Driven By An Urge
The night smells of sweat and smoke in the shady part of Manehattan. These are the streets that no tourist will venture down, the streets where the toil and labour that makes a city work happens. As you look around, you are greeted by row upon row of ironmongers, food wholesalers, tanneries, thatcheries, factories and all the background shops that normal ponies take for granted. And every single one of them is alive with activity, even at this late hour. Every pony you can see has determination etched deep into their faces, and they unconsciously follow hidden pathways that have been hammered into them by years of routine.
The noise is deafening, the smells choking and conflicting as they catch in your throat and make you gag. But you swallow the bile and push through the oblivious crowd, because tonight you are driven by a baser need than comfort. It started as a small yet insistent tingle, like a feather brushing over your naked brain. Over the months, even as you tried to ignore it, it grew more and more strident. The small voice grew into a bellow, the tingle now liquid fire coursing in your veins until it took over your legs and brought you to this moment. This still, shameful moment.
Your gut is churning and quaking, and you feel a rush of blood to your brain as you tentatively knock on the almost-hidden door. It’s a long time before anyone answers, long enough for you to think twice. You’re not sure if this is intentional, but it doesn’t matter. Why am I here? Have I become this desperate, this pathetic? Who are you kidding, you’ve been this pathetic ever since the high school dance. You were a pathetic coward then, and you are a pathetic coward now. Why not embrace it? No! I’m not this kind of pony! I’ve never stooped this low, no matter how lonely I became! I won’t do this! I WILL NOT!
But the door opens, and once again the tide inside of you rises and roars like a tortured animal behind your eyes, urging you to go forward or face teeth and claw and blood and bone. What can a pony do when faced with such ferocity, except bow their head and dumbly submit to the will of the beast?
You walk through the door, barely noticing the muscular doorman fixing you with a surly glare. But as you walk further inside, you find yourself thinking back to him, thinking of anything except the moment you are moving inexorably towards. What’s his name? What colour was he? What was his cutie mark? Does he just work here, or does he ‘shop’ here too?
Somehow you’ve found a chair to sit on. You don’t remember coming into this room. The air hangs heavy with incense and smoke, making you want to cough. The sweet jasmine smell snaps you back into your semi-trance, and your eyes drift away unfocused as you lose yourself to memory again.
Her mane. You will always remember her mane, even as the rest of your mind fades away into old age many years from now. A delicate red, she was haloed as she sat next to you in class; the sun shining through the window making her look like a goddess. And to you, she was. She gives you a demure glance, and shyly turns away with a grin. You want her, so badly you want her. The teacher’s words run through you like water as your mind is fraught with images conjured by the flame inside you burning only for her. The two of you, lying on a blanket next to a lake, content to simply be. A glimmer of light in her eyes when she laughs at a bad joke. The smell of her mane as she lies next to you on your wedding night and you draw her a little closer in terror of her slipping away.
The trance is broken by a not-unkind-looking middle aged mare, who nevertheless fixed you with a calculating look for a moment.
“That’ll be a hundred bits,” she says, without a trace of emotion in her voice.
“I. I’m not sure I want to do this...” you say, the churning in your gut overpowering you for a second.
“Then why are you wasting my time, kid? STONY GAZE! Get over here, we got a no-show.” She moves to address the next customer, before the driving urge takes you over again.
“WAIT! Please, wait. I’ve been too lonely lately, I don’t know what to do...” The mare’s eyes soften, just a little, before she turns back to you.
“Listen, kid, I get why you’re nervous. It’s your first time doing this, right? Well let me tell you, these girls are treated with respect. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want to be. Everyone needs a little affection sometimes, right?”
You gulp and nod, before taking out two months of your hard earned pay and hoofing it over. “Where do I go?” you ask, a trace of certainty making it into your voice. You’re committed now, and it makes things a little easier. You relax, and let the beast take you over once more as you follow the mare’s green hoof pointing down a dingy hallway towards a discreet, purple door.
The room isn’t what you thought it would be. No nicotine-stained windows, no dirty patches of carpet, no lingering scent of sweat and salt and shame. Rather, it’s bright and airy, the soft yellow walls contrasting with the deep blue of the thick carpet. A flavour of jasmine crosses your nose again, and your mind tries to drag itself back to the past. But the will of the beast snaps you back into the room. There’s a pristine double bed in the centre, all crisp white linen and burgundy pillows. But the bed pales in comparison to what’s sitting on it, waiting for you with her mouth just a little open.
Her grey coat shimmers in the dimmed lights, reflecting a thousand desires into your eyes. Long, shapely legs are parted slightly, hinting at her centre. Your knees go weak as you notice her mane is red. Nothing compared to the one you love, but it will do. For now. You feel a twinge at your heart as you remember her innocent laugh and wonder what she would think of you now. But the beast once again pushes the emotion aside, now drooling at what is to come.
“Hey. I’m Soft Kiss. Don’t be nervous, I’ll take good care of you. Why don’t you come over here and tell me what you like? I want to know what you want, and I want to give it to you,” she says with a smouldering smile.
You take a deep breath, letting yourself be dragged forward, still not quite believing this is happening. The sheets whisper against your coat as you climb up next to her, dizzy as you meet her soft gaze. She reaches out a hoof, and oh-so-gently places it upon your already-erect member.
“No. Not that,” you say, and she gives you a look of mild surprise. “I don’t want that. I don’t want your body like this.” You’re tripping over your thoughts as a pink haze slips across your vision, obscuring everything.
“Well, help me out here, honey. What do you like? Don’t be embarrassed—I’m here just for you. Nopony else matters, not here and now.” She moves her hoof to your flank, rubbing sensual circles over your cutie mark and making the beast growl and strain against the bars.
“I like... I like your mane. It’s beautiful,” you say, too ashamed to meet her eyes.
“Do you want to play with it?” she asks, tossing her head so that her mane catches the gentle rays of the lamp.
You nod mutely, and she brushes against you as she moves her head down to your flank, flames sizzling from each contact. She gathers up her mane and throws it across your hips, a few tendrils falling like rain down to your throbbing head. It twitches at the contact, and you close your eyes for a moment. You feel nothing but silken fire across your flank, teasing and pricking at your desire. Now the beast is truly roaring, clawing at your will with a predator’s feral voracity. Finally, the pressure is too much, and the frustration and loneliness of the past months breaks through the barrier of guilt and shyness.
You move urgently, shifting your legs to straddle her head. Her eyes are still locked on yours, playing with your desire and coaxing it forth. She wants you to do this, and you can do nothing but oblige. You gather up a good hoofful of that lustrous, shining river of flame and wrap it firmly around your penis. Using one hoof, and slowly at first, you start to move it up and down your shaft, moaning out loud at the pure pleasure crackling through your body. It is like nothing else, and you feel yourself slipping away into memory as her locks slip and tangle around your hard shaft.
You are standing just behind that beautiful, flawless mare, looking at a poster for the school dance. You want—so badly—to ask her, but the words won’t find your mouth. A thousand scenarios run through your head. Her rejection crushes you. Her acceptance elates you, tempered with yet more fear for the night itself. You hear her cruel laughter as she giggles and whispers to her friends, who point at you and snicker.
You try to choke back the nausea that overwhelms you, and finally you screw up your courage and move to ask her. But just as you take in a breath, she turns her head away towards a friend, and they both walk off. Maybe it was better this way, you think as you slink off in defeat. Bitter tears splash to the floor, marking your hoofsteps as you walk out of the school into the harsh, blinding sunshine.
“You okay there, studly? I’m not boring you, am I?” Soft Kiss asks with an amused glance.
“No, no, this is... heaven. You are amazing. I’ve never felt like this before,” you say, still dreamily half-lost in memory. The pain is old, and you are used to it. Now is for pleasure, now is for indulgence.
“Heh, a girl always likes to know she’s appreciated. Now, how about we try something new? Let me show you how I got my name...” She licks her lips wickedly slowly, moistening her mouth as she gently pulls her mane away from your shaft.
Your vision flashes white as she places her tongue on your hard tip. The sensation is like nothing before, and you have to work hard to keep the beast from bucking your hips and taking this luscious fruit by force. You quiver as she languidly engulfs your dick, and you feel a shameful snort of pride as she almost chokes on it when she reaches the base. Her tongue is rubbing circles around your head, stopping each time to flick along the underside. She is a master, sucking with an infuriating slowness, letting the pressure and pleasure build to the edge of your limit and then stopping. You lose track of how many times she’s brought you to the brink, only opening your eyes when you feel a cool breeze drift across your shaft and see her smile devilishly up at you.
“You like it, honey?” she says in a voice like molten velvet, and you can only moan and nod your appreciation.
“Then get ready to cum for me. I want to taste you at the back of my throat,” she says, once more taking your shaft deep, deep down into her throat, sucking harder than ever. You reach the edge once again, but this time she doesn’t stop. Her tongue works furiously around your head, giving you and the beast what you both have been craving for so long. Your cock twitches as you grab her head in your hooves and thrust into her, your seed exploding from you in what feels like gallons. She closes her throat around you, milking and draining you for every last drop as she gently squeezes your spasming balls.
You fall back onto the bed, utterly exhausted. Soft Kiss lies down next to you, flipping her mane onto your face as she pulls your arm around her.
“I like you, honey. You can sleep here for a while. Lets just lie together.” The last thought as darkness takes you is of your love. Your thoughts whirl in your head, but one feeling pervades through the miasma. This is far too good to stop. You feel somehow connected to this pony, even though you met her less than an hour ago. If such a connection can exist between strangers, you want to share it with the love of your life more than anything.
You will find her, you think to yourself.
And we will make her ours, the beast growls sleepily.
