huffing of her partner or the splash of her cum pooling the grass. Her insatiable rump twirled on the cock, rubbing her clit against Icicle’s ring, numbing her body, though mostly her head.
Pump after pump after pump, Icicle’s balls ran dry.
Schhlllp came out his cock, slowly receding into his sheathe. The filly’s pussy, now a shade of red similar to her coat, gaped the width of his dick, oozing a shade of white that painted her cunt.
Completely spent, the filly’s body threatened to hit the grass, but Icicle was quicker. He laid her down on a dry spot, put some ice on her head and offered her a bottle of water.
“Fuck, filly… I have to admit, you’re- you’re great.”
“You-you too,” she ogled him.
Icicle grabbed a less tattered towel and cleaned the excess from the filly’s rump. She silently stared as he dragged his hoof across her pussy with a tiny, serene smile. Icicle poked the bulge in her belly for a second before he noticed that it just made her ooze even more cum.
“I’m so full of you, Icicle,” she said quietly.
“Yeah, you kinda milked me back there.”
“You’re so cool. A stallion’s stallion.”
“Now you’re just buttering me up.”
It cost him a few bits, but Icicle let the door to his freezer open to cool both of them down. The excitement just now caught up to Icicle, who gave up on appearances and laid down next to his partner, who stank heavily of sex and him. The filly kissed him under his chin with a merry lopsided grin, and gave him half-lidded, hungry eyes.
“Hey, where do you live?” she asked, then giggled.
“Why do you wanna know?” Icicle said, then chugged a water bottle dry.
“Cuz I wanna know where my coltfriend lives, silly.”
“What?” Icicle asked, then threw the empty container into the bin. “Who gave you the idea?”
“You gave those truffles to me. Plus, only ponies who date do it to each other,” she said as a matter of fact.
“That’s not how things work, filly.”
“Can I visit you when you’re working? I wanna help you out, too!”
“You’re crazy.”
“Hey, mister, are you ok there?”
The colt, on the tipsy of his hooves, glanced at the couple from the other side of the carts.
“Oh hey, Lucky! Watcha you doing there?” the colt said. “I thought I heard you earlier. Are you working for mister Icicle?”
Tired of his foalish nonsense, Icicle grabbed two ice cream cups and shoved them at the colt’s face.
“Take these. Free of charge. Now git and forget you ever saw me today.”
The colt, gleefully ignorant, zipped his mouth and ran back to wherever-the-fuck. Icicle raised an eyebrow and laid down next to her.
“Lucky? That your name?” Icicle asked with a frown.
“Lucky Streak! Oops, I forgot to tell you,” she giggled, jumped and rubbed her coat against his.
“Oh, of fucking course it is,” Icicle muttered, rubbing his eyebrows. “Now there’s no surprise how you took a dent off of my savings.”
“I can’t wait to tell my friends that I got a coltfriend from college. They’ll be so jealous,” she beamed.
