The Heat of the Moment
Sitting on her old blue couch, devouring her t.v.-dinner, Cheerilee stared with empty eyes at her wall. Her green plastic dinner tray, comprised of half eaten bread and a rose salad, sat on her cherry wood table just in front of her, her appetite having wavered halfway through her meal. Tonight was heavy, thick with a type of emotional sludge that settled down from her low ceiling. Her eyes were forced open and tired, her lips tight yet sluggish. Her arms were at her command, heavy though they were, and even walking was a job in itself.
Earlier that day, her class had driven her up a wall. Or two, the ceiling, then the other two. She was on the verge of chucking her blackboard erasers at them. Besides, she rationed, bit of target practice would do her good. She needed some relief. As she stared blankly at her white plaster wall, she let out a deep sigh. It wasn't in her to be mean, especially not to the fillies that brought her so much joy, but every once and a while, one of those tempting thoughts crept into her mind...
She shook the thoughts from her head, turning to examine her quarters and abandon her mind for a moment. The tiny linear apartment wasn't much; but hay, what else could she afford on a teacher's salary, though?
"A box," she grumbled, finishing her thought aloud. Looking about the square confines of her living room - if it could be called such - she admitted to herself that there wasn't much of a difference. There was a tiny bookshelf of thick oak on the back wall, just behind the couch. On either side were tiny pinewood tables, atop which sat a phone and a porcelain vase filled with wilting roses. The place was carpeted with a distasteful grey that matched the bland walls and the awful ceiling. The only things that added life to the surroundings were the vibrant pictures tacked to the wall. Most were of her and her class at the happy times, when she wasn't trying to cram detentions down their throats to make them shut up. That in mind, she shifted to the better pictures, those of her and another, familiar pinkish pony.
Her eyes set themselves upon a certain picture that sat just beside the tiny archway the fed straight into the stark white kitchen, and then finally to her cramped bedroom and bathroom. This photo, surrounded by a cheap wooden frame from pony-mart and pinned to the wall with a nail, was by far the best in her collection. Springtime was creeping into the corners with a festive floral display. In the foreground there sat a willow tree - the old, twisted one that sat on the edge of Ponyville. It's leaves were in full bloom, green and emerald abound. These tiny gems shaded the hill beneath them, where, with silent smiles, she and the notorious Berry Punch snuggled deeply between the roots.
Cheerilee actually smiled. Despite the long day of begging for death, she found condolences in this drunkard of a mare. Not many ponies saw much in Berry - hay, not even she did at first - but in time, the mare had really grown on her. Really, really grown on her. Her smile grew just a bit bigger as her eyes softened; that infamous mare was truly quite the pony.
At times, anyway, but that was something she just didn't want to touch right now. Shifting back around to face her bare front wall again, she let loose a long sigh. Right now, she still felt sick and tired. Tiny little clacks of rain against her kitchen window bounced around the three dim rooms, signaling yet another pegasus failure. What was supposed to be a bright snowy December day was a wet, sludge-ridden night, only adding to the lonely mare's somber disposition. She sighed again, the next of many repeated breaths, and looked down at her table.
Next to her scoured dinner tray was a little candle, the only one alight in the room. Its orange glow seeped into the walls and floor with little to not warmth offered. The tiny flame atop its wicker waved in the still air, tossing its light left and right with it. The white pillar melted down into a little iron candleholder, a vanilla scent wafting from it. Cheerilee took in a good, deep whiff of it; it wasn't the best - in fact, it was rather strong - but for a bit per pack of six, she couldn't refuse.
Beside the candle was a thin blue paperback novella, the words In Heat etched across the bottom of it in shiny golden calligraphy. The picture was sly and oblique, showing no more than two mare's heads, sweaty and beet red as a bridge of saliva linked their lips. The teacher blushed at the sight, despite having seen it and used it much in the past.
There was a tension in her body that had built throughout the day. Her muscles ached, her head throbbed. And now, as her minty green eyes traced the naughty cover, she craved to be rid of it. Every move she took was full of reluctance and soreness. Here was the answer to it. Here was what she had been looking forward to all day.
She leaned in to grip it, but pulled back. What would Berry think? She had called earlier, and said she would try to make it over tonight, but those odds weren't looking so good. Cheerilee intently listened to the faint pattering of rain in the darkness, severed only by the occasional boom of thunder. Nopony would be mad enough to traverse this kind of weather. Nopony but a drunkard, that is.
Even so, the tightness in her back was unbelievable. If Berry were here, she'd give one of her famous 'massages' - Cheerilee's preferred way of unwinding - but she wasn't. The light purple mare was alone, with nothing but this dim candle for the mood, and that dirty novel for company.
Moments later, and she surrendered to her urges. She leaned in, overextending her stiff back for a brief moment before finally collapsing with her prize in her hooves. Her back reclined, stiff and sore, on the couch. She grimaced as she eased it back into place, letting the cushions take firm hold of her.
She drew the novella out, flipping it open to a bulge in the sheets. It had been a while since she opened the book, and she had no clue of what was going on where she was. Nor did she know how far in she was until she pried it ajar. On page 127 was where she landed, a thick, long bookmark that read Worlds Best Teacher in scribbled green crayon separating the two halves of the story. A tiny chuckle slipped her lips; it was ironic, using a bookmark made by one of her students to separate two sensual ponies in the act.
With care she slid the wedge from its place, tossing it gently on the table. It landed by her dinner tray, and skid across to just beneath the candleholder. Cheerilee nodded at her work, shaking her pink stripped mane from her eyes as she turned down to the book to inspect her lost place.
Candy licked reverently at the pink slits of Moonshine's privates, drawing forth a heavy moan from the crimson red mare.
Cheerilee gasped, intense desire flooding her veins and swelling in her haunches. This wasn't the slow build up she had expected - this was a rush. All her muscles contracted, even her strained back. She too gave a moan, though it differed greatly from the fictional Moonshine's. This was a moan that only a sore, tired, and tense pony could give as her body betrayed her. Hoof to her spine, she did her best to relax, and eventually she did, easing back onto the couch once more.
As all but her heating loins relaxed, she refocused her attention to the story once again. This time she was ready for the rapid increase that her mind was so eager to pitch. With squinted eyes and nerves - or haunches - of steel, she read on.
Moonshine gripped the silken sheets upon which she lay, clutching them close to her chest as her lover lapped up her flowing juices.
"Oh...screw waiting," she whispered to herself, shifting the book to rest on but one sole hoof. Her other hoof - her right one, to be precise - latched itself to her chest, slowly grazing her fur as it descended lower and lower. She could soon feel the building heat on her arm as she continued her linear fall to her haunches.
Then, she landed right upon her throbbing sex, the ready slits parting as she applied the slightest pressure. The first touch was always the most sensual, and waves of pleasure riveted her mind. The drowned out her back, her muscles, and even her headache as her hoof pushed down ever so lightly.
Her hind legs spread apart. Letting loose a quiet moan, she came to a likeable pressure, and began slowly grinding in a circle, smearing the beginning drivel of her fluids around her pink fur. Her eyes were locked intently on the book, reading on and on as the heat of her nether continued to build.
Candy's own sex was bulging and warm as she attended to it with a free hoof, grazing it's sensitive lips up and down its length, making sure to pay extra attention to the tiny exposed bulb at the top.
Cheerilee took this into consideration, stopping her circular rubbing at the very tip of her quivering slit. There, a tiny lump was basking in the cold air. She rested her hoof atop it, gently, oh ever so gently rubbing it. It was a mere brush, but a scrap atop this bundle of nerves, and the small waves of pleasure morphed into a tsunami of euphoria. A moan escaped her lips, her eyes rolling up away from the printed paper in her hoof. Her mouth spread agape as she tenderly pushed down against this bulb, easing up and repeating the motion every so often.
Her eyes falling back to their normal position, she read further on.
The heat was immense; pleasure shot through them each as though they were one, beaming from Candy's drenched slit up to and through Moonshine's own.
Just then, the mare, cheeks red and face tensed, pressed with as much might as she dared against this sensitive little lump, squeezing it down and harshly massaging it in a circle. She bit her bottom lip hard, trying her hardest to suppress the loud moan that dangled from the tip of her tongue. Instead, she gasped, sucking in quickly as her pace increased. The slickness of her sex was only increasing as her fluids dribbled down, leaving little clear trails on her butt and dropping to the couch cushion below.
A creaking to her right grabbed the mare's attention, snapping her head over and dropping the book to the floor. In the wooden apartment door stood a soaking wet figure. Her pink mane was aglow via the candle, shimmering as little droplets of rain trailed from her. Mane down and tail soaked, this figure looked at Cheerilee though wide eyes.
"I, um, hello Berry," she said with a nervous smile, yanking her hoof away. Much to her dismay, thin strands of slick clear fluid trailed off with it, lashing out onto the table in front of her. Her face filled with immense heat as her heart fluttered in an awkward fear.
"Well, this is unexpected," the pink, soaking wet mare noted. She trudged her way in from the cement hallway, shuffling her hooves on the thick straw mat just outside the doorway. When she was in, she curtly closed the door, locking it behind her.
"I-I, uh-"
"Chill cherry butt, I'm not gonna judge." Berry snickered as she turned to face the still shocked expression on her marefriend's face.
"I can explain," she defended, "It was a long day. T-The kids were rough today, and I'm sore, and-"
"You were relaxing, duh." The strangely sober mare gave a devious smile as she approached, swerving around the end table and up to Cheerilee. The teacher had sunken down on the couch, slumped over and beet red as she avoided eye contact. Berry paid her actions no mind; rather, she bent down to the dropped book, chuckling as she eyed it's turned up cover. "In Heat, eh? I bet you can relate."
She lifted her head, and pressed her nose to Cheerilee's. The pink mare gasped, her cheeks turning a deeper crimson than before. Berry did not keep this contact for long, only enough to let her breath ease over her marefriend's face with a heave. After, she bent lower, sticking her nose between the warm, wet haunches of the mare. She took a good, audible sniff, saying, "You were busy I see."
Cheerilee began to respond, her mouth open and the slightest hint of a word dropping from her tongue. But she was stopped dead as the flexible tongue of Berry Punch wormed its way up and down the drying lips of her nether. She let out a weak, wavy moan as the warm tongue grazed the her insides, moving up and soon toying with her little exposed clitoris.
"But you don't need a book for what I can do," the alcoholic chortled, lapping away at the steaming region in front of her lips. She gave a tiny little kiss to the tiny sensitive lump - her signature that things were falling under her control - before sliding it between her lips completely. They pursed around it, playfully suckling and licking away. Cheerilee pressed her hooves on the sofa seat, digging them deeply in as all protests faded away to pulse after pulse of pleasure.
Berry tickled it a bit more as she pressed her forelegs against Cheerilee's chest, pushing her back. The purplish mare put up no fight, simply turning and laying her aching, ready body down the length of the couch. Berry broke away to let her swing her hind legs up, before crawling atop the couch herself and pressing her wet body against the mare beneath her.
Cheerilee moaned at the touch of wet fur as Berry let only part of her full weight lean upon her. They came face to face, the pink mare's deviant smile only a hair away from Cheerilee's loose lips. "Now whatcha gonna do cherry butt?"
There was no time for an answer; Berry pressed her lips against the mare's, locking them together. She slid her tongue - which was still laced with the juices of a certain aroused teacher - deep into her mouth, twirling and spinning it around the other.
"It's my turn to be the teacher," she whispered as they parted lips. Just after, she locked her hind legs in position with Cheerilee's, quickly lowering her sex to meet the pinned mare's own. Before anything could be said, the two warm nethers locked with mere pressure, bringing forth a moan from them both.
Berry took charge. She thrust her hips up, grazing her sex against Cheerilee's. They meshed and morphed together in a sensual dance, warm liquid forming about the sensitive lips. She went down, dragging herself across her lover once again. Ecstasy rocked them both in a tidal wave.
Up and down grinded the pink alcoholic atop Cheerilee, pressing their dribbling sexes together harder and harder each time. Soon the pressure was rough and the speed hasty, the couch shaking in rhythm with Berry's pushes. Their lips met again, tongues dancing around each other, exploring each other, tasting each other.
The pressure was building. Berry was no longer being sensual - this was force. She pressed heavily against the Cheerilee's sensitive caverns with her own, thrusting herself up and down, shaking and riveting the mare beneath her. It soon came to be that the teacher could not even get a moan in; all she had to offer were gasps and occasional violent shakes. Berry did not relent, however. She continued slamming her throbbing sex against her marefriend, splashing their fluids down beneath them.
Her rocking was becoming disorganized and sporadic, and her breaths - as well as Cheerilee's, who was red as the sun. Berry's face scrunched hard as she kept going, letting the heat build and the liquid flow. Her hooves pressed against her marefriend's arms, truly pinning her to the couch, helpless.
She smashed her hips up against Cheerilee as she lifted herself above the shaking mare. With even more leverage now, she continued to pulse and grind, rubbing the two sweet spots together like flint. The spark was close now, and the fire ever nearer. With Cheerilee helpless beneath her, she continued to harshly grind, building the pressure more and more.
They were at their unanimous bursting point now. The purplish mare, pinned though she was, tried her best to speak, to alert Berry of the deep burning in her loins. All that came out was a streak of gasps and slurs.
Berry was doing the same. She could only suck in the air, for fear of not breathing at all. Her muscles clamped tight, but she kept going. Almost there, almost...
The climax hit them, a hurricane of pleasure, ecstasy, and endorphins. There was no point in struggling - they both screamed. Not fully, but loud enough to overpower their pants and the rain. Cheerilee squirmed beneath her mare oppressor, twitching with spasms that rippled through her. Berry's head was tossed back as she slammed her sex to the mare one last time, harder than before. They meshed, spraying out a display of clear fluid that stained their fur.
Berry collapsed, pressing wholly atop Cheerilee. Their breaths were heavy, and now, neither knew if the wetness that soaked both of their warm, shaking bodies was from the rain or sweat. Not that it mattered; they were content in each other's arms, wrapped in a loose embrace. It would've been tighter, naturally, if they could actually use their muscles, but for now it would do.
"T-Thanks," was all Cheerilee could force out.
"A-Anytime, cherry butt."
The two laid there together, by the dim candle in silence for some time. Their eyelids drooped, and minds fluctuated between reality and dream.
At last, with all the strength she could muster, Berry Punch leaned over, giving the candle a tiny gust. The light was killed in an instant, and once the sounds of two mares shifting settled, only the tiny clanks of the rain on cold glass filled the air.
Just before the darkness came for them, just before they fell asleep in each other's loving grasps, they exchanged their love.
"I love you," Cheerilee sighed into the darkness, her voice weak and trembling.
"I love you too," Berry said. And just before they succumbed to the beautiful curse of sleep, she added, "But I'm still getting hammered in the morning."