PART 7: http://pastebin.com/TMPtZnp9

...

All things considered, Kiwi Keen the masseuse is rather cute. You pinch your thighs together and attempt to hide your swelling member in the folds of the towel, but to no avail. She moves forward with her teeth to remove the towel, slowly, tenderly. Your erection just about bops her on the nose as she pulls away, and she squeaks in surprise, dropping the towel.

"Ah! I am sorry... I scream, is not professional." Her face blossoms pink, a lovely contrast to her spring-green fur. "Scary. I mean, have not seen like it before. Only picture. I... I should stop talking and get back to work? I try not to lick at it—look at it!"

Her hind legs are nervously flexing as she shifts her weight, hot and bothered.

...

[ALTERNATE CHOICE]

"Please continue. It's alright." You try to relax yourself a bit, which is easy given the amazing massage she's given you. Still, there's a palpable tension in the air as she approaches you again. You decide to broach the subject. "You like humans?"
"I... yes."
"You hadn't seen a man like this before, though?"
"No, I have not! I'm sorry if my work is not good. You will tell if I am doing something wrong?"
"Don't worry. I'll show you a few things." You reach out and tuck a bit of her mane behind her ear. "Could you lock the doors, please?"

Your privacy secured, Kiwi returns to the chaise wordlessly. She sheds her uniform with little effort, letting it slough from her withers as she saunters towards you. Her supple form burns into your vision, the ornate trappings of the estate fading from your sight. Soon, she sits half-on, half-off the upholstery, drinking you with her eyes as an errant hoof wanders over your waist.

You realize a precious minute has been wasted appreciating each other's company.
"Ah, could you start with your mouth?"
"Mm? I am licking it?" She twists slightly, bowing her head to take you over her tongue. It timidly twirls about your tip, but even the slight tickling sends a jolt of sensation radiating outwards to your neck and toes. She giggles when she notices this. "Hee... stallion and man are not so different, yes?"
"I wouldn't know that... but this is the best part of the massage so far." You realize your hand is tearing into the upholstery and struggle to relax your fingers.

She steadies your member between her hooves, loose strands of her mane cascading partway over her face. You strain to observe her technique until she suddenly swallows you in quick motion. You realize she may have been salivating copiously for a while now. A slight turn of your head reveals to you that she's been dripping, too.

Her throat, tongue, cheeks, and teeth work in obscene perfection, rippling over your length as she bobs her head. You keep your gaze transfixed on her hindquarters, refocusing your mind to keep from climaxing too soon. The sight of her sopping marehood is motivation enough to keep you firm and unflinching, and your tormented throbbing only urges her ministrations to a heightened pace.

You've had enough. Your fingers twist into her mane, crushing her snout against your groin and keeping her there to feel you pulsing against her airway for a tortuous half-dozen seconds before ripping yourself from her, her lips and nostrils trailing thick ropes of spittle, tears, and precum. Breathing heavily, you sit up and look her in the eyes, dragging her up onto the couch by the ears.

"Take me like human do? On my back?" She tries to pull away, but you have her skull well within your grasp, forcing her to look into your eyes as you guide her backwards. She ekes out a smile, her trembling legs readily spreading for you. "Human is let's having sex?"
"No, Kiwi," you whisper as your shadow engulfs her. "We call it making love."

The bathroom echoes with her cries as your manhood fills her. Every inch discovers a new notch in volume, every stroke a pitch shift. You hold her close, embracing her smaller equine body. Her tortured breathing fills your ear as you lock yourself into her, cheek to cheek in a close dance without steps. In those moments where you are hilted to her perfect sheath, you can feel her winking like mad, sucking you into herself without thinking.

The scent of the bath and massage oils has long since given way to the combined musk of your sweat mixing with her aroused discharge as your scrotum slaps against her haunches. You close your eyes and bury your face in the rolling waves of her mane, listening to her occasional moans welling up from deep within her.

It's a unique perspective, being able to physically trace the force of your thrusts as they travel throughout her body. You can feel her stifles and gaskins seize up before giving way to ecstatic quivers. At the same time her entire barrel seems to ripple from your efforts, sending a shockwave through her lungs. You can feel her orgasm starting long before you hear it. She forms a desperate chokehold around your base, heralding a split-second scream, followed with mindless grinding against you as her body hungrily betrays her.

When she's stopped quaking, you rise a bit to look her in the eyes again. She can hardly focus, as if lost in a dream.
"Are you alright, Kiwi?"
"I feeling so good, sir..."
"Anon. Call me Anon." You peel a wet snatch of hair from her face. The slight movement of your body sets her off again, her face wrenches in exquisite discomfort. "Sorry. You must be very sensitive."
She nods, eyes shut tight. You can feel an aching ripple greet you inside of her.
"Can I finish? I'm close. You're really good." You lie; you've been doing your best not to cum too soon. It would be a shame to not enjoy this fine specimen of a mare for as long as possible. Her eyes open to a pained squint as she nods again, giving you permission to ravage her further.

You swear the chaise has shifted nearly halfway across the tile from your constant pumping of the tender masseuse. When your muscles tire, you shift position to change how you thrust, always crushing her with your weight. You get to know every inch of her, and you can even identify the different gasps she reserves for the varied thrusts you give her. Kiwi looks to be in genuine pain as yet more orgasms rock her senses. It drives you over the edge, and you can finally feel the end coming.

A flash of teal burns through your mind, and a sharp dagger suddenly lodges itself in your brain. Your ecstasy is replaced with a flood of doubt and desperation, and instead of ramming your finale into her, you hastily pull out to the cold, unwelcoming air. You paint Kiwi's soft green coat with a thick layer of semen, collecting around her in a pearlescent spill.

In the tired aftermath, she mistakes your stoic expression for one of satisfaction. After regaining her composure and stretching her legs, she helps herself to a dip in the bath to clean off your most intimate scent, but not before she tongues up heaping globs of your seed staining her fur.

"Thank you, kind sir Anon." She gives you a peck on the cheek.
"Thank you, Miss Kiwi Keen." You playfully slap her flank as she walks past you, her oils gathered and her uniform folded neatly. You watch her go as you settle into the bath once more, cleaning off the remnants of your guilty pleasure.

As you lean back in the tub, you swear you can see the chandelier bouncing slightly. What is Lyra doing in her room...?

...

You put on some warm clothes and pocket some bits in preparation for going out. Surely, Lyra won't begrudge you letting her have some quality time with Bonbon.

As you approach the foyer and get your coat on, a valet addresses you. "Would you like a carriage, sir?"

[WAKE UP]