The Fire Maned Pegasus of Cloudsdale

The big show is about to begin, and you’re running late! You fly to the Cloudosseum with as much strength and speed as you can muster, thinking to yourself that you just might break the sound barrier if you went any faster. No such luck, you’re still just a regular Pegasus. You make it to your destination with over twenty minutes to spare; good, you have just enough time to make it to her room. What do you mean ‘Who’s room’? Wow, you are thick, aren’t you? You’re going to see Spitfire! Remember her? She’s only been your best friend for the past year and a half!

How cool was that, when you first became friends with her? She’s the captain of the most famous flyers in all of Equestria! Most ponies would kill to be in a spot like that! The two of you were like peas in a pod, only you were that very obscure pea nopony thought much of, while Spitfire was like the coolest pea ever. She never treated you as some lame pity friend, though; she loved to hang out with you, sometimes more so than her fellow Wonderbolts. You never missed a show featuring them, and you were always there to cheer Spitfire and her team on. You were like their own personal sideline cheerleader. Yeah, they had a squad of those already, but you didn’t give a hoot.

It’s been well over a year after the day you took advantage of her friendship. When she came by to comfort you, after Soarin beat you up out of misplaced jealousy, you kissed her, and would have done much more if you didn’t get a hold of yourself. Spitfire was surprisingly forgiving, and agreed to continue the friendship with no harm or foul.

You continued to be there for her. You continued to be her best friend. Spitfire was happy that you were there for her so much, that she gave you your very own VIP booth in the Cloudosseum, and the ability to visit her before show time.

In fact, that’s what you’re supposed to be doing right now! Why are you reminiscing about this stuff? What’s wrong with you?! Go on, you idiot!

You plow through the crowd of reporters, paparazzi, and screaming fans, as you make your way to Spitfire’s dressing room. They bombarded you will all sorts of questions; how she was, your opinion on how she’s going to perform, if she was in a relationship with somepony named Rainbow Dash, all were very standard questions that you have heard a thousand times before ad nauseum. You didn’t bother with those ponies, you were here for one specific pony, and her door is standing a few more feet away from you.

Today was a big day for her; not only was she putting on an airshow with her fellow Wonderbolts, but today, she is performing her first solo flight show in front of the biggest crowd of the season, which included both Princess Celestia AND Princess Luna, in a very rare appearance. She told you that she had been practicing all week, and you want to go there to show your everlasting support for her. You even brought your video camera to catch the whole thing. She told you a couple days before that she was excited, but also extremely anxious, but you simply told her that everything was going to be alright, and that she would do a fantastic job. You meant it too; there really was nopony out there that could compete with her skills.

You open the door to her room, immediately slamming it shut, silencing the crowd of questioning ponies. Turning to see her, you notice something strange about her; costume not zipped up, elbows on the table in front of the mirror, looking ever so stressed out.

“Hey Spitfire? You okay?” you ask. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen her like this.

“Lock the door.” she tells you. You do so, no questions asked.

You trot over to her side, putting a caring hoof on her shoulder, wondering just what is happening with her. In fact, you should probably ask that question.

“What’s the matter?” you ask. Close enough.

“What do you think is the matter?” she snaps, “I’m nervous!”

“You? Nervous?” you chuckle at the absurdity, “I never thought of you as the nervous type.”

“Well, I am.” She puts her head down on the table, groaning in annoyance. “How many ponies are out there?”

“It’s a really big turnout. The Princesses have arrived, too.”

“UGH!” she yells, “That means if I mess up, I’ll be the laughing stock of Equestria!”

“You’re not going to mess up.” You try to reassure her, “You’ll do great.”

“I’ve been practicing all week, and I STILL can’t get the routine right! Now, I have to perform it in front of thousands of ponies by myself?! This is the worst day ever!”

“No, it’s not. You’ll pull through, you always have.” you give her a gentle smile.

“You wouldn’t be saying that, if it was you out there!” she snaps again. Your smile disappears. She sighs with remorse. “I’m sorry. You’re just trying to help, and I appreciate it.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re scared, and I understand.” you move your hoof to her back, caressing it with friendly intentions. “Look at yourself…” you see her look at herself in the mirror, “What do you see?”

“I see a nervous wreck, that’s what I see.” she jests.

“Really? I don’t see that at all.”

“Okay, I’ll bite. What do you see?”

“I see Spitfire; the most famous flier in all of Equestria. You’re smart, brave, and have the coolest mane I have ever seen…” your heart flutters when she chuckles at that last part, “…and you’re going to be perfection out there, just like you’ve always been.”

“That’s sweet of you to say.” her smile reforms back into a sad look, “But I…” she looks down again with doubt, “I wish that were true. My hooves are shaking, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.”

A knock on the door is heard.

“Fifteen minutes, Spitfire!” A pony calls out from the other side.

“Okay!” Spitfire shouts out, annoyed at him. She looks back at you with a scoff, “That guy shows up every five minutes. Doesn’t help with my nervousness at all. Makes it worse, really.”

“Alright…” you look more determined than ever to help her out, “Name it.” you say. She looks at you confused.

“What?”

“What do you need? Name it. I’ll give you anything you want. Anything you need to get rid of those pesky shakes. I’m here for you.”

“Anything…” you hear her whisper to herself, thinking about the possibilities.

“Yeah! Anything. I could get you a soda, some coffee, I hear candy helps. No drugs. I draw a line at drugs. I’m not going to have my best friend be a drug user, and turn this thing into an after school special. So come on….” you clap your hooves together in anticipation, “Tell me what you want.”

You watch her pause for about a minute, thinking of what she’s going to say next. A small smirk briefly graces her face, before she suddenly becomes serious. She turns to you; you’re ready to hear something very standard, perhaps silly. Maybe she does want water, maybe she wants you to do a silly chicken dance, maybe she wants…

“You.” she says.

Wait, what? You must be going crazy, best ask her to clarify.

“Excuse me?” you ask. “My ears are probably failing me, but did you just say…”

“You.” she finishes your question, “Nothing is wrong with your hearing.”

“Okay…but what do you want me to do?”

“I want…you.” Her eyes travel along your body, slowly…seductively. Gradually, you begin to understand what she’s talking about.

You pause, and for good reason too. Spitfire, your best friend, just asked you to have sex with her. You’re on your own here, buddy. Good luck.

“You’re just messing with me, aren’t you?” you try to laugh it off. She’s not laughing. “Wait…you’re serious?”

“You told me you would give me anything I wanted.”

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t expecting THAT.”

“So, you’ve thought about it?”

“N-No!” you stutter, of course you have. “No, of course not!”

“Look. I just told you want I want, and you have four minutes to do it.”

“FOUR MINUTES?!”

“I have to be out there ten minutes before the show starts. So, come on. Be quick about it.”

You back away slowly from her. If this is a joke, she’s taking it way too far. The look on her face says she’s not joking, but you don’t know that, you are supremely confused about all this.

“I know you’re stressed, but I can’t do this.”

She gets up, walking towards you with mad determination.

“I’m not giving you a choice.” She SLAMS you against the wall, ripping your video camera off your neck by its straps, throwing it on the floor. She quickly pulls her outfit off, revealing her naked body to you. That shouldn’t be weird for you; you hang out with her all the time with her outfit off, but it is when she takes it off in such a manner.

She opens her mouth, driving her tongue into yours for a rough kiss. Your eyes widen in shock, as she plays with your tongue. It’s messy, yet oh so erotic.

“You want this, don’t you?” she practically breathes out between kisses, ”I bet you fantasized about me all the time.” Yeah, you have. “That day, when you kissed me, you probably wanted to go further, didn’t you?” Yes… you did. “Did you think I was going to forget about that? I never forgot about that.”

Her hoof travels down, forcefully rubbing against your sheath until your quickly hardening member reveals itself to her.

“Spitfire, please…” you wince. You’re saying no, but your body is screaming yes. You’re doing nothing to fight it. In all honesty, you’ve wanted this for a long long time, and as much as you vocally protest, you cannot hide from the truth.

She looks down at your length, almost bug eyed at it.

“That’s what I’ve been missing?!” she compliments your size, something you never thought you would hear in your life. She kneels down, and without anything resembling a proper warning, wraps her lips around your length, and starts vigorously sucking you off, your member reaching well past the back of her throat.

“OH, SWEET CELESTIA!!!” you scream in your mind. Your wings pomf instantaneously, knocking over a lamp on a nearby table.

She stops mere seconds after starting, releasing your length from the grip of her mouth, watching it wobble in the air. She looks at it carefully, before declaring…

“Yeah…that looks wet enough.”

Suddenly, she gets closer to you, pressing herself against your chest, as she guides your shaft, and forcefully plunges it into her sex. You gasp in shock upon insertion. “You have two and a half minutes left.” she whispers, “Let’s go.”

Spitfire pulls you across the room, leading you right back to the table, where she sits down on top of it. She grabs onto you, and grinds your length hard and fast. You’re too shocked to do anything, but her gasps and moans are beginning to drive you insane. She loves the feeling of you inside her, which makes you even more frozen than ever. You don’t know whether to remain frozen, or to pound her into oblivion. You are about to proceed with the first option, when on a whim, you look into the mirror, watching her rock you like a hurricane. It was at that moment, where the reality of what is happening, has finally set in for you.

“This is happening…I’m actually doing it…” you think to yourself.

“Come on…” she moans into your ear, “I can’t do all the work myself. I have a show to do.”

You look back into her eyes; she stares into your soul as she rides you. You put your hooves on her shoulders.

“You’re right.” you tell her, “You do.”

Suddenly, your primal urges take hold, as you grab onto her, and pull her to the floor, onto her back. She gasps at your sudden aggression, but not unwelcomingly so, as you mercilessly thrust into her hard. Now you’re doing all the work, pounding her harder and harder. She moans in ecstasy, revelling in you taking her like there is no tomorrow.

“Yes!” she shouts, “This is what I want! This is EXACTLY what I want!”

This is exactly what you want, too. This could very well be the greatest moment of your entire life…too bad it’s about to come to an end in about a minute. You don’t have much longer until your big finish. The pressure inside your crotch begins to build at a rapid pace. You try to fight it, but it’s not working in the slightest.

“Spitfire…” you gasp.

“No, not yet.” she tells you.

She can see your struggle, and she decides to exacerbate it. She grabs you by the shoulders, hurriedly flipping you over on your back, as she rides the hell out of you like a cowpony on a bull, bucking her hips back and forth, which does absolutely nothing for your ever decreasing stamina.

“Oh my…” she pants, “Almost there, almost there, almost there….” Her moans become louder, and more strained. You are so happy that the reporters outside are still louder than she is; they are missing the story of a lifetime.

It’s then, that you think to yourself, “I really hope the record button on the video camera didn’t get pressed when….oh my….” you can’t even finish your thought; because you’re about to unleash yourself into her.

You tense up, you’ve hit your breaking point. It’s probably a good time to tell her.

“Spitfire, I…” you cannot utter another word, once she puts a hoof over your mouth, as she reaches her impending climax.

“I’m cumming!” she shouts, “AHHH!!!!”

Her inner walls tighten around your length, giving you the opportune moment. You explode your seed inside of her, as her juices flow out of her and onto your lap. You hold your breath at the power of your orgasm. The room is dead silent, neither one of you making any kind of noise during the climactic moment of your quick love making. Finally, the two of you stop with your orgasm-fest, and take a moment to breathe. She collapses onto you, breathing heavily on the floor behind you.

“That…hit the spot…” she said, “Thank you.”

Now, it’s your turn to talk. You just had sex with your best friend, and you enjoyed every minute of it. Well, once you got into it anyway. This will probably just be a weird chapter in your relationship with her, so you best say something funny right now to lighten the mood.

“Spitfire…I love you…” you say.

Or…you can admit that you love her. That’s cool too.

You couldn’t kidd yourself any further; you’ve been in love with this mare since the moment you laid eyes on her. It’s only natural that one day, you would have to admit your feelings for her, one way or another. Even after we agree to let it all go, and pretend like it never happened, we both knew that this day would come…it was just fate that you happened to do it after a session of spontaneous, sweaty, fast and rough sex.

She pauses for what felt like ages. Slowly, she brings her head up to face you, looking at you for an uncomfortable amount of time. There is no emotion on her face; you have no clue just what in the hay she is thinking right now.

A knock on the door is heard.

“Spitfire!” the pony on the other side calls out, “Ten minutes till showtime!”

You both turn to the door, but Spitfire is the one to talk.

“Okay, I’ll be right out.” she says in a less rude tone than the last time. She looks back down at you. “I have to get going.” She gets off of you, and you feel your length slide out of her; a very strange feeling. You watch her as she canters to her outfit, drops of your seed coming out of her with each step, but she doesn’t seem to notice, or very much care. She slips into the outfit easily, and then puts on her goggles. Once she is zipped up, she walks past you to the door.

“You should probably step back a little bit.” She tells you, “The press might not want to see a stallion in your…’condition’ laying in the middle of my dressing room.” You notice her looking at your descending erection. You blush as you get up, and take a few steps back. “When you’ve cleaned up, I’ll see you in the VIP booth after the show, okay?”

“Yeah. Sure thing.” You put on your best smile. “I’ll see you then. Oh, and uh…good luck.”

“Thanks.” she nods and smiles, putting the goggles over her eyes. With a quick flip of the psychological switch, she opens the door, and becomes the egotistical Spitfire that everypony loves to see, greeting the press with smiles and waves. As they throw every sort of question at her…she closes the door, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

You gallop to your camera, picking it up, looking straight at the lens. Right next to it…the red light is on. Your mouth widens in shock. In a hurry, you stop the recording, and rewind the tape, stopping it after a few seconds. Pressing play, you see it. Spitfire, riding you nonstop, and you with a look of euphoria on your face. You stop the tape, looking at the mirror, staring closely at yourself as the gravity of everything that has happened hits you like a ton of bricks.

“Sweet Celestia…” you say to your reflection, “This…isn’t happening…is it? No, no it couldn’t be. You’re just having some kind of weird dream. I mean, Spitfire wouldn’t just come out and have sex with you on a whim. That’s just crazy…right?” You look back at the camera, watching the rest of the tape until your climax. Watching yourself cum is a very odd sight to see. You should probably turn that off. You do. Good. You look back at yourself in the mirror.

“Okay. Say that this isn’t a dream. That this is all real, and you just told Spitfire that you loved her. What are you going to do?” You think about this for a few moments. “Tell her that you didn’t really mean it? No. You can’t do that with a straight face. Then again, you’ve kept this secret for so long, maybe she’ll believe you. No. No it’s not going to work. Okay brain, what other ideas do you have?” Sorry, I have nothing for you. You sigh, unable to think up a plausible solution to this quandary. “You’re in trouble, aren’t you?” Yep…major trouble.

The intercom in the room comes on.

“The 200th Annual Equestrian Air Show is about to begin! Everypony, take your seats. We will start in under ten minutes.”

You gather yourself up, breathing in and out at what is to come. You decide to wait on it, putting the topic in a metaphorical ‘later’ drawer in your brain; right next to ‘ambitions in life’ and ‘sexual thoughts about Spitfire’. Besides, you came there to cheer her on, and dammit, you’re going to do so. You re-attach the straps to the camera, wrap it around your neck, and march right out that door to watch your best friend wow that crowd.

She certainly wowed you not a few minutes ago.

Yeah, this is definitely something you two are going to have to talk about after the show. Right now, you’re just going to have to enjoy yourself.