Luna (Watersports)

>You are a guard, standing just behind the Princess and Guardian of the Night within the shadows of the high tower opening up to the small marble balcony.

>Her demeanor is calm, untroubled as she looks with one eye shut through her telescope, studying the stars and the planets.

>Occasionally, her horn would glow that soft, pale blue as she tilted her telescope downward to scour the open, moonlit streets of Canterlot.

>Just as quickly as it glanced downward, it would smoothly look back up to the star-studded night sky that she had crafted so beautifully.

 

>A cloak was arranged around her shoulders, the hood resting against the lower portion of her long, slender neck and between her shoulder blades, protecting her elegant body from the steady, cool breezes sweeping through.

 

>Her tongue seemed held under a vice grip, not even a single melancholy sigh had passed her lips the entire night that you had stood there behind her.

>You staid just as silent and still, just as you sensed was the way to be around this under-rated sibling of the Equestrian goddess.

 

>Her black cloak covered any... detailed sights of her hindquarters, and you were not quite resentful of such.

>Being a royal guard, there would be too many difficulties lusting after any of the alicorns.

>Rather it be Celestia and Luna's immortal stone hearts, Cadance's husband, or Twilight Sparkle's insecurity of being a blooming royal, not to mention her over-protective older brother.

 

>However, the first sound out of her maw that you had heard all night was that of an uncomfortable whimper.

>Assuming that the whimper wasn't good, you immediately began to further shatter the silence, an edge of concern and the slightest tinge of panic on your voice.

"What is it, Princess? Is everything all right?"

>"W-we are just fine... What is there to be worried about?"

>She was grunting, and she seemed tense, as if straining to hold something.

 

>Taking a deep breath, you brushed aside her cloak, just hardly stifling a blush.

>A puddle of around three drops was beginning to form just below her, a yellowish liquid.

>She was clearly startled once you removed her cloak, and she tried desperately to jerk it back into position.

"Princess, imagine the laughingstock you will become when one of the other royals finds out! Cadance has quite the tendency to gossip, you should know..."

>You attempt to reason with her, and she sighs deeply, a visible tinge of reddish pink showing through her dark blue coated cheeks.

>She gives in reluctantly, with a strained voice so you could hardly make out what she was saying -- though you could just hear the word 'fine.'

>Keeping aside the curtain of the cloak, you take a deep breath of the musk as you lean in slowly closer, sticking out your tongue to catch the drops slowly falling from the princess' sex.

>From the small drops, you couldn't craft a taste for her urine, however you were sure with the risky thing you were to do, you wouldn't be able to banish the taste for weeks.

>Minding that your horn didn't jab her stomach, privates or anus, you worked your head up, within tongue's reach of the leaky faucet.

>She smelled vaguely of a cool summer evening, fresh and rejuvenating, hard to explain; though you couldn't linger long, for she was about to let loose all over the polished marble.

>Not to mention losing respect from the sisterhood, possibly banishment. Rather it be from the guard, or worse.

>You cast your ideas aside, stretching your tongue up, sliding the flat surface across her labia. Noticing her wink, she let out a small, adorable gasp.

>Quickly going to work, you noticed she's loosened up, beginning to let out a slow, steady trickle into your slightly gaping jaws.

>Swiftly, you lap up anything that would have dripped off of or stained your muzzle before teasing at her clitoris with your very tip, getting her to release just a little bit more.

>You wish that your nose wasn't buried in the entrance to her sex so you could urge her to just let it flow.

>However, you let her do it herself, letting your tongue be bathed in her piss.

>It tasted slightly of the moonshine that you had sitting at the back of your packed shelf in your room, which you had gotten sips of from time to time when you were annoyed with... well, life in general.

>It made you feel almost blissful, but mentally you vigorously shook your head, finally milking her of the last of her, though reluctantly released, urine.

>Once finished, and cleaning her up with your tongue, you pulled away from her and straightened up, awkwardly wiping your muzzle with your hypothetical sleeve.

>She spoke nothing of it, just giving a nod, a weak smile, and what seemed to be a wink.

>You cleared your throat softly, and returned to your post, allowing your pure white coat to be wreathed and engulfed in shadow from the light-lacking tower.