There was this young filly named Dashie,
Whose composure was often bold and flashy,
Speaking of which,
She had quite the itch,
To see her idols live and in color.

The desired day came,
And with all their glory and fame,
The Wonderbolts came to her strutting.

It was such a bliss,
When first with a kiss,
They then started the rutting.

Dashie screamed in delight,
As Spits squeezed her ass tight,
And Soarin' gave her a neat nutting.

So deep his shaft went,
When over the bench she was bent,
It almost felt like a gutting.

The very morning after,
One could hear triumphant laughter,
Because of the letter she got,
Dashie now was a hot-shot.

So now when they reach the end of the show,
When all the spotlights lose their glow,
The after-show-party begins.

By: Kinetic Heat