Author's Note
Anthro mode!
Market Mating
Lyra sometimes did not understand her own needs and emotions: for instance, at other times, when she felt a sink in her heart when ponies stared at her fussing with her trousers' zipper, or the sensation of heat she felt when her miniskirt proved insufficient to cover up the onesie that in turn covered her padding.
This time, however, when she felt her limbs restless and her lower parts tingling and her butt twitchy, she knew perfectly well what she was feeling and needing right there, right now.
She was horny.
Try as she might, trying to focus on the feeling of the squelching and squishing padding moving against and into her in various points as her firm thigts moved, what it entailed and how did it make feel in actuality, didn't work; sneakily pressing the utterly soaked fluff formely printed with flowers and candies, and now a bunch of indistinct smudges, into her snatch and through her brown flower skirt over a heart-print pink onesie did not work; and trying to ignore it entirely, and instead go about shopping for food and clothes in the market stalls while walking behind her "best friend", Profiterole, the smell of fresh leather and cooking supplì covering the foul smell emanating from her padded messy butt, did not work and in fact was making her crankier and crankier... she was mentally stuck.
"What do you mean, this is ten bits a piece?!" she shouted, pointing at a little fried cheese-pepper rice ball the vendor was offering "What are these supplì made of, rare herbs and Venus rice?"
"Lyra, calm down, it's just a difference of two bits."
She groaned as she huffed and moved past, throwing a middle finger at the vendor as she went towards the hummus stand.
"Bah, maybe I just need a cig break," Lyra muttered, before looking up at the burly stallion mixing and spicing up a huge pot of the aforementioned chickpeak cream. He seemed to be the right type.
"Yo, got a cigarette?" Lyra said.
"No, nope, we don't have cigarettes for passerbys," he answered without even turning around.
"Well, fuck you, too," Lyra grumbled.
"You want a cigarette? Is that what you really need?" Profiterole asked, a strong tone of annoyance in his voice.
Lyra turned around and tried to close her legs against the rather expanded padding while also fussing with the skirt, all in the attempt to get some relief from the horniness deep inside her, to no avail, as it only produced squelching and squishing sounds.
Sighing, she bowed her head, and said "Yeah. I think I really, really need to smoke one out."
"Very well then," he said, grabbing Lyra's right wrist and gently leading her away from the market's crowds and bustle, and into a darker, more silent alley, where only the backside of a restaurant, a boar-shaped statue, and a convenient tiny portico with columns and a closed fountain were present, and no pony passing through or talking nearby. Lyra leaned on the fountain, gesturing towards Profiterole to give her the tobacco stick.
With a mild groan, after rummaging through Lyra's own bag– normally she would have been the one carrying it, but the hopes of a clothing haul made her reconsider– and moving some changing supplies away, he found a pack of Lucky Shots and a lighter printed with the logo of a pub she used to frequent many years ago, almost before meeting him. He threw them at her and, without commenting it, she caught them both mid-air.
She realised just how badly she stunk only then, when all other odours had truly left her nostrils: in her uncertaintly in whether give in to foalish pride in that "accomplishment" and attempt to give a damn, she decided to light up and use that to help.
"Y'know, I don't understand why you are being so rude today," he said "Yesterday you were all 'yay market stalls, yay fashion, yay instruments!', but today you are all dour and angry."
"I mean, how couldn't I? All their stuff is overpriced garbage," she put the lit cigarette in her mouth and took a puff, the nicotine already dulling her senses somewhat.
"Even if they did, which, believe me, it's not true they sell low-quality goods, it doesn't justify complaining about prices that loudly and aggressively in their faces."
"Oh, as if you know anything about money's worth," she said, taking yet another puff "You have a lot of money, of course you don't notice."
"At least I don't shout insults at stall vendors, unlike you today. Really, what got into you today? I can't figure it out!"
"Well," she took a longer, harder puff, burning a good chunk of her cigarette "you can figure it out on your own."
There was a beat. And, in that beat, Lyra's eyes moved away from both her friend's own and the architecture around, to wander a bit. In their wandering, she laid her eyes on his trousers.
Better yet, on his trousers' crotch, which had its fly haf-open to reveal a pail of striped black boxers with an azure strenght-stripe.
Suddenly, a lightbulb went off in her head. A crimson red one, to be precise. Blushing like a tomato and peeing herself just a little more before starting to wet itself in a more "normal manner", she had decided.
There it was. The answer to her need. The quencher of her thirst. The until-then forbidden– or maybe unthought?– fruit. The instrument necessary to use her padding to the fullest.
She licked her lips, her ears catching what he was saying, but with her brain's capability to understand speech entirely shut off.
Lyra clenched her fists, a weak attempt at suppressing, since her snatch was quivering in anticipation and her mouth sought something more mouth-filling than a mere cigarette.
She took the cigarette out of her mouth, and exhinguished it against the fountain's stone, leaving a small soot mark behind.
On autopilot, she wrapped her arms around his legs, a pleading look on her face, as the wet, squishing sounds coming off her soaked padding being pressed against her pussy and ass filled the still air.
"Wait, what are you doing? What is it now?" he asked in surprised annoyance.
She wordlessly pointed at his fly, before giving it a light scritch, as if she was trying to make a cat content, with her eyes filled with lustful need.
"Oh! That's rather surprising, but not not unwelcome," he said blushing "but let's get ourselves under the portico, it's comfier."
Lyra nodded, walking that short distance on her knees– helped by the fact her movememts were causing the padding to rub against her clit harder than ever– and then watched in mesmerized want as Profiterole undid the fly fully, lowered his underwear, and bared his cock to her.
"Here, have your lollipop."
"Yay! Thank you," she squealed, as she started to touch it sll over, feeling it up and touching the tip. As soon as it got ghard enough to be of interest, she gathered up her saliva, and then, after a kiss on the tip that gave away his taste of tomato and curry, she slid it in her mouth. She licked and sucked it like candy indeed, using her teeth to delicately massage the lemght, while using her own cuteness to look up into his eyes, netting her a headpat and some help in pushing it down harder, feeling like a good, helpful and lucky girl all the while, moaning softly as she felt her heart race.
Soon, the heat coming from beneath all that padding was getting too much: she needed him inside her body, not inside her mouth. With a "plop", she pulled out, and said "Let'sswitchplacesandletmeleanIwantyousobad.ohmygishohmygishohmygosh."
Being the nice, obliging sort of stallion, he helped her get up and lean on the fountains. Before she even knew it, her onesie had been unbuttoned with an insanely quick hand motion, and, after a quick tease involving his hard cock rubbing against her vag through the used padding, impying more than he could give right now...
Profiterole untaped her diaper, and carefully set it aside, before saying "hold on tight!" and sliding inside her very wet marehood. Lyra let out a long, sustained pant of pleasure, as she felt it go deep inside of her, and, soon, she started feeling heat up and very happy when the actual railing began, with each quick and hard thrust leading her to new peaks of love, his rough public fluff paradoxically brushing softly against her clit, and only helping with the utterly blissful fulness he was giving her. It was rythmic mating, and neither could really stop the other's motions, only follow them up with equal reactions, and the sounds of both, though they tried to muffle them, were still a symphonic union that anyone passing by could enjoy listening at, if they were so inclined. His hands stroke her back all over the place while her own clung to his shirt, and her tongue vainly tried to get into his mouth, nedhing him to recover it to get a kiss with the fucking.
Soon, she lost enough coherence in her pleased haze, she started to babble happy nonsense and giggle and, when close to her climax, she initiated a strong hug with a sloppy kiss. Just as electricity coarsed through her and made her sing, she soon felt something warm, thick and rich fill her womb, helping in comforting the fast-dropping mare that felt dazed, sweaty, confused, very happy.
There was a minute of panting and huffing, but, when that was over, without even thinking, Lyra grabbed her used diaper and clumskly put it back on. While now a little cold and clammy... the feeling of her best friend's cum dripping out of her and into her diaper made her feel safer than ever, a "liquid courage" if one can say so.
"W-what, you don't want to change?" he said with a smirk, as he hapazardly got himself decent again, starting by pulling up his underwear.
Lyra smiled widely in silence, then shook her head.
"N-not yet... I want to feel this more than used diaper for a little longer. In fact, why don't we shrug off this haze with a little walk in the market?" she asked, shakily getting back on her hooves "I can get changed in a bar's bathroom later, while you go for a bathroom break."
He smiled at her, gave her a smooch, and then helped her to stand on wobbly feet, the fucking on top of the padding making her waddle as his cum trickled out with a ticklish feel on her labia. Now the stalls looked that much more colorful, and the prices much fairer.
And, with a smile, Lyra got back to work on her shopping spree.
