Chapter Twenty Six

Setting Sail

It was late in the morning that Spike and his wives awoke from their deep sleep. Late being a relative term: they rose shortly after the sun had, and already the village was abuzz with movement. Such ponies were not the kind to sleep in, especially when the majority had to either gather food, supplies, or tend to the small farms along the rivers.

Asalah was the first to rise, her head feeling fuzzier than normal. Truth be told, she had been feeling rather odd for the past few days. It as if she had drank a strong potion and was experiencing the oh-so-infamous “side effects” that so many doctors talked about. She hadn’t been in heat since before Spike married her, and therefor she knew she wasn’t pregnant. She just felt odd, and hungry at times that seemed very odd to her.

She looked across her husband’s chest towards the door, but her eyes were immediately obscured by shadows flickering across the hut’s entrance. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the sudden change in brightness, to see several zebra foals looking at her and the others, who were also rubbing their eyes. They were all staring at the ponies and dragon as if they had never seen them before.

Which, in all likelihood, they never had: except for herself, that is. Other than that, and aside from the fact the village knew about an earth pony like Wells, three unicorns and a dragon were likely a very rare sight to come by in these parts.

“Can we help you?” Asalah asked as the others looked at the zebra colts and fillies. In response to her question, the little zebras merely giggled and ran off, only to have their entrance blocked by a familiar face.

“Come now, time is of the essence,” Kalahari said, beckoning them forward. “The elephants will not want to travel by the moon’s luminescence.”

“This is where we must part, my friends,” Wells said, shaking their hands in fond farewell. “I will rest here for a week or two before heading back home. Perhaps it was time I put down some roots back in Equineland.”

“It was a pleasure travelling with you, Mr. Wells,” Maria said. “I speak for all of us when we say thank you again for saving us from that sandstorm.”

“It was debt that was soon repaid, my dear,” Wells said with a smile. “If not for your dragon Spike and all of your magic and help, I surely would have died up there in my dirigible before arriving in the Marsabit village.”

As soon as they exited the hut after Kalahari, Wells turned and went off towards the same hut that he had gone in the night before: that of the shaman. Spike and his wives grabbed their supplies and followed Kalahari, who was soon escorted by several... giraffes?

“An honor to make your acquaintance, the one called Spike,” one of the giraffes said, bowing down and looking Trixie in the face.

“Oh, uh, I’m not Spike,” Trixie said, a slight blush forming on her face.

“You are not?” the giraffe said in surprise. “But you have a spike on your forehead. Or is this one Spike?” the giraffe asked, swinging his head to the side enough to look at Meia.

“No, that’s Meia,” Trixie said. “I am Trixie, this one is named Maria, and this zebra is Asalah. That is Spike,” she said, pointing over at the real Spike.

“My apologies,” one of the other giraffes said, swinging her head down next to the other’s. “Hodari here has excellent eyesight, but is a tad slow.” She leaned in a bit closer and whispered. “Hit his head a few too many times when necking, you see.”

“I can run plenty fast, Zuri,” Hodari responded. “So, Spike,” he continued, looking over at the real, draconic Spike. “I bet you’re wondering why we’re here, right?”

“Well, yes,” Spike said, rubbing the back of his neck again. He couldn’t help it: some of his scales were shedding. It was almost random, like whenever some pony had a bit of their mane fall out.

“Giraffes have some of the best eyesight of all the hooved creatures in Africa, Spike,” Zuri said, looking over at Spike as well. “Our height means we can spot any dangers farther off than most creatures, and our eyesight is not based as much on color, but more on texture.”

“How would that help?” Maria asked. "I mean, I'm not totally knowledgeable about African mammals, but that seems a rather odd adaptation."

“Our eyes can tell the difference between a field of grass and the lion hiding in it,” Zuri said. “Since they are roughly the same color and harder to tell apart when the grass blows in the wind, we hire ourselves out travelers who must cross large stretches of such land to reach a destination.”

“Will you be travelling with us and the elephants?” Spike asked. It would always be good to have extra eyes on a journey.

“Of course: we work as a team, us giraffes and elephants,” Hodari said. “We serve as moving lookouts, and they in turn are protection against any nearby predators.”

“Protection how?” Meia asked, knowing full well their magic could deal with a few stray lions.

“Have you seen an elephant up close, unicorn?” Zuri said with a gentle tone of cautioning fascination. “They are among the largest creatures on the planet, next to a hydra, large manticore or an old dragon, of course,” she added. “That, and their tusks and brute strength are usually enough to ward off any predators during most times of the year. Be thankful it isn’t the dry season, or else we’d really have to be on the lookout.”

Before Trixie could ask what this “dry season” entailed, Kalahari stepped forward. “We must go now, as there is no time to lose.” He looked over at Spike. “We must get to the elephants; I hear they have news.”

“What news?” Spike asked, only for Kalahari to walk away and lead them off. Shrugging, and thinking to ask the zebra later, Spike walked off, his wives following close behind.

So they walked, over hills and under the limbs of trees, where the giraffes would stop for a bite to eat every now and then. Here and there tall patches and fields of grass could be seen, but they steered clear of these. No lions or hyenas jumped out at them, though a leopard did snarl at Hodari when he awoke him from his tree-based nap.

“Um, Zuri,” Trixie called up as they walked on, the dry heat refreshing when compared to what they had endured in the Samarea Desert. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly,” the giraffe said, swinging her head down a bit lower so she wouldn’t have to shout. “Go right ahead.”

“Just how much do you eat? I couldn’t help but notice how you thoroughly stripped all those leaves off those tree branches,” the unicorn asked, her steady hoofsteps easily keeping up with the long, slow strides of the giraffes.

“Oh, around 140 pounds of food every day, though a day for a giraffe is very different than a day for ponies,” the giraffe replied with a smile.

“How so?” Asalah asked, listening in on the conversation. How could a day for a pony be different than that of a giraffe?

“Well Asalah, we giraffes only need around 20 minutes of sleep per day, so we can spend the rest of it eating and doing other things,” Zuri said, her long tongue licking her lower lip.

“Only 20 minutes?” Trixie asked in disbelief. “How do you do it?”

“No idea, though it may be our extra-large hearts,” the giraffe said, swinging her head up to swipe some leaves from a tree. “A lot of blood being pumped up there and all that: more oxygen to our brain.”

“How do you know so much about physiology and biology?” Maria asked, surprised a race of intelligent but hand-less hooved mammals knew so much.

“We spend time in the arts and the sciences, though occasionally we dabble in potions,” Zuri replied. “With our long necks, we can reach certain ingredients in places most ponies couldn’t, even if they tried.”

“We are here, my friends,” Kalahari said, bringing the group to a stop. “I am afraid this is where my journey with you ends.”

Spike and his wives thanked the zebra, who said he was fine walking back to his village all by himself. Two giraffes already at the meeting place insisted they go back with him, a request he begrudgingly accepted. He seemed more embarrassed than mad or anything: he wasn’t that old.

Spike and the others talked with the elephants after Kalahari left. It seemed a bout of good fortune had stricken them: the weather appeared clear, and as the rivers were not flooding, they would arrive in two days’ time at their destination along the coast.

The ride, in and of itself, was rather enjoyable. For one of the few times along the entire journey, Spike actually felt like a prince. Riding with his wives on a herd of large animals, with several others keeping lookout: a shady tent on each elephant’s back, small enough to be lightweight but large enough to shelter each of them from the sun. All that was missing now was golden streets, fanfare and peacocks.

Spike didn’t want all that extra stuff, as that was for the bit more extravagant royalty. He was fine with roughing in on foot or by plain enchanted cart.

So it was that the first day came and went with no trouble whatsoever. The riding was smooth, the elephants were polite, and everypony of Spike’s entourage got along just fine. Well, except for one pony in particular...

“Gah, why do I feel this way?” Asalah asked, her voice a loud whisper to the other mares as they gathered around one of the fire.

“What way, Asalah?” Maria asked as she helped herself to some of their provisions, passing them around for the others as well. Hodari, Zuri and the other giraffes were off eating some leaves from some nearby acacia trees, and Spike was off talking to the lead elephant, an elderly matriarch by the name of Margaret.

“My vision goes so blurry I can’t see straight, my body feels odd, I have a headache, I sweat uncontrollably sometimes, my lower back gets very itchy, and these symptoms only occur around the same thing every time I see it!” The zebra sounded frustrated beyond compare, as if her own body was trying to tell her something.

“What would that be?” Trixie asked. “It sounds rather serious.”

“Spike!” Asalah whispered, furtively looking around to make sure none of the others were listening in on the conversation.

“Spike?” Maria asked. “Tell me, Asalah, when was the last time you’ve been in heat? This simply sounds like the need to breed, ponysonally.”

“A week before Spike arrived in Agrabah, to be precise,” the zebra said. “It’s not my heat: it can’t be. I’m not showing any of the other symptoms and I don’t feel the slight pain that comes with it. Or at least, the same kind of pain: this all feels so different.”

“You’re not in heat?” Meia asked in surprise, softly rubbing her stomach: she was not yet showing, and Maria still had the same taut stomach she did from when Spike first met her. “Then what could it be?”

“I don’t know!” Asalah said, looking around again. “I was hoping you could tell me: I feel these odd urges, this odd set of aches and pains, and above all that, I want to jump him more than normal. Why is that?”

The three unicorns were silent as they pondered this set of information. There wasn’t any pony-born or any other animal-born disease that had these symptoms and caused this, love spells didn’t leave behind such physical evidence, and-

“Magic,” Trixie said suddenly, causing the other three to look at her. “It’s magic.”

“Magic?” Maria asked, glancing up at her horn. “How is it magic? We’ve never cast a spell on Asalah, and I can’t think of any unicorns who could have.”

“That’s just the thing: we’re not casting spells,” Trixie said. She looked over at Meia, who’s eyes carried in their depths a confused look. “Tell me, Meia: what do you know of your own biology?”

“Unicorn biology? It’s been a while since I studied...” Meia muttered, trying to think back on some her studies as a little changeling filly. “Our magic isn’t always cast, right?”

“Exactly,” Trixie said. “We’re responsible for you condition, Asalah,” she added, looking over at the zebra.

“What? How?” the mare asked, her black and white pelt looking beautiful in the light of the small fire.

“It’s our magic, my dear,” Meia said. She looked over at Maria, whose look of comprehension was spreading across her face. “I think Maria knows what we’re talking about.”

“Indeed I do,” she said, turning to look at the zebra mare. “Asalah, you know about hormones and similar biological influences, right?”

“Yes, of course: my tutors taught me all our people know,” Asalah said.

“Well, for unicorns, it is a bit different,” Maria said. “Our magic, as is the magic in all species, is tied to the well-being of our bodies. A unicorn’s magic is also intricately tied to not only their mood, but to their blood, through which all important things flow. Our blood, as in Meia’s, Trixie’s and my own, are now filled with the hormones associated with reproduction and foal development. Our pregnancies are causing change within us, including the production of many different hormones.”

“Yes, but what does that have to do with me?” the zebra mare asked.

“Our magic is naturally exuded, so as to not build to a dangerous level,” Meia said. “To hold in our magic, to hide it and never use it, would be like never going to the bathroom for a long time. Eventually, well, it’ll “explode” out, usually with horrible consequences.”

“As Maria said before, our magic is influenced by our biological state,” Trixie said. “The thing is, with our pregnancies, our exuded magic is spilling out of us and into you, my dear, as the hormonal imbalance is causing an excess expulsion of magic. Your close proximity to us all the time is likely the cause for it going straight to you.”

“...what?” the zebra asked. “But... how?”

“Through the air we breathe, Asalah, through the jugs of water we share: possibly even through the clothes we exchange. I must say, I’m sorry I didn’t realize it right away, but I never expected us three unicorns to be putting out so much excess magic that it was spilling over into you. Again, my apologies my dear,” Maria said, softly rubbing her stomach.

“So... your hormonal changes are affecting me as well, through your expelled magic?” Asalah asked, glancing over at Spike, who was still deep in conversation with the elephant matriarch. “So why isn’t Spike being affected?”

“I don’t know, but I believe I have two theories as to why,” Maria said. “He’s a dragon: reptiles produce and respond differently to hormones. Second, he’s a male: half of our hormones would have no effect in his body even if he were a stallion.”

“So... what am I supposed to do? I mean, I can’t keep going around like this!” Asalah sounded even more frustrated than she had before. "I can't concentrate on anything for very long, and even now I'm having trouble focusing on something besides Spike!"

“Well, as with all things, there are certain actions that can soothe excessive magic build-up,” Meia said, a small smile forming on her face. “For us unicorns, it is as simple as performing magic. But you, a zebra, cannot do this: you have no built-in magic “relief valve”, as some call our horns. There is, however, another way...”

“How?” Asalah asked, sounding almost desperate.

“Have sex: pure and simple,” Meia said. "Magic is exuded in many ways, as it is within the fluids of our bodies. During sex, some of the more powerful unicorns have actually cast spells mid-orgasm from their fluids alone."

There was silence as the fire crackled, the silence enshrouding them like the quiet after a storm. Nopony spoke for a while, with Asalah being too stupefied to form a coherent sentence.

“... really?” she asked, her voice almost a squeak. “That... that’s all it will take? A roll in the hay, as I have heard it put?”

“Well,” Meia began, clearly seeing a problem that could arise should Asalah rush into this. “It can’t be like what you did back in the Samarea Desert.”

“What? How am I supposed to do... it... different?” Asalah asked.

“More than one “romp”, if your symptoms are truly as troublesome as you say,” Trixie said, a small brush levitating from her satchel and combing through her mane. “You’ll likely have to go at least three times, if my memory on magic expulsion is correct. The body can only release so much in one go, and if what you say is indeed true, you won’t get this under control unless you “do it” more than once.”

“Three times? But... but I’ve only ever lasted once!” Asalah sounded rather embarrassed by this confession, as if she didn’t want any other only to know she didn’t have much stamina in bed.

“Asalah, nopony should be expected to be able to go more than one round in bed,” Meia said. “The same goes for stallions: usually both of the sexes take so long to reach their peak, everything works out after just one time.”

“But, as with any rule, there are exceptions, and there are many mares out there, like us, who can go more than just once,” Trixie said. “We, unlike they, have lucked out with having a stallion who can keep up with us, if not exceed our pace.”

“But... what am I supposed to do? I can last one round, and if I push it, maybe two... but three? What if I pass out halfway up to the second part? What if Spike blames himself, feeling as though it’s his fault I couldn’t go more? What if-,”

Maria gently placed a finger on Asalah’s lips, silencing the mare. “Asalah, relax: we’re unicorns, remember?” she said. “There are plenty of potions we could brew like that,” -she snapped her fingers at this- “that can give you the “inner fire” you need to achieve your goal. All we’ll need is a day to prepare it.”

“One day?” Asalah asked, her voice containing a trace of an adorable whine. “Well, I guess I can hold out for one more day...”

“Good, because I doubt Spike would want to try and have sex on an unwilling elephant’s back or out in the grasses,” Meia said. “He may be a male, but unlike most, he cares about the wants and needs of others all the time.”

“Very well: one more day it is,” Asalah said. “But what about-,”

She blinked: she was no longer around the fire. She was boarding a ship, leaving a port that she had no recollection of entering. Seagulls cawed in the air and the spray of the western Indian Ocean splashed against the deck of the ship. The smell of salt, heavier than that of the Meditermanean Sea, seemed to soak into her very bones. How in the world had she gotten here?

“Asalah, come on! We’re casting off!” Meia said, pulling her towards the steps leading to the lower decks.

Asalah blinked again: had she been daydreaming the entire time? Why had she chosen now, of all times, to think back on her conversation with the others around the fire?

Meanwhile, down below...

Spike looked around the cabin he had been given, making a mental note of everything that had been placed there. It wasn’t much, and the majority of what he had brought with him was in the cabin’s closet.

The journey had been easy that day, and ponysonally, Spike was thankful he had been given the good fortune of having great travelling weather. The city, whose name he had forgotten, looked rather beautiful in the setting sun. It wasn’t polished like Agrabah or industrious like the coastal towns of Equineland. It seemed more... rustic, more rural: small fishing boats lined the docks as far as the eye could see. The porthole through which he could see all this was rusted slightly around the ring, from the amount of salt water this ship had endured in its voyages.

Speaking of voyages, Spike had a funny feeling something... strange was going on. Like there was something happening under his very nose, and yet he couldn’t make out just what exactly it was. If Pinkie Pie was here, her Pinkie Sense would likely tell him it was going to be a doozy: he felt so sure that whatever was going to happen, it would be huge. Maybe one of his wives would have twins?

He smiled sheepishly at that thought: he was already going to have three bouncing baby dragon-unicorn hybrids in a little more than eight months. Did he really need to wish for another any time soon?

There was a knock at his door: the captain had told him that he and his wives wouldn’t be disturbed, so he had no idea just who it was. Walking over and opening it, he was surprised to see...

“Asalah? What... what brings you here?” Spike felt his tongue flop around in his mouth: she was wearing some rather... figure-hugging clothing that made him feel suddenly hot under the collar. “Are you all settled in?”

“Yes, Spike,” she said, having foregone calling him “husband” a few days ago. “We are all settled in, but I was hoping to ask you something.”

“Yes?” Spike said, stepping back to let her inside the room. The sun’s rays disappeared over the far horizon, as the night began to deepen over the harbor. The ship lurched as it moved amidst the waves: they had finally cast off and were heading towards Maredagascar.

“Could... could I spend the night with you? Just with you?” Asalah asked, as the four mares had been allocated to a larger cabin built for four occupants. She blinked innocently as she asked, taking a step towards her dragon husband.

“Oh, uh...,” Spike said, suddenly feeling really hot under the collar. Well, and hard: definitely getting hard under the... belt. “S-sure: let me get the bed r-ready.” He turned away, suddenly feeling like a school-colt whose tutor was hitting on him like a sledgehammer. Asalah was never this forward: either he really had underestimated her, or she was really, really horny this night.

With his back turned, Asalah withdrew the small flask the others had prepared for her, her stomach all a flutter with excitement. Would this finally do it? Would her aches, urges and feelings finally become subdued enough for her to function properly? With a quick motion she emptied the contents into her mouth, feeling the warm liquid burn down her throat and into her stomach.

Instantly she felt a change come over her: it was almost as if her eyes had been opened to the wonders of the opposite sex. Spike’s muscles moved enticingly under his shirt as he began to pull back some of the covers on the bed. They looked firm, hard, strong: the kind of muscles every mare dreamed her dreamstallion would possess. His tail moved behind his behind, swaying to and fro like some large, scaly tree trunk waiting to be climbed. Almost as a reflex, Asalah locked the door behind her without even looking. Then, in a flash, her hands were on her dress, pulling it from her body like it was burning her.

Spike looked up as he finished removing his shirt, hearing the rustling of fabric. Turning around, he was met with a blur of black and white pelt crashing into him. With a muffled shout, muffled by the pressing of soft lips over his own, Spike fell backwards onto the bed with his wife in tow.

“Asalah! What has gotten into you?” Spike asked after she had removed her lips from his own. She tasted... different, though thinking about how she tasted touched on something Spike had been wanting to give her since that night in the desert.

“I’m not sure,” she said untruthfully, rubbing her naked body against the bare chest of her husband while her hands snaked downwards. “I want you to know how much I love you.”

“I think I can see how much,” Spike said, feeling suddenly feeling protective after she said that. By Celestia’s gleaming white flank, was he always going to be this possessive whenever his wives showed a little affection?

They lay like this for a few minutes, Asalah rubbing her soft body over Spike’s scaly chest as her hands snaked down and undid his pants. Lifting himself off the bed with his wings and tail, Spike slid them off, his evident erection slapping against Asalah’s firm rear. Asalah moaned heartily at this, grinding herself against his erection. In her head, she knew she had to achieve three orgasms for the excess magic built up within her to be expelled, and from the way things were progressing, it wouldn’t be a difficult task at all.

Just as she finished thinking this, the ship lurched slightly: Spike took advantage of this action and spun them around in bed, so now he was on top. Asalah giggled like a school-filly, clearly not minding how their positions had been reversed.
“Asalah,” Spike said, nuzzling behind the sensitive flesh of her ears with his lips.

“Yes?” she asked, slightly out of breath. How in the world did this dragon know about all these erogenous zones?

He slid lower until his lips were pressed against her stomach, the soft fur of her pelt tickling his nose. His legs had slipped off the bed and he was now leaning over her, his feet flat on the floor. “Hold on.”

Without another word Spike arms snaked under her thighs and picked her up, the zebra suddenly finding herself vertical. As the dragon’s hands steadied her new position by holding her up along her lower back, Asalah gasped as he stood up and walked her away from the bed. A dresser, several feet high, stood in a corner. With due purpose, Spike set her down on the flat surface, her back pressed against the wall.

“Spike?” the zebra asked softly, not sure where this was going. Spike only responded by gently spreading his wife’s thighs, exposing her hot core to the world. She was swollen and leaking slightly, and now she would feel more of his love.

“Spike?” Asalah asked again, suddenly feeling nervous: was this some new game? “What are you... ohhh,” she moaned, her question cut off as something hot and very long entered her nethers. He had never done that before.

“Shh,” he muttered into her thighs, his tongue retreating enough for him to speak. “Just sit here and let me take care of you.”

“But, Spike, I- ahhh,” she moaned again, her words cut off by the feeling of Spike’s long, sinuous tongue entering her once more. She tried to squirm, but Spike’s hands held her legs in place, keeping them open enough for him to effortlessly explore her depths.

In a matter of minutes, Asalah was leaking all over her husband’s face, though the dragon paid it no mind. In fact, he seemed to enjoy is, judging from the way he slurped it all up: he even licked his entire face clean with his dexterous tongue. She struggled, she squirmed, she squeezed his head between her muscular thighs, but it did nothing to relieve the pleasures coursing through her lower body. Asalah’s hooves twitched with every lick, her fingers curled whenever Spike slurped: by the sun and moon above, it was torture. Pleasurable, unbelievably amazing torture.

Why hadn’t she let him do this that night back in the Samarea Desert? She could have been flopping like a flounder on the desert sand beneath his ministrations, and instead she had chosen to only go with what little she knew of sex. She did not regret that one bit, but this... this was something she couldn’t believe she had missed out on.

She felt the tongue retreat slightly, causing her to blink in confusion. “Spike? Wha-OH!” she almost shouted when she felt him nibble the edges of her exposed core. He nipped here and there, soft at first, but eventually those nips becoming harder and harder, until he was munching on her with his lips and teeth. Nothing hard enough to draw blood or leave a mark, of course, but it was an assault she had definitely not been prepared for.

Asalah was panting as though she had run a mile in under four minutes. Her back was pressed against the wall, the sweat surely soaking into the dry wood as the ship rocked beneath them. The zebra’s buxom chest heaved, her lungs burned for air, and with every nibble she felt shocks shoot through her body like an electric eel had been shoved in the very place Spike was tending to.

A sudden lurch of the ship sent Spike’s face right into her sopping wet opening, his nose and mouth buried in her folds. He must have thought fast, for in that split second, he started to hum, the vibrations proving too much for her body to resist. The sensation of so large and warm an object, punctured by the added momentum of it moving so fast and vibrating, sent Asalah over the edge for the first time that night. With a noise hallway between a squeal and a cry, she clenched, juices flowing out onto her husband’s face and head. Her muscular thighs clenched harder, the gripping action forcing Spike’s face a little deeper into her.

After her body quit convulsing, Asalah gently pried her legs off of her husband. Spike, his long tongue swirling over his face to get every last bit of her nectar, took a step back and helped her off the dresser.

“You still up for more?” he asked, giving her a devilish grin that made her already-rubbery legs go weak with need. She looked down to see him as hard as he had ever been, his proud shaft standing at full mast.

“O-of course,” she said, embracing him and trying to force him into her. She burned with need, and right now she wanted to be filled, to be pleasured by his giant dragon-

It did not go in. Spike had moved slightly to the side, so that when she went against them, it slid up between their bellies. Asalah looked at her husband in confusion, wondering why he had suddenly done this.

“Spike?” she asked as his hands gently moved up to her shoulders. “Is... is something wrong?”

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong,” Spike said, capturing her lips with his for a few moments. When he retreated, his eyes were sparkling with amusement. “I just wanted to ask you a question.”

“Yes?” Asalah said quietly.

“What do you want me to do, Asalah?” Spike asked, his voice becoming heavy with lust. “What do you want me to do to you?”

Oh wow, Asalah had never thought Spike’s voice could sound more sexy than when he spoke to her like that. Deep, rich, with a luxurious quality the likes of which could bring lesser mares to orgasm by merely hearing it. “I... I want you to take me,” she said, pressing her body against his so that their curves meshed. “I want you to make me moan, make me scream your name. Ravage me!” With that, she pushed against him, a sudden tilting of the ship sending them rushing backwards. With a thump, Spike landed against the wall, his surprised lips recaptured by Asalah’s.

“Mmph,” Spike said, spinning them both around so that Asalah thumped against the wall instead. They both knew the others were in the room next to them, through that very wall, but neither cared.

“Mmm,” Asalah replied, the heat in her body soaring once more as Spike’s hands roamed over her body until they gripped her by the waist. Her moans turned to a shout of surprise when he spun her around and pressed her buxom chest to the wall, her ass sticking presented before him.

“Spike, what-,” she began before being cut off by two of his fingers plunging into her core, making her almost jump. Then, as quick as they had been plunged in, they retreated. She tried to speak again, but Spike’s breath became hot on her neck as his wet fingers slid up her body and onto her mouth.

“Lick them,” he said softly, his voice beyond mortal sexy and now just entering into the realm of sex god... sexy. Asalah’s mind, hazy with lust and the driving need to be rutted, wasted no time in slobbering over her husband’s juice-coated fingers, tasting herself. Spike’s response was to slide the fingers into the corner of her mouth, causing Asalah to suck on them like the breasts from which she nursed.

She never felt so dirty in her life, licking the very fingers that had played with her marehood. The mere thought of doing such a thing was so taboo in her culture that actually doing it gave her a rush like nothing before. The taste, the feeling of her husband’s fingers in her mouth, his throbbing cock rubbing along her ass...

Wait, what?

“Spike?” she whinnied through his fingers in her mouth.

“Asalah, you said before what you wanted me...” Spike slid his shaft up her backside.

“Yes,” she gasped, sucking in a lungful of air after he removed his fingers. “I... I said I wanted you to... ravage me.”

“Request accepted,” Spike whispered in her ear, his hands snaking down until they rested on her taught stomach, the crooks of his elbows holding her sides. Sliding backwards and lining himself up with her still-dripping core, Spike thrust his hips forward, driving home.

“Oh, oh... oh my!” Asalah shouted, the force of Spike’s sudden thrust making her breasts rub against the wall. She was so full, so suddenly, that she swallowed another set of moans, lest she break down and just moan for the rest of the night. But after that first delicious, swift thrust of a strong, pulsating shaft, there wasn’t anything else: he had stopped. The horny zebra looked back over her shoulder to see her husband looking down at her firm backside. “Spike?”

“Your ass,” he muttered, pulling out some more before ramming his shaft back inside her.

“Y-y-yes?” she moaned.

“It’s... amazing,” he muttered, pulling out once more. As he slammed back in, he pushed against her with his entire body, pushing her into the wall. “So firm,” -thrust- “so muscular” -thrust- “so... jiggly”.

Every punctuated sentence was met with a powerful thrust, each one making Asalah squeak. Her rump would jiggle with every thrust, Spike entranced by the firm flesh moving in such an erotic way. Lowering one of his hands from her side, Spike grasped the underside of her thigh and lifted it up, allowing him to penetrate deeper than before. This shift in her stance mad her hit, tight canal even tighter, so that he actually had to put in some effort to slide in. And slide in he did: slurping noises accompanied him every time he shoved inside his fourth wife's glorious marehood.

They rutted like this for several more minutes, the combined squelching, squeaking and dripping of their mingling juices the only noise in the room. It was, at least until Asalah felt something stir within her. It was another orgasm: not as monstrously strong as her first, but enough to make her squeal. With a whinny she kicked against the wall with both hooves, repeating this as her entire body jiggled and twitched with her release. Spike thrust upward at the same time she clamped down, his shaft erupting within her as he pushed her up the wall. Thick, virile seed spilled forth into her, mixing with her own copious sexual fluids. A bit leaked out onto the floor, running down their legs as it did so: they didn't care.

Belly swelling with seed, breasts aching, legs cramping, muscles spasming: by the sun, Asalah was in heaven. She fell back into Spike’s arms, the weight of her making them stumble back onto the bed. Spike still lay inside her, still hard after one go.
“Spike, I love you,” she whispered, laying back as the dragon propped himself up.

“I love you too, Asalah,” he whispered, nuzzling her neck. Seriously, if he kept this up, by the time she entered heat, he'd get her pregnant with sextuplets or something.

She sighed, feeling full, satisfied, and happy... until she realized her predicament. She had gone twice: she needed to go one more time before her magic buildup went away. If Spike fell asleep, there was no telling when he would be able to go-

“Spike? What are you doing?” Asalah asked as she felt him slide up in her once more. That small thrust, nothing compared to any before, was still enough to make her breasts bounce in her field of vision, if only just. The large striped globes, if she had been pregnant, would likely have been lactating, a thought she sensed would be an unbelievably erotic sight.

“Finishing the job,” Spike said, turning her around while she was still impaled on his rock-hard shaft. Soon enough, she was lying on his chest, her ass up in the air as his hands raised her up off him. Her nipples, so hard it almost hurt, rubbed against his chest as he pushed her up and down, his shaft eagerly entering her love tunnel.

“Spike, please,” she moaned, snaking her tongue out across his cheek. From this angle, it felt even more different than she thought it would: it was is he were reaching up into her womb and tenderly caressing it with his soft but firm dick, a feat she knew neither of them could handle. “Make it last.” She never wanted the night to end: it was magical, it was perfect, it was what she had always wanted.

“I will.” He gently moved her in time with the boat, their bodies rocking to the gentle beat of love.

Author's Notes:

Well, after a hiatus caused by college work, laziness and rewrites, there it is: some clop. Don't worry: there'll be more soon, and to quote Pinkie Pie, it'll be a doozy!

And to those who wonder where I got the names for the giraffes, I volunteer at a local zoo in the summer. We have two giraffes there named Hodari and Zuri, which are Swahili for "brave" and "pretty". I worked the feeding station long enough to get to know them: they even recognize me whenever I come back!