Riding the Roadie
The door to a cramped, dimly-lit dressing room opened with a prolonged creak. The sounds of dispersing crowds cheerfully wafted in from the venue's stage two corridors away, accompanied by the click-clacks of a lead guitarist's high-heel boots.
Sunset Shimmer sashayed into the small interior, flicking on a rose-tinted overhead light along the way. She wore a glittery red full-length gown, brimming with ruby sequins that had dazzled on stage. In here, they added to the low-key crimson sheen of the room, now heated by still-labored breaths from a full night's jam session. A coat of sweat clung to the young woman's scantily-covered cleavage, and her scarlet hair was frayed from tossing it through an innumerable amount of glamorous guitar poses.
As for the instrument in question: it lay cradled in the loving arms of a fidgety young man of Sunset's age, but only a fraction of her glorious zeal. Flash Sentry bore a crooked smile, stammering while struggling to shuffle along in Sunset's stilettoed saunter. "That was quite a sh-show you put on tonight, Sunset! The Rainbooms are moving on up, for sure!"
"Uh-huh," she grunted, reaching down and fumbling with an ornamental belt of beads cinched below her dress' shiny bodice.
"And you totally outshone Rainbow Dash!" Flash said, very... very gently propping her electric guitar up against its stand... treating it like a precious infant. "You didn't even need to try! I think it's official by now, Sunset! You're the leader of these rockin' girls." He winked, blushing slightly as he crossed his arms and squirmed in the center of the miniscule room. "If not in contract, then certainly in spirit!"
"Uh-huh." She tossed the beads over the back of a worn-out sofa occupying a third of the room. Squatting on a desk chair facing a vanity, Sunset spun around and lifted one boot high in the air.
"In fact—I-I don't know if you've paid any attention to the e-mails I sent you this week... y'know... about recording your own solo album?" Flash ran a hand through his handsome blue hair, blushing more. "But... but I-I just know you would skyrocket up to the top of the charts if you only took the time to—"
Sunset Shimmer cleared her throat.
"Hmmm?" Flash blinked.
The young woman waggled her outstretched boot. Her golden brow creased.
Flash instantly blanched. "Oh! Right!" He reached forward, gently grasped her boot, and slowly pulled it off with the grace of a maid. Or a midwife. Or just Flash Sentry. "My bad. I-I was just trying to... uh... remind you about—"
"Hurry up," Sunset Shimmer grunted. Once the first boot was off, she raised the second one, its stiletto scraping its way up Flash's leg and nearly ripping the cuff off his shorts. "The girls and I are meeting up at the Candy Coach Diner in an hour for supper."
"Oh really?" Flash repositioned himself to remove Sunset's second boot with as little discomfort to the lady as possible. "Well, that sounds like fun! I... uh... I don't suppose that—"
"You're staying here," Sunset Shimmer rubbed her eyes and stifled a yawn. "I don't want any assholes taking my stuff. Not that I expect you to kick anyone's butt—but so long as you're here to watch over it, they'd have to put murder on their records to take it all."
"Yes, well... I... uh..." Flash coughed, smiling as he peeled Sunset's socks off as well, interrupting the tranquility of the room with a brief and invasive musk. "I-I'm glad to do my part!" He gently folded the sweat-stained articles on the floor beside the two boots—which were also neatly spaced apart. "And I-I wasn't suggesting that I rain on your parade, only that you might consider... uhm..."
Sunset Shimmer stood up from the chair. As Flash talked, she reached into her own dress, unhooked her bra, and slid the lace-onyx article out from underneath. She handed it out to the boi...
...who took it and grabbed a hanger for the sweat-scented article without breaking his speech. "...mentioning the song lyrics I wrote for the next session? I mean... it's no big deal, I guess, b-but it would help me get a bit of a boost in my own attempts at wooing an agent. Not that I-I don't enjoy being you girls' roadie or anything, but I-I just haven't found the time to record my own samples lately, and it would really help if—"
"Zipper," Sunset exhaled, backing up towards him.
"Huh? Oh! O-of course!" He took a deep breath to steady his hands.
With a nimble, chaste touch, Flash slid the fastener down the supple curve of Sunset Shimmer's backside. The dress split apart with a sigh, exposing polished, amber shoulders, a scrumptious, full backside, and black-laced boyshorts clinging to the apex of the woman's shapely hips. Once the number slinked away, Sunset stepped out, half-naked and fully deified by room’s toasty gleam.
A dry breath caught in Flash's throat—as it always did—and with practiced grace he averted his eyes from the masterpiece bird-stepping from the garment’s embrace. A familiar buzz filled his veins and pumped in his ears. He ignored it as best he could as he bent over to pick up her dress—still warm—and dutifully hung it next to her brassiere.
"I... uh... I understand if you're busy with..." He gulped, his fingers lingering a few seconds too long after smoothing the hanging dress out. "...w-with the Rainbooms tour and all..."
"I'm always busy," she muttered, cold and stoic. All the enthusiasm had drained out of her during the night's session, leaving a stale thickness in its wake. She bent over before the mirror, nipples scraping the air between herself and her stoic reflection. With careful motions, the woman wiped clean the glitzy makeup from her face until she looked as monochromatic as the personality she had carried into that room. However, with each surmounting second, a different kind of enthusiasm rose up, poisonously passionate, forming a raspiness beneath her throat that rattled irritably at Flash's constant dialogue. "Wouldn't it be simple enough to take my fucking word for it, Flash?"
"I… uhhhhh—" He stirred, red-faced, fidgeting in the center of the room.
"I've told you already that I'll look into borrowing some of your stupid lyrics," Sunset spat. She stood up straight, glaring at something past the mirror. "Besides—it's not like it's up to me. I have to get Rainbow Dash to give your stuff a thumbs up."
"I... uhm..." Flash dug the toe of his sneaker into the floor. His legs bent with a sigh and he seemed to shrink about a foot beneath her. "...I understand."
"Rainbow can be such an annoying little cunt..." Sunset Shimmer stared at her reflection in sudden rigidity. She inhaled. "Such..." She reached a hand out—watching the whole time—and brought it to her own breast, squeezing and kneading in between each word. "...an annoying fucking cunt." She exhaled.
Flash wasn't looking right then. "I'm sorry that you have to deal with her all the time."
"It's more than that..." Sunset inhaled again—through flaring nostrils. Her own fingers spider'd a trail beneath her left breast—but that was the final touch of grace. She savagely squeezed herself, summoning a scarlet shade throughout her upper body until it matched the color of the room. "...I have to smile at her every day..." She exhaled, her tongue lingering against the roof of her mouth, dry and desperate. Turquoise eyes met in the center of the mirror, and they formed cracks. "...give her friggin' hugs in the parking lot." Sunset's fingers pinched a single nipple, rolling back and forth until it turned to diamond. "Now I'm having fucking dinner with her."
"Is…” His voice rolled slowly, balancing upon a tell-tale cliff. “...is there anything I can do to make it all better for you, Sunny?"
Sunset's frown dissipated with a final breath, and she swallowed until it was lost in the heat between her abused areolas. She held clenched fists at her side, standing naked and firm in lace black boyshorts, like some Playboy chesspiece. At long last, she chiseled words into the stone air of the room: "I need to relax before going out."
"Oh yeah?" Flash perked up, smiling a boi's smile. "Want me to fetch you some M&M's from the vending machine out back? Put on some Kenny G—"
The entire room spun. Well, not exactly, but it might as well have—from the sheer magnitude of Sunset's granite twirl and solid march straight into Flash, ending with a savage palm to the chest.
"Fwoof!" he let loose with an effeminate yelp, falling flat onto the length of the couch.
Only to have Sunset fall flat onto the length of him—more like drape her liquid self over his trembling body, nipples scraping his baseball tee like coyote claws ripping at the pelt. He would have said something, but her mouth was already covering his—suffocating his. With savage lips and an even more savage tongue, Sunset Shimmer ensnared the young man's whimper-hole. Her hands scraped up his neck and to his face and then to his scalp and massacred his hair with brushing-tugging-brushing motions. Every tangled twist brought a cry from the base of his throat, one she reciprocated with a hot exhale all over his delicate, goose-pimpled flesh.
"Hands." She seethed. In so doing, she snaked two talons down and grabbed the boiwrists in question. "On my ass." She shoved his palms under the waistband of her panties and applied vicious pressure. "Squeeze. Now."
"S-Sunset..." He sputtered, his face a fresh Picasso of hickies and saliva. Had Sunset not removed her makeup, Flash would have been full Jackson Pollock by then. "I... I..." Stars formed in his eyes. "Oh gosh, I love—"
"Shut the fuck up, suck cuck!" she hissed, grabbing a full head of hair and yanking him face-first into her bosom. "And suck, cuck!"
For all the mayhem of this sudden descent into decadence, Flash had been stapled with this task before. Within a second, he was obediently suckling and licking at her tits. It was an awkward, sloppy, clumsy job, but that's precisely what she wanted. And expected. This was accompanied with his overwhelmed trembles and his ardent squeezes to her ass that desperately mauled her cheeks inward and outward, forming posterior poetry in the heated room's red gasps. Her gasps.
"Ohhhhhhhh fuck..." Sunset bristled; Sunset shook. "Don't you stop..." With undulating, feline motions, she rubbed her chest across Flash's hyperventilating face, over and over, threatening to put out an eye with her fully-erect nipples—perhaps wanting to. "Don't you dare fucking stop...!"
Once she was fully-assured that he would worship her ass on his own, she freed her hands to touch... herself. She snaked her fingers up her body, tickling her own rib-cage before finding her hair and lifting the tousled lengths heavenward like a true goddess in heat.
"Ffffffffff—" She opened her mouth wide, sampling the air with her tongue before clasping her teeth down on a pent-up breath. "I need this. I need this!" With a sudden snarl, she flung a fist down and punched Flash's shoulder. "What are you waiting for, you little sissy?! Bite it!"
A frail squeak flew through Flash's teeth, but nothing more—for he was clamping those down on the end of one of Sunset's nipples. Steel met steel in the heat of the moment, and the resulting friction sent a bright spark up Sunset's spine.
"Fuck!" she howled to the ceiling, slapping Flash's shoulder again—this time in reward, but no less painful. "Bite me, you ballet bottom bitch!" She straddled Flash's right leg and squeezed in horny desperation, leaving a streak of arousal clinging to the skin of his thigh with each grinding motion of her pantied crotch. "Act like you fucking mean it this time!" A discordant moan, and she arched her back up, pressing her own palms to her deliciously sore nipples as she hissed to the walls. "Do I fucking gotta do everything in this band?! Fuck... Fuck me!"
Flash sputtered, squinting up through one eye. The rosy light of the world was silhouetted by the reverse keyhole of Sunset's hourglass shadow shifting and dancing atop him. He sensed an indescribable heat rivuleting up and down his thigh. The experience made him feel tiny, fragile, and more than a little bit violated. To make a long story short, the erection was very real. A primal layer to the young man responded cerebrally to her repetitive demands, and he slid a numb hand out from beneath the elastic of her underwear and towards the zipper of his own shorts.
"What are you doing?!" Sunset, fiery and lucid, stabbed her gaze through the moment. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" She batted his hand away from his own groin with the force of a tomahawk missile. "You think you know what you want?!?" Then—with a grunt and a frog leap—she lifted off of his thigh and came thundering down crotch-first over Flash Sentry's mouth. There, she straddled the boi's face with the wettest thing in the room, with only a layer of dark lace and darker threats keeping him from fully drowning. "This!" She growled victoriously, rubbing her laced slit furiously over Flash's face, nose, and mouth. "This is what you fucking want, you little bitch!!!"
Sunset's cruelty forsook empathy, kindness, and sincerity. The growing tent in Flash's shorts forsook everything else. He moaned euphorically into that satin blindness of musk and moisture. He was at a loss for words—or oxygen—to do anything but worship her with tender kisses and tongue-lashes against that sultry ceiling of pantied rug-burn. The venom in Sunset's words only emphasized the depravity of the moment: how lowly and pathetically Flash was being used as a human pillow hump. The only thing hotter than her grinding sex were the tears of joy seeping from his rolling eyes.
"MmmmMMmm—fuck!" Sunset Shimmer was practically bouncing on his face now, her long-learned Homo sapien vernacular reduced to a four-letter'd word chanted in an aroused mantra. "Fuck... Fuck! Fuck!" Her thighs squeezed the bloodflow from Flash's ears as she began thrusting back and forward, adding pressure to the red raw vagicide. "F-Fuckkkk you, Rainbow Dash! You think you're so awesome?!"
Flash Sentry fought for grasping air—and in so doing, he was rewarded with a brand new atmosphere wafting heatedly across his mouth. Sunset had pulled her panties aside, and now her shaved pussy lips glided—slick and salivating—over his face and chin, aiming the notch of his nose square against her throbbing clit. If before Flash felt like he had been casually strolling down a breezy beach shore—the entire ocean had now been opened to his wheezing breaths, and he dove full-first into it.
"You think you're so awesome, you cunt?!" Sunset seethed. While the venom in her voice remained, the menace had begun dissipating with increasing octaves of squeaky desperation. The horny little mare inside Sunset was stampeding to the surface, bucking against the red roofs of her heaving breasts and threatening to burst out in a full-on banshee shriek. She rode her way up towards the crest with Flash's trembling face stuck between her thighs, and the idle threats sang higher and higher. "You fucking cunt, Rainbow Dash! Suck me off, you cunt!" She bounced and grinded and savaged the sapient fuckboi beneath her, tightening the screw, reddening the cork to pop in his face. "Suck me off you fucking Rainbow cunt! You think you're so awesome, then prove it! Suck it! Suck it suck it suck it suck it! Drink it!"
Somewhere beyond the sphere of Flash's entrapment, he recognized a Pavlovian trigger meant for him and him alone. He took a breath breath—scarcely afforded through the periphery of his ordeal—and he exhaled hotly across Sunset's labia, following the soft gesture by a hearty stab-stab-stabbing of his tongue against the pinkest point of her clit.
The fencing technique worked. His opponent imploded—echoed by siren screams—and she emptied the full volume of all her frustration, her anger, her arousal, and her joy against him... all over him... in spastic spurts, baptizing his shame with the impenetrable carnality of the moment—so much so that it splattered across his brow and trickled down his earlobes and into his canals, deafening him. For a brief, blissful moment, Flash Sentry couldn't hear, couldn't see, and couldn't touch. But in the delicious depths of that numb abyss, he could smell... and he could taste. And it was as if the only woman that mattered in his life had sanctified him for a grand sacrifice, and he felt the soft urge to cry.
But that ritual was never completed. As soon as the christening was over, she lifted off of him. The world turned cold, dry, and lucidly sterile.
Flash Sentry gasped, feeling the weight come off him. He felt thin, frail, and more than a little bit hungry. His aching erection against the fly of his pants was a testament to this, a testament that was promptly ignored.
Weakly, he glanced off the couch, looking a mile away to where Sunset's figure casually shuffled. He saw her bending over—pussy peeking out from the pulled-lengths of her boishorts, still glistening from her explosive release. She was rummaging through her stupidly huge purse, almost reaching elbow-deep. At last, she reemerged with the object of her search—a pack of cigarettes she had lied to Fluttershy about quitting over two months ago. Sticking one cancer stick into her mouth, she swiftly lit it, took a puff, and exhaled into the cooling redness all around.
"... ... ..." She blinked lethargically at the door, her cheeks ever-so-slightly flushed. "...yeah, guess that'll do it."
Flash gulped. His crotch still throbbed, and his wet mouth still whimpered. He knew better than to mewl, but he did so anyway. "Uhm—"
"Can't be late," she muttered between drags, pacing back and forth across the room as she gathered a blouse, a pair of jeans, and newly-shined boots. Flash remembered spending an hour making them spotless the day before. Sunset didn't. "If I don't show up on time, I'll never hear the end of it from the rest of the Rainbooms." She puffed a particularly heavy vapor into the ceiling vent, lingering in place like the hot goddess she was. "And you know what an annoying little bitch Rainbow can be."
"... ... ..." Flash wiped at her slick juices, still warm against his cheeks. "It... it has occurred to me." He squeezed his thighs together, experiencing a new wave of trembles. "I... uhm..."
She looked over. "What?" It came out like a dry fetus. She looked at his crotch, then rolled her eyes. "Pffft. Fine." With suddenly dainty moves, she girl-stepped out of those black boishorts and tossed them over so that they landed expertly across his face. "There. Have at it, ya sniveling little tissue stain."
He shuddered. As if blessed with ambrosia, he peeled the wet underwear off his awestruck face and gaped at it in wonderment.
"Just promise me you'll throw it in the wash when you're done," Sunset grumbled, hopping into a new set of underwear and then into her outfit. After magically juggling the cancer stick through all of this, she ultimately grinded the ashen thing into a coaster atop the vanity and flung her makeup kit into her purse. "Gotta powder up on the way there. Next time I'll let you do my face—provided you aren't a little bitch about it as usual." She opened the door to leave, but paused halfway through. "Oh..." A turgid finger pointed his way. "...and you'd better text me a photo of the mess you make. I need something to make the girls laugh in exchange for being late to dinner." She tossed her hair like a comet and was gone. "Don't pretend you don't like it, pussy."
Thud!
Flash Sentry was alone in the changing room. With her underwear.
It wasn't long until he was making the best of it—stacking up a hill of couch pillows and humping them while pressing the moist black-lace panties to his face. He had a cell phone propped up alongside her vanity, recording the whole thing. That way—she would know his tears were real, along with his smile... assuming she would care.
"Thank you, Sunny..." He whimpered, hoping and dreaming that someday she might. "Th-hank y-y-you..." His eyes rolled back as he came, clamping his teeth delicately over the lace waistband for the five measly seconds that it took. And after he was long done staining the couch, he took a photo of himself cuddling the panties, immersing himself with her scent, and sighing with unearthly contentment as he experienced the closest thing he could get to being inside her.