While the train rolled along, Feather sighed and turned her gaze to the window. She could have - would have enjoyed the ride to Manehattan, although the gloomy weather and her raging hormones were making the trip trialsome. As she peered through the glass, her attention shifted to her reflection.
At a glance, she looked the same as she always had. Her rosy mane was brushed, her cream-colored coat glimmered faintly, and her makeup had been carefully applied - nevertheless, it was nearly impossible for her to smile. Enduring heat was frustrating for every mare she’d ever met, although her estrus was made all the more difficult because of her mother’s curse.
While she’d never gotten any explanation why she, a pegasus, could sense the emotions of others, she’d learned to live it. Her preternatural ability could be a boon at times, giving her an edge when she was dealing with ponies she’d only just met - unfortunately, it was a bit of a double-edged sword. Feeling a pair of eyes upon her, and sensing a hint of lust in the air, she turned her head.
One of the best and worst things about taking the train was being around strangers; on one hand, there was always the potential to make a new friend - on the other, it could sometimes lead to hours of awkward silence. The stallion seated across from her, at the opposite side of the table, was rather attractive, she’d give him that much, though she hadn’t caught his name - at least, not yet. Summoning her courage, she extended her hand over to her fellow passenger.
“Feather,” she said faintly.
The stallion eyed her proffered hand for a moment, smiled, then shook it daintily. “Clyde.”
Withdrawing her arm, she studied him for a fleeting moment. Tall, well-built, and remarkably handsome, he was a rather charming earth pony who, if the calluses on his hand were any indication, worked some sort of manual job. She lowered her gaze to the table, not wanting to stare or come off as rude, and brushed a lock of mane away from her face.
Darn it - of course she’d end up sitting next to somepony who looked good. Risking a glance back over to Clyde, her eyes danced over his broad, powerful chest. The top two buttons of his shirt undone, exposing his upper pecs and giving her a thrilled shiver. He could probably lift her easily, manhandling her as thought she weighed nothing, and his steely grip could…
She shook her head and clamped her eyes shut while attempting to dislodge the insidious, slatternly idea. It wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with her primal wants, and it assuredly wouldn’t be the last, but dealing with them had never been easy. Grinding her thighs together, she shifted her focus back out the window and to the rolling storms on the horizon.
Shifting in his seat, Clyde narrowed his eyes at Feather. From the moment he’d boarded the train, he’d known that somepony on board was in season. The familiar tang in the air, tickling his sinuses and singing a siren’s song to the most primitive parts of his mind, was provocative beyond measure ~ why wouldn’t it be? Mares let off a certain scent when they were fertile and ready to be bred, and he, like most stallions, had started noticing it at a fairly early age.
“So,” he began, sitting back and lacing his hands behind his head, “you on your way to Manehattan too?”
She nodded, but refused to look at him. “Yeah.”
Waiting for her to look at him, he nodded to the empty seat right next to her. “Mind if I…”
“N…no,” she hastily sputtered as her cheeks darkened. “I m…mean, yes,” she repeated, softer and steadier than the first time. “I’d r…rather we stay where we are.”
While a smirk played across his muzzle, he stretched his arms above his head. “No worries.”
He’d initially dismissed the notion that she was the one in heat, considering herself far too unlucky that such a cute mare would be the one filling his nostrils with the ambrosial bouquet, but it was her - he was sure of it. Was there any guarantee that they’d do anymore more than sit in silence for the remaining hour of the ride? No. Were there stories of perfect strangers hooking up out of happenstance? Absolutely. Bringing one hand down to his chest, he popped a third button on his shirt.
“I’m going up to see a few friends of mine,” he noted, breaking the silence. “How about yourself - if you don’t mind me asking.”
“I’m - uh…” she faltered when she peered over at him.
Her eyes widened just a hair, her blush grew more distinct, and her mouth hung open ever so slightly while she stared at his pecs. He hadn’t stripped down or done anything too provocative, although the train car had such a small number of passengers that maybe - just maybe he could roll the dice. Shifting to one side and turning his back to the aisle, he lifted one leg and draped it over the vacant seat beside himself.
“Can’t say I’ve heard of uh,” he chuckled. Giving her no time to reply, he undid a fourth button on his shirt, ran his hand down his abdomen, and teased at his waistband. “Kinda hot in here ~ wouldn’t you say?”
Nodding, Feather gulped and attempted to bite back her rising tension. “It is…”
She trailed off and did a double take as he flicked his jeans open and began fiddling with his belt. There was no way he was doing what she thought he was doing ~ was he? Her mind had to be playing tricks on her ~ right? Gazing in mute awe, she watched as he slipped a hand into his pants.
“I tell ya, I don’t know how you can stand it,” he sighed. “This heat is awful…”
Without any prompting whatsoever, and much to her shock, he pulled his semi-rigid stallionhood into the open and started stroking himself off. She’d silently wondered how big he was, assuming that he was on the large side because of his overall size, yet he was far more impressive than she’d given him credit for. So thick that he couldn’t fully touch his thumb to his fingers, and so long that he could grab it with both hands, his endowment grew with every passing second.
Sparing a glance over his shoulder, he looked around himself before setting his sights back on her. “Like what you see, cutie?”
Unable to make a sound, much less a coherent response, her jaw flapped noiselessly. How could this be happening? One minute, she’d been idly chatting with Clyde to pass the time - the next, he was jacking himself off without a care in the world! Tearing her eyes off his girthy cock, she cleared her throat.
He smiled warmly and waved a hand over at her. “C’mon, you can be honest.”
“I…” she sputtered, trying and failing to think of something - anything to say.
Her marehood clenched angrily upon itself while her panties dampened under her skirt. This was bad - really, really bad. If she didn’t do something quickly, he’d keep hitting on her while shamelessly touching himself. With her mind racing and pulse quickening, a notion occurred. She wasn’t responsible for him, and it wasn’t her job to stop him.
As she glanced back down to his dick, her heart skipped a beat. A bead of pre-cum glistened on the blunt tip of his length, and a fat vein running along the side of his shaft. It would have been impossible for her to gauge his size from such a distance, being several feet away from him, although she could tell that he was packing some serious heat.
Simply seeing him in such a seductive light would have been bad enough in and of itself, but the sinful emotions he put off were nothing short of decadent. His intentions for her couldn’t have been more obvious if he’d written them out to her, so strong were his desires. He wanted her, having at some point figured out that she was weathering a particularly taxing estrus, and she had no doubt that he would take her if he had the chance.
Unwittingly sliding a hand up her shirt, she pawed at one breast while gnawing her lower lip. Any reasonable mare would have gotten up, alerted the train’s staff about the pervert, and found somewhere else to sit until the situation had been dealt with - sadly, she was feeling anything but reasonable. Logic and lust pitted themselves against one another in her head, each vying for dominance, as her fingers crept under her bra and brushed against her nipple.
He could easily overpower her and drag her off to a bathroom for some privacy, but then what? What would he do after he got her all to himself? As the breath hitched in her throat, wild, wholly indecent visions assailed her.
Though she didn’t know the first thing about him, he’d probably rip her shirt off and play with her tits. Maybe he’d be gentle with her, delicately teasing and kissing her bosoms while pressing himself against her, or perhaps he’d be a bit more fierce and bite her - either way, she’d whimper and struggle fruitlessly against his unwanted, unstoppable advance. Dwelling on a particularly captivating thought of him fondling her breasts, she started when he cleared his throat.
Bucking into his hand, Clyde grinned. “Maybe we could find a way to blow off some steam together ~ hmm?”
Blow off some steam - oh he’d do far more than that. Once he’d had his fill with her pillowy bosoms, he’d move on to more pressing matters. The details of how he’d remove her skirt were unclear, bet it from simply unzipping it and letting it flutter down her legs or by tearing it off her like a crazed beast, yet she’d find herself stripped before long.
As he winked and extended his slickened hand to her, she found herself at a crossroad. Her higher-self implored her to leave, to abandon the lecherous stallion and never think of him again, yet her id pleaded for her to take his unspoken offer. What he would do with her - to her was anypony’s guess, yet she longed for it.
She reached out hesitantly, bringing her hand above his while her thoughts raced. Her marehood ached, her panties were drenched, and her nipples were so hard that they hurt, but she couldn’t surrender herself to him so easily. Gripped with indecision, she shifted to one side and looked down the aisle.
All told, there were only a handful of other ponies within the train car. Any of the other passengers would surely notice her doing anything even remotely lewd with him - worse still, there was a couple situated two rows behind her seat. She twisted and looked over her shoulder at the lovers she’d passed while boarding.
The duo, a unicorn and kirin respectively, paid her no mind - in fact, they were so preoccupied with each other that they wouldn’t have noticed much of anything! Seated side by side, the pair embraced and softly kissed. Great - fantastic! She’d thought she’d felt a romantic buzz in the air, but she hadn’t been sure if it had been their imagination.
Heedless and uncaring of their surroundings, the couple whispered sweet, hushed nothings in one another’s ears. While it was true that Feather couldn’t make out what they were saying, their passion was abundantly clear. The lovers locked eyes, drifted closer, and deeply kissed as she silently witnessed and sensed their desires.
The moment Clyde’s fingers laced with hers, the line between reality and fantasy blurred. He didn’t say a word when she looked back at him, yet his actions spoke volumes. Stuffing his cock back into his pants, he zipped up his jeans, got up, and stepped into the aisle. Her indecision had cost her dearly, allowing him to pull her to her feet and guide her along to the back of the car without a trace of resistance.
He moved with haste, nearly dragging her to and into one of the two bathrooms available for passengers. The room was cramped, so small that there was barely enough room for the two of them, although the lack of space brought with it a boon - privacy. Turning around, he loomed over her.
“Now then,” he snickered.
Feather lowered her gaze as he steadily opened her blouse. She could have stopped him, screamed out, or fought back, yet she did none of these things - instead, she swallowed hard and kept her hands at her sides. Slowly, almost sensually, he unveiled her chest, smirked, then snaked his hand around her back and deftly unclasped her bra.
The cool air sharply contrasted against his hot breath as he leaned forward and kissed her bosom. She yearned for this, for him to strip her of any choice in the matter, and yet she didn’t budge - that was, until he grabbed her crotch. The feeling of her brazenly fondling her and gradually pulling her panties aside drew a faint whimper past her lips.
Sliding a finger into her taut depths, he brought his muzzle to her ear. “Good mare…”
His sonorous voice resonated within her very soul. Bucking into her hand, she quietly whined as he caressed her g-spot. Uncouth though he was, Clyde was a stallion who took what or who he wanted - and he wanted her. While she clenched around his thick digit, he pinched her nipple with his free hand.
“Bet you’ve been wanting this the whole time,” he purred. “Should’ve just had you fuck yourself on me in my seat…”
She moved without thinking, her body acting as if it had a mind of its own, and rubbed the imprint of his stallionhood within his pants The heat radiating off his endowment was staggering, heating her palm through the denim he wore, and it did nothing to hamper her impulses - on the contrary, he fueled the fire of her bestial wants. Mirroring his actions, she opened his jeans and touched the base of his shaft.
Velvety skin sheathed the steely core of his length, his musk filled the air, and her self-restraint waned. Inching back as far as she could, she pulled his cock free. Had they been in a bedroom - sweet Celestia, there was no telling how things could have played out. With his stallionhood all but pressed against her abdomen, she peered up and into his eyes.
‘Beg for it,’ he mouthed.
Though she opened her mouth to speak, the words wouldn’t come. It was one thing to let this happen, resigning herself to be his plaything, but it was quite another to give voice to her unseemly desires. As she shied away and felt her tush touch the sink, inspiration struck her.
She might not have fallen far enough to openly beg him, yet she could still do so in a somewhat subtler way. Sliding back onto the small countertop, she reclined and spread her legs. If the sight of her presenting herself didn’t elicit a response from him, nothing would - unless…
His smile broadened when she gazed down at her nethers. “That’s what I’m talking about…”
While merely hearing his approval would have been enough to excite her, what he did next was vastly more titillating. Stepping in and hauling her panties aside, he bent his knees and sank into her depths. The intrusion was so abrupt that she had to clamp a hand over her muzzle to stifle herself, but the sensation of fullness - stars above, it was phenomenal.
He bent forward at the waist, braced his legs, and immediately started thrusting. Each plunge was deeper than the last, stretching her open little by little. Peeking up at him with a cracked eye, finding it nearly impossible to stay quiet, she found him staring down at her. The way he looked at her was depraved, as though he was seeing her as a toy and nothing else, and that’s when it dawned on her.
She wasn’t his lover, his marefriend, or even a friend with benefits - she was a convenience. He had an amorous itch to scratch, and it was her duty as a fertile mare to give herself to him. Leaning back as far as she could, she bit one knuckle to keep herself quiet. They may have gotten away from prying eyes, but that didn’t mean they could be too reckless.
“No,” he softly rumbled as he took her wrist and forced her hand away from her snout, “let them hear you…”
A moan escaped her, one loud enough to echo through the small chamber, while she closed her legs around his waist. There was a point at which anypony lost control of themselves, a fine line when one acted without thinking - for Feather, that point came when he wormed a hand between them and massaged her clit with his thumb. Rolling her head back, she closed her eyes and yielded to him.
The sound of her panting and groaning grew louder and louder still as Clyde’s medial ring rhythmically bumped against her entrance. Visions flashed through her mind, from ones of him masturbating across from her to others where he was railing her in a seedy hotel room, and each was kinkier than the last. Winking uncontrollably around him, and with her clit bulging against his fingertip, she rocketed towards release.
In spite of the cramped conditions, Clyde was an exquisitely capable stud. His hands wandered over her, caressing her to tease her nipples and clit, while his stallionhood sawed into her. Constricting around him, she flexed her legs and pulled him closer.
There were certain things that simply couldn’t be recreated. Rubbing herself off or even using a sex toy could be fun, and it was enough to get her off, but it paled in comparison to actually becoming intimate with somepony - even if that somepony was a stranger. The sensation of being held and touched, feeling a fat stallionhood within her, the smell of sex, and the sound of a stud grunting above her were singular and downright divine.
In that moment, blinded by lust, she relished everything he had to offer. His stallionhood was, in a word, perfect. Like it was made for her, the thick, vascular cock hit all her most sensitive spots. While she was completely aware of how wrong it was, and that she could get in trouble if somepony came knocking at the door or complained about the ruckus they were making, the taboo of being so naughty made the exchange all the more decadent.
She honestly, truly couldn’t say how long they’d gone at it, though she snapped out of her blissful haze when she sensed his stallionhood violently throb. The tip of his length flared, expanding to nearly double its original size, and his shaft pulsed wildly. He wasn’t wearing a condom, she was in heat, and he was moments from cumming in her! With what little common sense she had finally overtaking her animalistic ambitions, she wriggled and attempted to push him away.
“Getting close,” he growled.
Renewing her efforts to get free, she knit her brow. “P…please, not inside!”
He didn’t slow in the slightest, continuing to jackhammer into her unhindered. “That’s not what you want…”
“Please!” she emphatically repeated while summoning the courage to look him in the eyes. “I…I can’t have your foals!”
“Heh,” he darkly laughed. “Guess we’ll see about that. Get pregnant, slut!”
With those prophetic words, he hilted and came. The sweltering seed that surged into her, flowing through his shaft and crashing against her inner gate, was a taste of heaven and hell itself. She howled in delight, her toes curled, and her shrill wail rang in her ears, while she was consumed by her climax.
The orgasm was breathtaking in a literal and figurative sense. Her scream trailed off, nectar seeped from her spasming, battered marehood, and her limbs went slack. She hated herself for it, but she felt amazing - no, better than amazing, but the moment didn’t last. Stepping back and wrenching his still-flared cock free, Clyde painted the final shots of his load on her groin and lower abdomen.
He’d claimed her in every sense of the word. Her depths were bathed in his essence, the pearly white of his spunk clashed with the pink of her fur, and he’d used her. A part of her felt awful, ashamed at what she’d done and that she’d enjoyed it, but that part was overshadowed by the raw, unfettered joy of getting what she so desperately needed.
Breathing hard, she wearily peered up at him. If she didn’t do something once she got to town, there was a good chance that she could end up carrying his foal - on top of that, she’d probably never see him again. He hadn’t shared his full name, where he lived, or any details about himself - still, she was appreciative that he’d given her some much-needed relief.
“Clean yourself up,” he coldly ordered, “or don’t - honestly, I don’t care.”
Coaxing a few last drops of seed from his softening shaft, he brushed himself off, crammed his dick in his pants, and left. It was only by a tender mercy that he closed the door behind and spared her the indignity of somepony walking by to see her in such a state. She was a mess, her mane disheveled and leaking cum from her gaped sex, yet she smiled.
The onslaught of ecstasy was eclipsed by a euphoric warmth. She was completely aware of how pitiful she must have looked, and she was genuinely ashamed of what she’d done, but she felt amazing. Her cum-starved womb had gotten its wish, a deposit of rich, virile foal-batter, and it may finally - finally give her some -
“Next stop, Baltimare! All passengers, please disembark!”
Hearing the announcement over the loudspeaker overhead, Feather bolted upright. She was still in her chair, her blouse was buttoned, and she was no more worse for wear. Patting herself down, she looked over and froze. Clyde was exactly where he’d been originally, laying across a pair of seats, but there were ropes of spunk slathered over his belly, chest, and even one on his lower neck.
She shifted in place and went still. Her panties, her skirt, and her seat were all soaked in her juices. In spite of what may or may not have happened, she’d made one heck of a mess and was in no state to be around anypony. Hearing a weak cough, she glanced across the table yet again.
Clyde dreamily smiled over at her. “That…that was incredible…”
Whatever had happened, she wasn’t about to stick around and wait for anypony to ask her any questions. She got up as fast as she could, scrambled for her bag in the overhead luggage compartment, and straightened her sodden skirt. The quicker she could leave, the better.
While she struggled to get her suitcase free, her eyes strayed over to Clyde. His dazed expression and silly smile told her everything she needed to know - still, his thoughts invaded her mind. He’d experienced the same thing as her, the entire slatternly affair, and he was hoping his luck would hold out with the next random mare he traveled alongside.
She pulled her luggage free, sneered, and stomped to the closest exit. Be it from her curse, an overactive imagination, her estrus, or a combination of the three, her time with Clyde in the bathroom had been extraordinarily vivid. Pressing out and onto the platform, she scurried into the station. This had been the first time she’d taken a train in ages, and she was already regretting it.
Pressing through the throng and making for a bathroom, she shook her head and swore a vow to herself. “This is the last time I’m traveling in heat…”
