The invitation had seemed strange, even as you first removed it from your mailbox.

                    You’d been distracted at the time, waving a half-aware goodbye to the mare leaving your house. You’d been paying more attention to the way her tail flicked back and forth as she blew a kiss in your direction before departing, so it took a moment to fully understand the words on the printed card that had been delivered that morning. It was an invitation to a contest. To be a judge, more specifically. Your eyes traced the embossed printing, and did a double take.

                    Ponyville’s Premier Posterior Proving Competition.

                    That was something.

                    The details seem unreal, but you manage to show up on the day of the event anyway. The location is a secluded clearing of grass just outside Ponyville proper. All the while there, you’d been wondering if the whole thing was a hoax, but the elaborate makeshift ‘arena’ complete with wooden fencing, along with stands for onlookers was enough to convince you. You weren’t expecting much of a turn out in terms of audience… though, really, you were still wrestling with the idea of the contest itself. As you near the circular pen hesitantly, a familiar pink faced beams at you several feet away, a hoof waving to beckon you over.

                    Due to your imminent qualifications… the invitation had begun.

                    Well, in so much as anyone could be qualified for such a thing, you suppose it might be true. As if reminding yourself, you tilt your head to look back at the cutie mark emblazoned on your flank. A very to the point piece of imagery: a circle with a pointed arrow emerging from the corner. Exactly what it said on the box, so to speak.

                    Still, you don’t think you happen to be a pony of any exception – just one the ladies of Ponyville enjoyed the company of. Well, enjoy the company of very much. In some very explicit ways. Ahem.

                    Still… the card had said you were selected to be one of the judges. Did that mean-               

                    “Hey, you made it!” Pinkie Pie screams, hollering from the middle of the arena’s back end, next to a black covered booth set up just a ways away from the stands. Several ponies are milling about the wooden steps, talking amongst each other or looking over the setup of the contest site. Contest. The word keeps sticking in your head. It doesn’t seem real. But, there’s Pinkie, standing underneath a banner with “PPPPC” emblazoned in bright gold letters.

                    You shake your head and make your way over to the bouncing pink filly with haphazard hair and bright eyes.

                    “We’re really sorry about the short notice… the whole thing kind of just came together super fast, we didn’t really have a lot of time to prepare. We’re really glad you showed up though – wouldn’t have been much of a contest without the right judge!” Pinkie Pie winks at you, prompting a very subtle blush across your cheeks.

                    “Well, thanks, I think. Is this really… I mean, what exactly is this contest going to entail? And how am I going to… judge it, per say?”

                    Pinkie laughs, a cheerful giggle ending in a snort. As her laugh trails of, she hops over the booth and wraps a foreleg around your neck like an old buddy explaining the score at a sports bar.

                    “Let me fill you in on the details… though, there’s not a ton to say about it! The quick version is, we’ve got two ponies who think they’ve got a one up on each other, and we need you to help decide the winner!”

                    O-kay. That didn’t really clear anything up at all.

                    “Right. And that being in relation to…”

                    “Just what it says in the name, duh!”

                    “Ponyville’s Premier Posterior-“

                    “That means butt!”

                    “Er. Right.” You roll your eyes to the side. Pinkie is a darling, but she can be a little dull sometimes. “What I mean to say is, how exactly is it I’m meant to judge this kind of competition? Is it just going to be, like, the Miss Equestria contest, only with a particular focus on… certain features?”

                    “No no no! It’s not about the presentation, silly, it’s about how you use it! Or rather, how our two contestants do.” Pinkie giggles again, and you take advantage of the momentary distraction to slide away from her grasp. She collects herself after a moment, and stares at you, seemingly dumbfounded you haven’t fully keyed in to the situation yet. “You do understand why we picked you to be a judge, right? There wasn’t anypony else who’d be suited for the job. Well… right. Not anypony, anyway,” Pinkie says distractedly. What did she mean by that, exactly?

                   There were certain…. talents you happen to posses. Maybe ‘talents’ wasn’t the right word. Proclivities. Inclinations. Habits. The short version being that you’re very, very familiar with most of the females ponies in town. To a very rich extent, you might say. That doesn’t mean you see yourself as any kind of an ‘expert’… something just seems to click with the mares you ran into. Or the ones that run into you. Or run towards you from miles out of town, after they hear stories.

                    There isn’t any trick to it, or a gift, per say. You just… know what the mares like. And you like giving them what they like, almost as much as they enjoy taking it. So… maybe there’s some sense to picking you as a judge. Experience. Caliber of proficiency. Though, given your ‘experience’ with some of the ladies in town, you wonder if there’s a way to ensure impartiality. What Pinkie was suggesting was a little outside the normal realm of comfort for most girls in town – but there had been many firsts after spending an hour together, or several days. Only rarely at your suggestion. It had always been like a prize, or an extra treat, the proverbial (or literal) cherry on top of a delicious desert. And now they were asking you to spend your afternoon judging a… competition?

                    Maybe the whole thing was too hard to believe, because no part of you was fully accepting of the existence of an Equestrian heaven. You bite down on your lower lip, hard to test a nagging suspicion. The jolt of pain alleviates your worry.

                    The invitation had said something about another judge though?

                    Hm. You haven’t even asked about the contestants yet.

                    Pinkie wraps her foreleg around your body again as your thoughts wander, and you flash back to reality with her sparkling eyes staring right at you. You hunch back a little in a futile attempt to pry yourself from her overenthusiastic grasp.

                    “Sooooooo, are you ready for me to go over the rules?”

                    “Er, I think so. Pinkie, if you don’t mind, before you start explaining, I was just wondering who-“

                    “So basically it’s going to go like this,” Pinkie interjects, dragging you forward to the center of the small circle surrounded by low wooden fence. “You and the other judge will sit here – we’ve set up a nice seating arrangement for the contestants to work with. The competition starts, both ponies get warmed up, and then the event begins! Everything is up to them, and it goes until the finale. Then, you’ll both announce your votes, and that’ll decide the winner!”

                    Even from Pinkie’s jumbled explanation you can spot an immediate flaw.

                    “Pinkie… if there are only the two judges, what will we do if we can’t agree on a winner?”

                    “Easy, silly! Then we have a tie-breaker round – sudden death, winner take all!”

                    Sudden death. Your mind jumps to a view of a recent encounter, a lovely mare bent over in front of you moaning into a pillow.

                    Well, that didn’t sound so bad, really.

                    “So when are we starting?” you ask, sounding a little more eager than intended. Pinkie doesn’t bat an eyelash, and squeezes you tight against her body as she checks her watch, lifting you off the ground in the process.

                    “Well, both contestants are already here, so we’re just waiting on our other judge-“

                    “Hello, Pinkie. I apologize for my lateness. There was something I needed to take care of before arriving. I do hope I haven’t delayed the contest?”

                    The voice from behind you sounds vaguely foreign. His words are articulated with a particular care, as though he’s forming them through an unfamiliar but very well educated thought process. The accent makes you think of the far east, sand dunes and jungles. Pinkie beams as she hears the stranger speak, and lets you go from her sideways hug, sending you tumbling to the ground as your legs suddenly realize the reality of gravity released from Pinkie’s uplifting grip.

                    “You made it, yay! Now we can get started!”

                    You turn your head as you stand up and see Pinkie hugging the other ‘judge’ with perhaps even a little more excitement than she gave to you. A zebra.

                    Well, she did say she couldn’t think of ‘anypony else’ as qualified.

                    The zebra lowers his gaze to you as you pick yourself up off the ground, and he smiles cordially while extending a hoof, both to help you up, as well as to serve as an introductory hoofshake. You take it gracefully, and give a polite bob of your foreleg against his by way of a hello.

                   “A pleasure to meet you. I take it from a previous explanation of Pinkie’s that you must be my co-judge?” Co-judge. Well, you thought they’d asked you first. Either way.

                    “Yes, that would be me, though I’m not really sure what I’m going to be judging, or why I was picked in the first place.” You brush a hoof against your side to shake off the small bit of dirt you collected on your fall into the grass. The zebra smiles at you. His hair is cut in some kind of mohawk approximation, and he’s wearing a large golden necklace or crest across his chest.

                    “Did Pinkie not fill you in on the details?” he asks. His voice is unsettlingly calm. Not that it has any need to be shaky or upset – it just seems… odd. Too composed. Too cool.

                    “She did, sort of, but Pinkie can be hard to follow at the best of times.”

                    “Ah, of course, I completely understand,” the zebra says. Why did you want to add ‘condescendingly’ to that mental approximation? “Well, I would be more than happy to give a full break down of the contest proceedings if you would like,” he says. In the background by the booth next to the stands, you can see Pinkie bouncing back and forth between several ponies, no doubt talking to them at inadvisably rapid speeds. You squint your eyes into the sun trying to make out the ponies in question. That one… a patch of spiky blue hair and bright purple shades. A disc jockey from town you’re rather familiar with. And the second one… grey hair, brown coat… the mayor?

                    “Um… that’d be good, I think. If you wouldn’t mind.”

                   “Not at all, it would be my pleasure.” The zebra opens his mouth with a breath to begin his explanation, but pauses, as though remembering something. He laughs lightly, and as the sound hits your ears you feel torn between punching him and rubbing his tail.

                    Where did that come from?

                    “Forgive me, I do not believe I have properly introduced myself.” He extends a hoof again, and gives a small bob of his head as you accept the redundant gesture. “My name is Ice Pack. I’m a working pony from around town.”

                    Ice Pack?

                    “Um. Charmed. My name is Arrow Shaft, and I… suppose I’m about the same. What exactly is it you do around town?”

                    “I… am what you would call a comfort horse. I provide services to mares who request my attention.”

                    Ah.

                    “Well, it seems you and I might have more in common than I first thought.”

                    Ice Pack looks puzzled. “Whatever do you mean?”

                    “Nevermind. You were saying, about the contest?”

                    “Ah! Yes, of course. The proceedings are fairly simple really, though how much effort and thought will go into the judging is entirely separate. You are aware of the basic premise?”

                    “Not really.”

                    “Well, it is very simple.” He doesn’t use contractions, you notice. “Two of Ponyville’s most… posteriorally gifted ponies have come to odds in hearsay over whom is the most… talented. They’ve decided to have a contest, and we’ve been selected as judges.”

                    “Meaning-“

                    “Essentially, the mechanics are fairly straightforward. The two of us will be seated over there-” Ice Pack gestures towards the chairs in the center of the arena. They look like a cross between a cot and a hammock, more elongated than upright, probably meaning you’ll be more ‘lying down’ than ‘seated’. “- and the two girls will do their best to present their talents to the full extent of their abilities. We will both be serviced by each participant, and at the end, an agreement will be made on whichever is the ‘champion’, so to speak.”

                    “When you say ‘serviced’ and ‘talents’, and all those other cover-ups, that’s your way of edging around the term-“

                    “Anal sex.”

                    “Ah.”

                    “Yes, it is rather brash. Not a term to be avoided, necessarily, however. I find that there is a certain charm to it over normal intercourse, when the opportunity arises.”

                    Did he just say that?

                    “Well… I’ve certainly spent my Saturday afternoon in worse ways.”

                    Ice Pack blinks. Joke, that was supposed to be a joke. A second of silence hangs awkwardly in the air, and you breathe a sigh of relief as Pinkie shouts at the two of you from the other end of the circle.

                    “Ah, it appears as though things are ready to begin. Shall we?”

                    You nod, and begin walking behind the zebra in Pinkie’s direction. She spots the two of you as you approach and comes bounding up.

                    “Are we ready to get started, gents?” she asks. Her voice is bubbly with enthusiasm.

                    “Yes, I believe so.”

                    “Sure,” you mumble. What have you gotten yourself into?

                    “Great! Take your positions then, and we’ll start things off!”

                    “Wait, Pinkie-“

                    Before you can ask the question that’s been burning in your mind since the particulars of the contest became apparent, Pinkie dashes off back to her booth, leaving you standing awkwardly with Ice Pack next to the bizarre hammock-like contraptions. For some reason, given their purpose, the act of sitting down feels incredibly bizarre, but you manage to negotiate the position regardless. Lying on your back with your head propped up, you get a good view of the sky overhead, bright blue and clear from even the tiniest patch of clouds. Close by, you can see two tents, likely the waiting rooms for the ‘competitors’. And, nearby in the center of the arena, the Mayor and the blue haired DJ pony are sharing words. The two of them are whispering into each other’s ear, and you can’t manage to make out the movements of their lips to any readable sense. The mayor is holding a microphone between her hooves. You manage to catch a snippet as she hands the microphone off.

                    “-really, I think you’d be better suited for something like this-“

                    The blue haired pony smiles reassuringly, and puts the microphone back into the mayor’s hooves, met with a reluctant sigh. They separate, and the mayor takes a moment to adjust her glasses before raising the microphone. She gives it a hesitant tap with her hoof, and the thud echoes across the small ‘arena’, broadcast on the speakers hanging up from the fence posts. She clears her throat, and speaks with the familiar oratory tone you’re used to hearing from her speeches in town. None of them were ever as interesting as this one is likely to be, however.

                    “Fillies and gentlecolts,” she begins, sounding slightly less composed than usual. “Thank you for attending the first annual…” she pauses for a moment, mouthing the words but with no sound. Eventually the syllables come, sounding incredibly forced. “Ponyville…premier… p… post…” the Mayor is brushing brightly, struggling to say the words on the card in front of her. She looks pleadingly to the off-white pony with the music note cutie mark nearby, who simply tilts her head back in an ‘oh fine’ sort of gesture and reaches forward to take the microphone. The mayor breathes a sigh of relief, and the DJ clears her throat before raising the mic.

                    “Guys and gals, thank you so much for showing up to give our lovely ladies your support in our first PPPPC stand-off!” Her voice is youthful and spunky, with a healthy dose of grit and gravel in her tomboy’s annunciation. You remember her voice sounding particularly good from the blankets near your headboard.

                    The crowd cheers as she speaks. The mayor might have the monopoly on public speaking, but apparently somepony else might be a better choice for events… like this. Like this - when have you ever even heard of an event like this?

                    “I also wanna thank our two wonderful judges for taking time out of their busy schedules…” she pauses, and winks over to you and Ice Pack. The crowd laughs appropriately, and you feel yourself blushing slightly. Exactly how many ponies are here watching anyway? “… to help us with our contest. Let’s give them a quick round of applause as well!” The crowd cheers and stamps their hooves as directed, and you throw a nervous wave in the direction of the stands, which you now see are far busier than when you arrived. Ice Pack does the same, though you notice without the reddening of his cheeks.

                    “So, with that out of the way, let’s get down to the reason you folks all came out today.”

                    Finally.

                    “What we have today is a showdown between two of Ponyville’s most excellent occupants, over a matter of pride, and dignity! A challenge has been issued, and we are here today to witness the settling of this disagreement!” What was her name again? Something you probably should have remembered, you think to yourself as you lock your eyes on the blue-haired pony’s flank as she paces back and forth in front of you.

                    “So, without further ado, let me introduce our two contestants!” Something to do with music…

                    “In the orange corner, we have Ponyville’s hardest working and most dependable pony, no doubt dead set on adding another title to her tower of accomplishments!” The crowd titters with some light laughter, and the DJ smiles at them. Vinyl Scratch, that was it…

                    “Her backside is toned and tanned from working hard to bring Ponyville its regular supply of apples, and she’s set out to prove her hiney is every bit as delicious. Please give a warm welcome to – Applejack!”

                    Wait, you hadn’t even being paying attention. Did she just say-

                    The trademark brown hat and country orange coat emerging from the nearby tent mean you didn’t mishear. Applejack?

                    AJ looks a little embarrassed at the attention, but she raises a foreleg and gives a wave to the crowd, who applaud uproariously, shaking the wooden stands with the force of their hoof stamping. Applejack has a towel around her neck like a boxer, and another pony follows behind her – a huge stallion with a red coat.

                    “And, in the grey corner… one our fantastic town’s most recognizable faces - amongst other things…” Scratch adds as an aside, getting another chorus of laughter. “.. and most delightful citizens. This pegasus has a bodacious bubble booty that won’t quit, and she’s here today to show us that she knows how to use it. Give it up for – Miss Derpy Hooves!”

                    Derpy bobs out of the second tent smiling brightly. She gives an exaggerated wave to the crowd, and the applause that follows is even louder than Applejack’s. She has another pony in her corner as well,  one you recognize. A yellow coat and bright orange mane, with a carrot cutie mark.

                    Applejack is glaring at her competitor, but Derpy seems oblivious, simply bouncing up and down on her feet and waving to the crowd.

                    “Thank you both, ladies. Really, it’s us the fans who are the real winners. I assume you’ve both been briefed on the rules… so do we have any words before we start the show?” Vinyl lowers her shades and grins at the two contestants. Applejack simply continues glowering, but Derpy nods excitedly and gestures for the microphone, which Vinyl hands over.

                    “Applejack,” she begins. The voice is one you instantly recognize. It doesn’t sound… simple isn’t the right word. Just a little… slow. How did a bubbly, cheerful, but all over simple pegasus get herself into a contest like this? “- you know we don’t have to do some silly contest like this.” The crowd boos jokingly, though you notice one or two looks of real disappointment. Applejack rushes forward several feet and grabs Derpy’s hooves, leaning her face towards the mic.

                    “Don’t need a contest but nothin’! You know what you said, and I ain’t happy to let that kinda slander go around without an answer.” The crowd applauds again as Derpy takes the microphone back.

                  “That’s not what I meant, silly! I meant we don’t need a contest, because we both know who’s gonna win anyway.”

                    Applejack looks like she’s about to explode. The crowd is jeering and hollering so loud you wonder if they might collapse the flimsy assembled stand. Applejack grabs the microphone, and you notice Scratch step forward a little between the two, as though keeping them from blows.

                    “We’ll just see how sure of yourself you are when this is over. I ain’t been practicin’ every day for nothin’!”

                    You cough in disbelief, and give a look towards Applejack’s coach. The big red pony looks away, and says nothing. The banter between the two contestants seems to be done, and Scratch grabs the microphone, turning towards the crowd.

                    “I believe we are ready to begin then.” Applejack nods grimly while Derpy gives a distracted bob of her head. “Well then ladies… take your positions.”

                    Applejack stands in front of your seat, while Derpy takes her place in front of Ice Pack. You give the zebra a sideways look, but his face doesn’t give away any sort of preference.

                    Applejack… you’ve never really gotten a look at her before. She’s never paid you a visit, in any case. Now, you feel a little disappointed in the fact. Her body looks… magnificent. Just like you heard Scratch say, tanned and toned in all the right ways. Her legs look muscular and firm, and even though she’s standing a good half foot away from you, you can still make out the shape of her backside from her front profile. It looks firm, almost intimidating.

                    You give a look in Derpy’s direction as well, and feel yourself almost do a cartoon double take as your jaw drops open slightly.

                    Her ass is huge. You’d never noticed it before either, not taking much care to pay attention to the absent-minded town klutz. You almost feel like kicking yourself now. How many amazing views did you miss? You can make out her bubble cutie mark bouncing as she bobs up and down, waiting for the event to start. The rest of her looks nice enough. Soft wings, and her face is sort of cute, though you keep wanting to follow her other eye. But her ass… damn. It’s like a set of bouncy pillows attached at the flank. You can just picture yourself burying your face into them like a set of sexy, poundable bedding, or bending her over your side table and rubbing yourself between them-

                    You hear a cough from the end of your chair, and turn your head back to find Applejack staring at you disapprovingly. You blush, feeling a little guilty. She did pick you to start after all.

                    “Don’t cast your vote just yet, sugarcube. It ain’t all about what the package looks like… it’s how you use it.”

                    A bead of sweat drips across your forehead in the hot sun shining from above.

                    “On your marks,” begins Vinyl’s voice, echoing through the small stadium. You see Applejack grit her teeth, tensing herself noticeably.

                    “-get set,”

                    Derpy is bobbing her head left to right, staring at nothing in particular.

                    “-go!”

                    Applejack is on you in a flash. She doesn’t even pause on the way, simply doing a sort of jump and turning herself in mid air. It isn’t her whole body that lands on top of you, but just her crotch on yours. Immediately, you feel yourself growing to very insistent attention. Applejack slides her body back and forth, rubbing herself back and forth on top of your rapidly growing member. You can feel the heat and wetness between her legs slickening the length of your shaft, and it’s only a second before you’re at full hardness. You can feel your tip pressing against the entrance to her marehood, which she bobs up and down a couple times. She pauses for a moment, as though steeling herself, and then draws back for one conclusive hip movement-

                    The sound of a shrill whistle in your ears makes your eyes flash open, and you throw your hooves to your ears in a futile attempt to block out the horrible sound.

                    “Violation!” a familiar voice shouts from not so far away.

                    “Huh?” Applejack asks, her hot wet entrance still poised at the head of your engorged cock. The Mayor is glaring at her, a whistle tangling from a lanyard around her neck.

                    “No vaginal intercourse is permitted!” she yells. What?

                    “I was jus’ gettin’ him ready…”

                    “Then use the provided lubricant. Applejack, you were briefed on the rules before the contest began.”

                    “Aw, shucks…” Applejack glowers, but raises her pussy off your body much to your dismay. She leans down beside your ‘chair’ and picks a small uncorked bottle of clear liquid, on a table you hadn’t noticed before.

                    “That goes you for you as well, Miss Hooves.”

                    “Hrm?”

                    You look to the side, and notice Derpy on her knees in front of Ice Pack. She’s holding his cock in her mouth quite literally, the shaft between her lips like a treat from the bakery. Ice Pack gives you a look that says more than any amount of words could ever hope to, maybe something akin to “What have we gotten ourselves into?”

                    “You heard me. Provided lubricant only! Let’s not end this contest due to mutual disqualification before it even begins.”

                    “Yes, Mayor,” Derpy says. Her voice is almost childlike in a way. She mimics Applejack’s motion and grabs the bottle of clear lube in her mouth.

                    No matter what her voice sounds like, you can’t help but check out her ass again while you have an excuse to look over.

                    The sensation of cold liquid on your crotch draws your attention back. You gasp loudly as you look down to find Applejack lathering your cock with a copious helping of lube, pouring what looks to be almost the entire bottle onto your engorged head and shaft. Once the contents are emptied, and Applejack is apparently content that you’re sufficiently prepared, she turns around again, hovering her hindquarters just over your body. You can feel the heat emanating from between her legs, but she moves her body further forward still. You get your first proper look at her ass, and it occurs to you that you may have been a tad too fast to judge.

                    What Applejack’s butt lacks in size, it more than makes up for in shape. Her cheeks are taut and toned from all her farm work, but still manage to be big enough to eclipse the rest of her body when looking from behind. Despite that firmness, they still look… soft. Where Derpy’s butt made you think of a mound of sexy marshmallows, Applejack’s ass is more commanding. Suggestive. You might like to bury your face in Derpy’s cheeks like a giddy colt, but Applejack’s make you want to stand up straight and say ‘Yes, m’am.’ At least one part of you is standing up now, anyway.

                    You let out a long breath as Applejack rubs her ass on your shaft. The lube makes your cock feel like it’s sliding in between a pair of heavenly bodies, slick and supple and groan-inducingly taut. Just the sight of Applejack’s ass grinding up your dick makes you twitch a little bit. If she wanted to, Applejack could probably bring you to a finish without penetration even entering into the picture. “Ungh” is the only word that comes to mind from the sight of her perfect orange behind pressed against your erection.

                    But, Applejack isn’t content to perform solely on the merits of her preparation. You grit your teeth as she maneuvers her backside and presses the tip of your cock against an entrance much more scandalous than the warm lips you felt earlier.  She rocks her hips back and forth a bit, pressing just the head against her hole, and then drawing away again, making you groan every time you feel her skin against yours. You weren’t sure what to expect when you showed up, but right now there’s nothing you want more than Applejack to press back just a little more…

                    You groan audibly as your wish comes true. Your head slides inside AJ’s ass without struggle due to the large amount of lube making your entire length slick. But, once the head is in, AJ presses herself back just a little bit, sliding the first inch of your cock inside before returning to her rocking motion, drawing you in ever so slightly before pulling back. Even with the lube, she feels tight. So tight. Your hips start to move of their own accord, but Applejack compensates for your enthusiasm as she pulls herself further back, never letting more than the first inch and a half of your sizable cock inside. The combination of slick tightness and warmth makes your head reel, and you shut your eyes for a moment before forcing them back open. No part of you wants to stop watching that orange ass bobbing up and down.

                    Applejack continues her teasing for another minute before pulling her ass off almost completely, leaving just the very tip of your cock inside. You groan imploringly, thrusting yourself off the chair in a struggle to plunge back inside, but Applejack wiggles her butt at you while keeping it out of reach. Just the tip, it’s driving you crazy. You look up at her, hoping your wide puppy-dog eyes might beg her enough to convince her to move back just a bit more. She’s staring at you over her shoulder, green eyes bright,  grinning at you.

                    “Ready to give your vote up in just a couple seconds?” she asks. Before you can respond, she slams her hips down and buries your cock inside her ass.

                    The crowd of ponies watching does nothing to shame you into muffling the groan that escapes your mouth as you feel AJ’s tightness enveloping your shaft. You feel her backside grinding into your body as she works her muscles, clenching tightly and pressing her muscular skin against your fur.  Your cock feels like it’s going to burst into flame from the combination of heat and tightness, and you press one of your hooves to your face, overcome with pleasure and not knowing quite how to respond. Against all logic, you manage to open your eyes through the haze of ecstasy, and find Applejack smiling back at you still, grinding herself from side to side against the base of your shaft. Her ass pressed against your body is mesmerizing as it moves.

                    “And you ain’t seen nothin’ yet, sugarcube.”

                    She pulls up, and you grab a mouthful of air.

                    The slam downward drags it from you, and you groan again, loudly.

                    There’s no word to describe it. ‘Tight’ is insufficient. With each movement of Applejack’s hips, you look down to see your well-lubed cock sliding out of her hole before she lowers herself back down, taking the entire length without batting an eyelash – which is an accomplishment for most ponies in their other hole. And Applejack feels better than any pussy you remember. Her ass is tighter, so much tighter, and the sight of her perfectly toned country backside bouncing on top of your cock makes your eyes threaten to roll back in your head.

                    Applejack’s motions are firm, but concentrated, as though she’s working herself through a very well rehearsed routine, or maybe just a conscious decision to move slowly. Even though you can picture yourself bending her over and slamming into her luscious behind, the way she moves so carefully and insistently is almost certainly better. You can feel her muscles working your shaft every time she buries your cock with a thrust downward, and each time you bottom out you can’t imagine feeling more surrounded by hot, tight, sticky pleasure.

                    Why had you been ogling Derpy, again?

                    The thought ambles in from the haze of Applejack’s rear grinding on your dick, and you cast a glance sideways, remembering blurrily that there’s somepony here besides the country vixen squeezing you to euphoria with her ass.

                    Ice Pack looks to be in a similar, though at the same time entirely different situation. He’s blushing profusely, and just from the look on his face you can tell the embarrassment is uncharacteristic. He’s muttering himself, and you can just make out the words, something like “…cannot believe…” and “…very, very good…”

                    Derpy’s style is different. Instead of Applejack’s concentrated and controlled movements and muscle action, Derpy is riding Ice Pack with complete abandon. She’s using her wings to propel her body, and is sitting almost upright, though still facing away. Every time her wings push her back down, her butt slams against Ice Pack’s body with a smack, making her sizable booty bounce with the force of the impact. Ice Pack seems similarly engaged with the view, though you notice he’s running a hoof across his eyes idly, as though the sight is too much to take in. You look back down to your own partner, and feel inclined to sympathize. Applejack’s ass is almost too painfully sexy to stare at for a prolonged period of time, especially the way she slowly raises her hips up, letting your cock slide out ever so carefully, leaving just the head buried before she lowers herself all the way down to the base. You groan to yourself again.

                    “Pardon me… ladies… but I feel I must suggest a switch… before the event is over…” Ice Pack’s voice rises through the sound of bouncing and your own muffled groans. From his tone, it sounds like his suggestion is largely because he can feel the end approaching sooner than expected. You feel in complete agreement.

                    Applejack looks put out, but she nods, and reluctantly slides her ass up, letting your cock spring free with a pop. You’ve never felt so hard in your life, and your member stands at perfect attention, still slick and shiny in the afternoon sun from the large helping of lube. Derpy’s expression gives away no hint of any frustration. She simply gives an extra hard push with her wings and lifts up into the air before landing in front of Ice Pack’s seat. You can’t help but notice his body’s reaction is similar to yours… and, to your dismay, that he might just have an inch on you. Maybe half an inch, at most. Practically the same size. Why are you even thinking about that?

                    The feeling of the air on your aching cock is a sad departure from Applejack’s amazing tightness, but you don’t feel too upset. As Applejack makes her way over to the zebra next to you, Derpy flutters over and lands facing towards you, grinning cheerfully. She doesn’t waste any time, and before you can react, she’s already hovering above you. You can feel her butt pressed against your shaft, and the sensation of your rod pressed between her two sizable cheeks makes you want to consider an early winner.

                    “Hi!” she says. This doesn’t strike you as the time for conversation, but you do your best to return the greeting, while grinding your hips up and down subconsciously, sliding your length along the crack of her ass.

                    “…hello,” you manage, gritting your teeth as you try to speak through the sensation. A moment of silence passes, and you begin to wonder if you should just grab her and force things into business.

                    “Do you want me looking this way, or turned around?”

                    Had she asked Ice Pack the same question? You were a little distracted at the time. You consider the logistics for a moment. The image of Derpy’s bubble-butt bouncing in plain sight makes the answer easy.

                    “Other way, please,” you manage to grunt, still rocking yourself up every few seconds. Derpy grins and bobs her head.

                    “Okey doke!” She flaps her wings and lifts off again, spinning a hundred and eighty degrees before touching down. Her cheeks press into your shaft again, and the sight from this angle makes you draw a deep breath. You find yourself thinking in the back of your mind about math problems and Equestrian history.

                    “Gee, you’re really excited, huh? Don’t cum too quick, okay? You should let both of us give it our best shot!” Her voice is so damn cute – somehow it makes your cock twitch even more when you hear her say something like that.

                    Without warning, Derpy repositions herself, floating off your body just a little bit before lowering back down, aligning your head with her hole. Before giving you time to prepare, her wings flap downward, and you find yourself buried completely in her ass. Her butt presses against your skin, and you have to shut your eyes before the sight of her two big cheeks around your cock makes you ignore her request.

                    “All set?” she asks, her voice still bright and cheerful. Was that a question?

                    “…unh… yes…” you manage to groan out. Content with your response, Derpy begins her routine, bobbing her body up and down without restraint. The feeling of her luscious backside slamming into you makes your head spin, and you have to make a conscious effort to keep your gaze away. Either that or look down and see Derpy’s round, soft butt pressed into your crotch before she bounces up and then back down onto your cock… urgh. Even thinking about it is almost too much. Though, maybe just a peek wouldn’t hurt.

                    You carefully crack one eye open and see exactly the scene you pictured. Derpy is humming to herself as she bounces, flapping her wings up and down to keep her motion consistent. The slapping sound her ass makes as she lands gets you to groan again. There’s no way you’re going to last with that sight in front of you – it’s really just a matter of whether it’s you or Ice Pack who finishes first.

                    Applejack seems aware of the feeling in the air. You look over to see her staring at her judge lasciviously, slowly grinding herself up and down on the zebra’s impressive cock. Applejack’s eyes are half open, sultry, and she licks her lips before opening them to speak.

                    “Y’all doin’ okay back there, sugarcube? My tight lil’ backside ain’t gonna make you cum too fast, is it?”

                    Ice Pack can’t respond with words. Despite his profession, you get the feeling he’s not comfortable with such blunt language – and hearing it from Applejack while she’s grinding her ass on his dick is only likely to provoke a certain type of reaction. You’re not even fucking her, and you can feel your balls tingling. Applejack smiles, content with the response.

                    “It’s fine, hun’, don’t you worry about it. Go ahead and press up. I wanna feel you pound me real hard a’fore you cum, and then you can bury yourself in my butt, all tight, and let out as much o’ your big load as you can handle.”

                    “Oh, goodness…” Ice Pack mutters, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

                   Derpy looks over, her ears pricking up as she notices the attempt to bring the contest to a close on Applejack’s side. You return your attention to her bouncing backside as she looks back at you, grinning, though squinting her eyes a little, obviously struggling in an attempt to come up with similarly filthy dialogue.

                    “Um… yeah, and… don’t you wanna, um, cum lots too? You can shoot your stuff everywhere, and I’ll get all sticky.”

                    What’s she’s saying is barely erotic, and her distracted juvenile sounding voice isn’t helping. You decide to act before she can talk anymore, and reach down to grab a hoof-full of her soft and supple cheeks, pressing them together as she bobs up and down on your cock. Her ass feels like a bouncy water bed, and you knead her cheeks together as she slams her ass down onto you again and again. The sight overtakes her lack of dirty-talk, and you can feel yourself getting close.

                    The sound from the other seat gives you a hint that you’re going to finish second.

                    “Applejack, I am… quite close…” Ice Pack manages to stutter between AJ’s movement. She smiles back at the zebra as she continues to grind herself on his shaft, and bats her eyes seductively.

                    “You cum whenever you’re ready, sug’, just tell me when.”

                    “That was… the announcement…”

                    AJ smirks, and raises her butt one last time before slamming her hips down with all the force her applebucking has made her capable of. The sound of her ass pounding down on Ice Pack’s body makes your own hips twitch, and you can’t help but stare, transfixed, a the zebra groans loudly, his body moving jerkily as he empties his load in to Applejack’s behind. AJ smiles through the duration, grinding herself on the base of Ice Pack’s cock. After several seconds, she lifts herself upward, and you can see a trickle of hot, sticky cum drip down onto Ice Pack’s still noticeably erect member.

                    As you look back to your own contestant, you find yourself quickly following suit. Derpy continues bouncing her ass up and down on your shaft obliviously as you begin to groan. You can feel your balls tighten, and you give her an anxious tap on her back, to which she turns and looks at you inquisitively.

                    “…gonna cum,” you grunt, holding back to the best of your effort.

                    “Oh, super!” she says, and keeps her motion, slamming her big padded butt onto your dick repeatedly. You take that as a sign that you’re okay to finish, and without further warning, you feel your cock twitch before you unleash a thick payload of semen.  The feeling of Derpy’s ass wrapped around your rod was enough to get you close just from one thrust, and the sensation of her soft, supple butt slamming you inside again and again was a fight against the clock.

                    Derpy bounces once or twice on your shaft as it clenches before she gives a hard flap of her wings and lifts off, landing on the ground beside your seat. A jet of cum lands on her backside as she turns, and she plants her face on your legs right below your cock as the next several come, covering her face in sticky white goo. You count four more noticeable spurts before you feel your orgasm subside, tingles of pleasure flowing along your body. Derpy looks up at you smiling, her face covered in what looks like a three pony helping of your jizz. Given the situation, you’re not really surprised at how much you came.

                    You get a moment to rest in the throes of the best orgasm you can remember before the shrill sound of a whistle in your ears breaks the reverie. The Mayor is standing beside you along with Vinyl Scratch and Pinkie Pie. Derpy lifts herself to her feet off the ground beside you, and makes her way to the trio of officiators. Her face is still coated in your cum, and you feel a hint of blush across your cheeks as you realize an entire crowd of people just watched you fuck the two most perfect asses you’ve ever seen, as well as finishing on Derpy’s cheerful face.

                    Applejack seems less composed as she joins the rest of the group, and you notice a visible shake in her step as she walks past your seat. You also can’t help but spot a sticky trail leaking down her backside and onto the ground as she walks. Apparently Ice Pack was no slouch either, given the circumstance. You turn your head towards him, and he responds with an outstretched hoof. You return the gesture, bumping your hoof against his before you both slouch back into your chairs.

                    “Ladies and gentleman, it appears our two judges have been spent – let’s give another big hand for our two lovely contestants!” Vinyl Scratches voice booms across the speakers again, and the crowd hoots and hollers back loudly, stamping their hooves against the stands.

                    That’s right, there was a contest, wasn’t there.

                    “Let’s give the gentleman a minute to collect themselves, and then we’ll announce our winner!”

                    Another chorus of shouts washes over the stadium, and with some difficulty you manage to right yourself to a sort of properly seated position, leaning your hind legs over the edge of your hammock-chair. Ice Pack simply stands up completely, taking several deep breaths before making his way to the side of your seat.

                    “That was quite the competition, was it not?”

                    “…yeah,” you say, still trying to collect your breath.

                    “Shall we have our preliminary discussion in hopes of choosing a winner?” he asks, already back to his irritatingly composed demeanour. You don’t find the tone nearly as bothersome now, you notice. Maybe after going through something like that with another pony – or zebra – there’s only so much you can hold against them.

                    “Well, discussion, sure… but I pretty much already have my answer in mind.”

                    “Let us hope we are not at odds then. May I ask whom has your vote?”

                    You give a sideways glance to the group of ponies behind you, the five of them looking over at you expectantly with wide eyes. Ice Pack nods knowingly, and tilts his head down as you lean over and whisper in his ear. He beams into a smile as you pull your head away.

                    “Very good! I am glad we are able to come to an agreement then. Shall I tell the announcer then, or-“

                    “No, it’s fine, I’ll do it.” You bring yourself to your feet, shaking a little, but manage to regain your proper composure before making your way to the group of ponies, including a brightly smiling Derpy, and an Applejack trying her best not to look too eager. You nod your head to the two contestants, and they both step out of the way, letting you lean towards Vinyl Scratch and whisper the decision to her. She smiles and nods. As you pull your head away, you catch a sniff of her mane, and the scent of water-bottles and sour candy tickles your nose. Maybe you should pay her a visit some time.

                    Vinyl Scratch grabs Pinkie Pie and the Mayor in a huddle, and the three of them conspire for a time, Pinkie yelling loudly but incoherently as the group banters for a moment. After sufficient discussion (though, you being the judge meaning the result is already decided), the three ponies break, and Vinyl takes the microphone between her hooves. She gives you a knowing look before clearing her throat, and raising the mic to her mouth.

                    “Fillies and gentlecolts! Our two judges have discussed the performance of our contestants, and I am pleased to announce they have come to a unanimous conclusion!” Vinyl pauses, and then smiles at the crowd slyly. “Well… not too pleased.”

                    After the chuckles settle, Vinyl raises the microphone again.

                    “Without further hesitation… I am proud to declare the winner of our first Ponyville Premier Posterior Proving Competition is none other than…”

                    The crowd leans forward, collectively taking in a deep breath as Scratch lingers on the final words.

                    “… Applejack!”

                    The burst of applauses is practically deafening. You can’t help but look in Applejack’s direction, only to find her blushing and rubbing one of her forelegs on the other, looking not unlike a young filly being complimented for a good grade on their report card.

                    No report card you were familiar with, in this case.

                    “And of course, a very gracious thanks to Miss Derpy Hooves, who we proudly award the title of runner up.”

                    Derpy looks unperturbed by the results. She scrunches her mouth into a bizarre expression, but quickly returns to normal, smiling brightly at her orange-haired coach as she approaches from behind the group. Applejack is still blushing profusely as the red stallion who emerged from her tent previously gives her a nudge in the side, smiling.

                   “Thank you again for your attendance folks! Let’s have one more round of applause for our contestants, the judges, and our lovely organizers who helped put this whole thing together!”

                    You take your chance in the haze of clapping to make your way to the side of the stadium, slipping away from the crowd. As much fun as this whole thing was, you can see yourself getting into further outlandish situations sticking around after the fact. Right now, all you want is to curl up at home with a good book, and recollect your wits from the aftermath of what just happened. Though, a thought does stick in your mind as you make your way home.

                    Applejack… she’d never given you a visit before. You make a mental note to stop by Sweet Apple Acres some time soon.

                    After all… maybe she’d need a little extra help training for next time.