Mare Before Midnight

He rears back, gripping my shoulders, his face dark and hungry.

We are both panting.

In a deliberate movement, he leans over me, and draws my arms together on my chest.

Uh-oh.

“Hitch.”

He ignores me and, with his fetlock, effortlessly pins my arms in place. Meanwhile, his ardour urgently presses into my soft stomach.

His free hoof reaches for my crotch, having disabled my defences.

No! Think!

I wriggle away, scared, but get nowhere. At least fear softens my little sex, thank Sol.

“Hitch!”

“What’s wrong?” he says, an edge to his voice.

I look down to the organ bumping needily against my stomach.

His square jaw clenches.

“Don’t worry. I have protection.”

He roughly spears his free hoof between my legs, raising his knee to try to leverage mine apart and claim his prize.

“No!”

If Sunny could see him now…

He hesitates.

“Don’t you want this?”

“No.”

I cry, a little — in part, due to genuine fear.

Stung, he blinks.

I can see him thinking, like any good little colt: ‘I have been too rough with the filly, and now she is upset.’

A look of masculine solicitousness comes over his face, and his bumping member softens against my belly. He releases my arms.

“Oh, Sol! What am I doing? Are you ok?”

I quieten him with a kiss.

He kisses back gently, at first, but his fire soon returns.

To forestall him, I use my released arms to clasp his prodding member, caressing its delicate skin, and teasing and rolling its bulbous head.

To my intense relief, this has the desired effect.

With a moan, he leans back on the sofa, hooves by his side, letting me pleasure him.

From my position of power, I savour his gorgeous, amber body a moment, before I move in.

I lower my head to his, pushing my mane aside, so it doesn’t drape over my face.

Rather than kiss, I brush my lips over the warm, whiskey-scented stubble, and move over the ridge of his jaw, to the vulnerable intimacy of his neck.

An electric thrill rushes through me as he sighs and angles his head, letting me nuzzle. My noises add to his.

I travel over his chest, kissing as I go, delighting in the soft fur.

Meanwhile, I feel the first little dribbles from his thing. It must have been a while…

As I move down to his tummy, I feel him grip my head again, pushing me down towards his waist.

Taking it in my hoof, I lift the wonderful, yet strange, taut, tumescent organ gently to my face, smelling its musk and feeling its length which, up-close, is considerable. It is hardsoft, like a cucumber, sensitive and yet firm and powerful. Below it, his two orbs roil.

Lowering my head between his sweaty legs, I fully commit by moving my mouth over his sac, taking in the tangy sex-taste. I run my hooves up the length above me as I do so.

His hips buck a little, thrilling me with the power I have over his perfect body.

I move my mouth up to his girthy base, angling myself to the side, to wrap my lips partially around it, and then I slide up.

“Mmm.”

At the tip, I pull my mane back, and look up.

As before, his eyes lock with mine.

I blissfully lower myself onto him and, even as he pants and reddens, he never looks away.

Unlike Jazz, and a few others, I cannot take it fully, and so I pull back just before I gag. My prickling eyes and nose are worth his moans.

Pulling up again, I swirl my tongue over the slick organ. It tastes of dick. In a good way.

As the urgency of the blowjob increases, I bring my hooves to its base and close my throat around it, as I have learned to.

To my delight, I begin to taste his closeness and feel it pulsing.

He is already beginning to buck, so I slow my motion, wanting to prolong the experience.

We continue like that for a while, until his grip on my head becomes vice-like and he forces himself down my throat. My eyes roll back in an attempt not to gag, but my body betrays me, with the unfortunate attendants of gulps, mucus and tears.

“Aah!”

With a final tensing, he comes, and I fill with that weird ‘heavy’ taste cum has, along with a deep love for the stallion who has filled me.

Tears of love mix with the others. All I want to do is gaze up into his eyes, but I know that I don’t look my prettiest right now, so I drape my mane over my face as his thing softens and withdraws.

The panting stallion sighs, as they do.

“Fuck me, cutey. Wow.”

If we weren’t strangers, I would cuddle him. Post-coital stallions are the best.

Instead, I have a terrible choice. I need him in me, but… I can’t, can I?

The Mareium bottle lies among my things, just next to the sofa. I have a reckless impulse: one more dose and the stallion I love could take me properly, as the mare I am!

And then I remember Jazz, and mom, and all the ponies I’ve loved. It’s not worth it.

Couldn’t we just try anal? With the lights off? If he finds out, I’m dead though — oh, Sol!

While having these thoughts, I make my way to his kitchen which is, fortunately, ruthlessly well organised. Taking a scrap of kitchen roll from under the sink, I dab my face in an attempt to undo the damage.

After swilling my mouth out, I take a swig from a rum bottle on the counter. My head pounds from the drink and excitement. My little, feminised, sex, ever hopeful, begs for more.

But surely he’s satisfied by now? I prick my ears up — there’s silence from the other room. With a yearn of disappointment, but also of relief, I sense that the night is over.

In the harsh glow of the kitchen light, I plan my exit: I will find him sleeping; I will drape a cover over him and will give him a kiss goodnight; I will collect my things. On the way back, I will text Jazz with the first of many, many apologies. Oh, Jazz…

With my mind made up, I return.

As I walk into the room, however, he springs to attention. It seems that I have underestimated my charms, or at least the length of his dry spell since, if anything, his hunger is greater than before.

Thoughts of leaving are swept aside by the sheer excitement of having the stallion of my dreams consume me.

And I find myself unable to resist responding, despite my misgivings.

With renewed butterflies, even more intense than in the club when I pulled the same move, I twirl and 'paint' my assets sensuously with my polished hoof. This time, though, I draw it around my entire ass and cutie mark, whose picture, a cocktail glass, by some joke of fate, points a straw right between my cheeks.

To complete the effect, I angle my hips so that my waist sucks in, while my newly enlarged rear pushes out. The pose raises my pink-dyed tail so that it drapes coyly to the side of my white-furred valley, which is further set off by the lacey pink/white trim of the panties. My feminised thing and orbs stay tucked out of sight, of course.

“You like?”

Hitch tenses and a possessiveness comes into his demeanour, like a colt with a toy. He nods. He wants me.

I can’t believe I’m going to do this.

“Should we?“ I gesture to his bedroom.

He shakes his head.

I don’t falter. What does he have in mind?

“In there,” he says, his voice thick.

The guest bedroom. Of course. He can’t have my stink on the sheets when Sunny comes round, can he?

I wonder what it’s like to just be quietly loved by a stallion like him. To be long-term and play and cook and fight and just be together? I feel a pang for another time, before the Mareium, and before the world changed. Just coltfriends together. No lies.

“Now,” he orders.

I see that barking at me stirs him even more. Maybe it’s all those ‘bad mares’ in the cells? All that power — it can be corrupting.

“Yes, Master,” I say, recklessly, wanting to stir his fire even more.

He grins. I was right.

“Call me that again, slut.”

Slut? Well, fortunately I don’t love him for his imagination.

I play along.

“Master?”

I won’t lie, submissive play can be a turn on. Elaborating on the role, I bring a hoof to my lips and make my hazel eyes large.

“Now,” he commands, and moves in, as if to carry me to the bedroom.

I back away slightly. Let a mare prepare!

“Slut was naughty before, so can she go to the little filly’s room to make herself look pretty for Master?”

Ugh.

He nods and heads to the kitchen, probably for more whiskey.

Using the opportunity, I prepare the bedroom. There are bedside lamps. The flat is surprisingly tastefully decorated. Princess Boss’s influence, probably. Certainly not Izzy’s, or the place would be covered in crap.

I make the room dim, leaving one lamp on.

With my heart in my mouth, I reach for the Mareium bottle in my things… but no. Even if he beats me, it’s too dangerous. The final changes can be lethal, especially when combined with sex. I know because I’ve lost good friends that way. Despite that, I make sure the bottle is accessible from the bed, hiding it in my clothes.

I head for the bathroom.

Where are the douches? C’mon. C’mon! Surely Sunny… when she stays over?

I find them under the sink.

I squat and soap to prepare my little pink, rinsing it thoroughly with the douche, inside and out, before drying the area with a towel. I can’t dawdle, it’ll just have to do. I dab his cologne on my backside, marvelling at how the Mareium has shaped it into a bubble. I had a nice ass as a stallion, I thought, but now, wow! How could he refuse?

At least the Mareium makes my thing smaller, but if these panties come off… I mean, they’re just for role play. Why the hay am I so stupid?

But maybe he’s secretly bi, or is too drunk and horny to notice? I have often flirted with ‘straight’ stallions in the past, only for them to be happily down to screw later.

With less time for my face, I make only a brisk inspection. It’ll be dark. Still, I do rub at the tear streaks and dab a little powder — freaking white makeup! Jazz would not be impressed.

A knock on the door.

“Master’s waiting.”

I grab a large tub of baby lotion from the vanity, and leave.

I sashay out of the bathroom.

He’s waiting and immediately grabs me from behind, his hooves perilously close to my sex. He pulls me back, pushing himself into my softness.

I would be thrilled, but I am too scared of him finding out about my secret before we get to the bedroom.

“What’s that for?” he asks of the baby lotion.

Dessert.

“Um,” I say, and wiggle into him. Feeling it where I want electrifies me. I bite my lip — not for display.

“Oh?” he queries, before realisation dawns. “Oh! Good slut.”

In the dim guest bedroom, I put the lotion on the side-table.

Pushing the duvet to one side, I lower my torso onto the bed, raising my head on my forelegs, angling my underside away from the light.

I feel him pull my tail, raising me up.

“Oh, cutey… you are.”

He is actually lost for words! I burn with pleasure.

Whack.

“Ow!” I squeal, not expecting it.

“What are you?”

Shit. Does he know something?

Oh, of course, the ‘roleplay’.

“I’m a ‘slut’.”

Wack.

He’s really walloping me.

“What are you?”

“A slut!”

Wack.

The pain draws tears this time. He is incredibly strong, and I’ve never been weaker. The bruises I’ll have after this! I’ll be standing in the salon...

“Slut! I’m a nasty slut!” I shriek, half-genuinely.

After he’s done, he drags me, tail first, into him.

Faint with fear and arousal, I reach for the lotion and smear some on my hooves.

“Let. Master.”

He takes the lotion bottle.

My heart stops. What the fuck do I do now?

But I don’t have time to think. His hoof is already between my legs.

I moan as his hoof pushes into my clean, slick, pinkness.

However, that turns into a whine of fear as I feel him continue up my taint and push inside my panties. The world stops as he touches what I have been hiding.

He staggers back.

“What… what the fuck are you?”

I whip round, my hoof grips the bottle.

“I’m me. Hitch. Master? Please, no!”

I know this look. I bolt.

I head for the exit but, scrabbling with slippery hooves, I can’t get his door open.

“You… you! What have you done?”

I hear the deadly anger in his voice from the bedroom, where he is still reeling.

“Making me… do that to you.”

I’m crying. I need to focus. Why won’t it open? There’s a safety latch!

“Lying to me the whole time.”

Oh, Sol. He’s going to kill me. He’s going to actually…

“Talking about Sunny.”

He doesn’t say the last word, he growls it — a guttural beast’s voice. I have never been so scared.

“I’ll fucking kill you!”

With a final roar, I hear him coming for me.

Giving up on the door, I hurl myself towards the bathroom and lock it behind me.