Apple Bloom hosts a CMC sleepover for Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, complete with sexy games after lights out. Filly-on-filly fun! Afterwards, Sweetie Belle is surprisingly still hot to trot, and the big reason is just down the hall. Eeyup!
Apple Bloom is really excited. She's hosting an official Cutie Mark Crusader sleepover, and she needs to make sure that everything is ready. Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo will be expecting an evening full of fun activities, capped off with their signature sexy games after lights out.
After all that filly-on-filly fun, you'd think Sweetie Belle would sleep like a rock, but she's still hot to trot, and the big reason is just down the hall. Eeyup!
“Slow down, there, steam-shovel,” admonished Applejack, who was watching her little sister, Apple Bloom as she gobbled down her supper. “At least chew the food a little bit.” Not that Apple Bloom wasn’t enjoying the meal—it was quite good, especially the apple oat casserole—it was just that she was too excited to slow down. “Eating like one of the barnyard pigs,” continued Applejack, “won’t make yer friends show up any faster. They won’t be here for another half-hour.”
“Eeyup,” agreed her older brother, Big Macintosh, although he was already finishing his second helping of dessert.
Apple Bloom ignored her siblings, gulped the last few mouthfuls, and asked to be excused from the table.
“No dessert?” asked Granny Smith with a quizzical raised eyebrow. “It’s my carrot cake. I even made it with the clover icing that you like so much.”
“Um, ah’ll have some later. With Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo. That is, if there's enough,” she added hastily, hoping the inquiry would suffice as good manners.
“Oh, there’s a-plenty, don’t you worry,” beamed Granny, who seemed pleased that her culinary confection would be sampled by even more hungry ponies.
Apple Bloom exited the kitchen and took the steps two at a time on the way up to her room. Hosting an official Cutie Mark Crusaders sleepover was a responsibility that the little filly took very seriously, and she needed to check that everything was ready. Her canopied, four-poster bed had freshly-laundered sheets and pillowcases. It was high summer, so they wouldn’t need any blankets. She made sure that her guests had places cleared where they could put their duffel bags. Overall, her room was pretty clean—well, much cleaner than usual, anyway, and Apple Bloom nodded to herself in approval.
She poked her muzzle into her bathroom. It was small, but she loved having a toilet and sink of her own. It was sparkling and smelled of fresh lemons, thanks to the thorough cleaning that Apple Bloom had given it earlier that afternoon. She admired the three color-coordinated toothbrushes lined up in the holder—white, yellow, and orange, just like the coats of the three little ponies that would use them at bedtime.
In the few minutes she had left, Apple Bloom went through her mental checklist of the things she hoped to do with her friends that evening. Take the new CMC flag to the clubhouse. Try for cutie marks in paper airplane making (Sweetie Belle’s idea). Play freeze tag with Big Mac. Catch lightning bugs in big mason jars. Oh, and eat that dessert, too.
With almost perfect timing, she heard Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle chattering loudly as they were arriving at the big farmhouse. Apple Bloom broke out in a wide grin as she thought of the fun-filled summer evening that loomed ahead, and the fact that she would spend it with her two best friends in the world made it even sweeter.
Hearing the excited voices of her approaching friends also made that feeling in her haunches return in full force. That nagging, tingly, achy feeling that she had tried to ignore all afternoon long. She glanced over at her bedside table to make sure the deck of playing cards was ready to go. It was. Apple Bloom’s front hoof strayed down toward her flank, and she allowed herself a couple quick caresses of her inner thigh.
“No more,” she chided herself silently, “that’ll come later.” Her grin widened and took on an air of mischievousness. And when she realized the clever double entendre, she giggled. “That’ll come later,” she chortled, as she ran off to meet her sleepover guests.
The last of the daylight was fading fast as the three little fillies sat on the front porch of the farmhouse. They were taking turns eating and talking, recounting the evening’s activities between big mouthfuls of carrot cake and gulps of ice-cold milk. The glasses sweated in the lagging summer heat, and Apple Bloom used both hooves to make sure that she didn’t spill her drink. Granny Smith had outdone herself with the cake, and the clover icing was truly delicious. Scootaloo had a big daub of it smeared on the side of her nose, and Apple Bloom thought several times of leaning over and licking it off, but she resisted the temptation. Besides, the really fun games weren’t that far off now.
Turning her attention back to the sporadic conversation, Apple Bloom was pleased at how well things had gone over the past few hours. Everypony agreed that the clubhouse flag was marvelous, thanks to the helping hoof that the Crusaders had gotten from Rarity at her boutique. They had played an epic game of freeze tag, which had included both Applejack and Big Mac, and even featured a cameo appearance by her older sister’s dog, Winona, who lacked an understanding of the rules, but made up for it in enthusiasm. Countless lightning bugs had been acquired and released, and they were now busily blinking across the farmyard. Even the paper airplanes had been lots of fun, although they had not yielded any cutie marks as hoped.
As if on cue, a silence settled in, and the fillies listened to the buzzing, chirping, creaking sounds of the summer evening. Sweetie Belle stretched and yawned. Scootaloo patted her full belly in satiated appreciation. Apple Bloom picked up her empty glass and plateful of crumbs and headed inside. The other two followed suit. The girls placed their dishes in the sink and turned to head upstairs.
“Hold it right there, fillies” called Applejack from the living room.
Apple Bloom let out an audible grunt of disappointment—she hated it when her sister interrupted her and her friends’ activities.
“There’s no way you lot are getting in that nice, clean bed. Why y’all are dirtier than work boots on a mud farm.”
“Aww,” chorused all three fillies, trying to appear clean and angelic. Truth be told, they were about as sweaty and dirty and grass-stained as three little ponies could be. “Do we have to?”
“Eeyup,” exclaimed Big Mac, who had appeared out of nowhere and whisked his little sister into the air. He headed out the kitchen door with Apple Bloom slung over his broad shoulder. She knew that resistance to her big brother was futile, so she gave in and let herself be carried while AJ herded the other two behind.
With little fanfare, Apple Bloom found herself being tossed into the large wooden washtub that the Apple family kept in the backyard. At least somepony had filled it with fresh, cool water. Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle begged Big Mac to throw them, too, and he eventually conceded. With screeches and splashes, the tub gained a second and then a third occupant.
“Soap and shampoo,” commanded Applejack, looking her sister directly in the eye to make sure that she was clearly understood. Apple Bloom gave a solemn nod of contrition, and the older siblings went back into the farmhouse.
The sunlight had long ago faded, but the moon was halfway up, and mostly full, so the girls had plenty of light by which to bathe. Although Apple Bloom had put up a fight, the cool water actually felt really nice on her pelt, and she held her nose and submerged beneath the surface. She liked the muted quiet that a pony experienced underwater, and she stayed under as long as her lungs permitted. Her friends had started washing, and she allowed herself to look at their lithe little bodies, and all the soapy rubbing that was going on. Ooh, the ache between her haunches was back. It wouldn’t be long now. She wondered if her friends were having similar, naughty thoughts.
Resurfacing, she spit a large mouthful of water at Scootaloo, who squealed and returned the salvo. An all-out water battle ensued, and Apple Bloom felt that she held her own despite the fact that Scootaloo employed her wings as a shield and Sweetie Bell used her magic to lob wobbly spheres of water at her adversaries. Between the hoof-splashes and water-bombs, the fillies somehow managed a pretty thorough wash. Apple Bloom would have loved to take turns with her friends lathering each other up—she was getting pretty anxious now—but her sister would periodically peer out of the kitchen window. Applejack may be pretty cool as big sisters go, but she had made it clear that bathing etiquette included a “keep-your-hooves-to-yourself” policy.
Good mane and tail care is very import to a farming family, who spend lots of time out in the elements, and the Apples always kept an assortment of sweet-smelling shampoos and conditioners on hoof. Apple Bloom’s favorite shampoo was Green Apple Pear, and she squirted a generous amount into her hoof, and slowly worked it into her long, red mane.
Scootaloo selected a spicy-sweet Cinnamon Vanilla and hastily rubbed a dollop into her little magenta mane. Apple Bloom couldn’t imagine having such a short-cropped manecut, but Scoot liked it--easy to manage, she had once explained.
Sweetie Belle looked carefully over all of the choices before settling on a Peppermint and Lavender Crème Rinse. Apple Bloom couldn’t be happier. She secretly thought that Sweetie Belle had the most beautiful mane in all of Equestria, and she loved her lavender and pink curls even more when they smelled lavender and pink, too. With any luck she would fall asleep with her muzzle buried in all that damp luxuriousness.
Three, freshly-washed-and-dried little mares waited in the big, four-poster bed in Apple Bloom’s room. They were passing the time playing a mindless card game of Warhorse in the dim light coming from one of the bedside table lamps. Apple Bloom could hardly contain herself, and she was pretty sure her companions felt the same excitement by the way they their tails were twitching. They were waiting for Applejack to make an appearance; she still felt that her duties as big sister including tucking the fillies in, even though there weren’t any blankets and Apple Bloom had repeatedly protested, saying they were too old to be “treated like foals”.
“Okay, you rascals,” announced Applejack as she came up the stairs, “time for all little fillies to hit the hay.” She entered the room and gave it a cursory glance to make sure everything was set for the night. “Did y’all brush your teeth?” came the inevitable inquiry.
They had. Each pony had diligently taken her turn, using the facilities and brushing her teeth.
“Yes, AJ, we sure did,” assured Apple Bloom.
Applejack leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her little sister’s forehead, and then gave a nuzzle to all three in turn. She secretly took a small sniff near each filly to make sure that they really had brushed their teeth. Having gotten three positive, minty results, Applejack reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. “Goodnight, y’all,” she said sweetly, and she closed the bedroom door behind her.
Apple Bloom listened as her older sister walked down the hall and closed the door to her own room. Applejack tended to hover too much during the day, but, to her credit, she always left the fillies alone once she said her goodnights. Apple Bloom knew that as long as they stayed in place and kept the commotion down to a dull roar, she and her friends would be undisturbed for the rest of the night. The three friends looked at each other and smiled, their bright eyes shining in the moonlight that was streaming in through the bedroom windows. Apple Bloom actually shivered with excitement. Then she remembered something.
“Oh! Wait. Before we start,” exclaimed Apple Bloom as she climbed out of bed, “check this out!” She walked over to one corner of the room and plugged something in. The room got brighter.
“Cool!” chimed Sweetie Belle.
“Awesome!” shouted Scootaloo, trying a bit too much to sound like Rainbow Dash.
Apple Bloom admired her afternoon’s work. She had taken a couple of strings of the white lights from the winter holiday season, and hung them in loose arcs around her room. The result was a wonderful, soft illumination that filled the whole room. Just perfect for the fun that was about to begin.
Their games had started out innocently enough. At previous sleepovers, the little fillies would talk about the colts from school, or what they looked for in a young stallion, or who they wanted to be their Very Special Somepony. Topics evolved as the girls grew. They would discuss their findings or glimpses of male pony anatomy, and debate what the act of rutting would be like someday. All this exciting talk eventually led to mutual exploration and touching and licking, and, well, now the three best friends were quite skilled in the art of giving and receiving of manual and oral pony pleasure.
Apple Bloom climbed back into her big bed and grabbed the deck of cards; its illustration was a cluster of red butterflies. It had been given to her a few years ago on her birthday by her Auntie Applesauce, and the little filly was pretty sure that her dull aunt would faint cold if she knew what she used them for. As she shuffled the cards, she looked at her friends.
“Y’all ready?” she inquired impishly.
“Mmm hmm!” said Scootaloo hungrily, “I’ve been thinking about this all day!”
“Me too!” agreed Sweetie Belle, “and I kept it under control until Big Mac picked me up to throw me in the bathtub. He is so hot,” she said in Apple Bloom’s direction, pronouncing the last two words as if they were sentences of their own.
Apple Bloom ignored the comment about her brother and spread the cards out on the bed. She didn’t have to say anything—everypony knew the rules, and they were very simple. Cards would be chosen to randomly select the partners. Low card gave pleasure, high card received. Middle card would play a sideline role. Giver, Getter, Gawker. Then the roles would cycle twice so that each pony had a turn at all three places. As hostess, Apple Bloom was expected to draw first. She selected a card near her and turned it over. It was the seven of apples. Scootaloo picked next and flipped over the three of horseshoes, and groaned. Sweetie Belle, who had a knack at drawing high, reached into the pile and revealed a queen of apples.
Apple Bloom gathered up the cards and deposited them back on the bedside table, while Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo eagerly assumed their positions. Cricket song filled the warm summer night air, and Apple Bloom curled up beside her friends, with her hoof down between her thighs, rocking herself a little bit to keep up her arousal, but she’d have to watch that she didn’t go too far by herself. She still had the two best rounds coming up, after all.
The holiday lights were proving to be a stroke of genius, providing a gentle wash of illumination over the whole room; they afforded an amazing view of the action unfolding on the bed. Sweetie Belle, reclining, had placed a folded-up pillow under her hips, which raised her rump into the air, giving Scootaloo unrestricted access to her tiny marehood. It was already glistening.
“Wow, Sweetie,” admired the little pegasus, “You’re already sopping wet!”
“I told you that Big Mac got me all revved up,” explained Sweetie Belle.
“Well, I’m glad he left some work for me,” chuckled Scootaloo, as she began placing soft kisses on Sweetie’s inner thigh. Sweetie Belle let out a soft moan, closed her eyes, and tilted her head back on the pillow as Scootaloo’s darting tongue found its mark.
It was Scootaloo who had first tried—several months ago—using her tongue and muzzle to give pleasure to her friends, and needless to say, it had been a big hit. All three had quickly become similarly skilled and thoroughly enjoyed being licked and nuzzled. Apple Bloom was envious of the little unicorn being pleasured, for what Scootaloo omitted in foreplay, she more than made up for with her tireless tongue and ever-changing licking patterns.
Apple Bloom moved closer to get a better view of Sweetie Belle’s marehood. She had never seen it wetter or splayed wider. Scootaloo was caressing Sweetie’s flanks while flicking her clitoris with her tongue. Then she would plunge her tongue deep inside the pink folds and vibrate the whole area with her muzzle. Sweetie Belle moaned sweetly over and over—it was almost like a melody. Apple Bloom allowed herself a couple of rubs down her own stomach, further down, and further, and oh that felt so amazing. She was pretty wet herself.
Scootaloo came up for air and licked her lips. “Mmmm, you taste so good, Sweetie Belle!” the little giver said enthusiastically, “and you smell, well, AWESOME!” Apple Bloom noticed that the prone pegasus’ wings were flared with excitement. She gave them a couple of flaps, stretched her torso, and settled back between Sweetie Belle’s haunches.
Slurps and smacking noises followed, but Apple Bloom couldn’t see very much, so she turned her attention to the getter, who was breathing heavily now and biting her lip. The little unicorn was getting close to cumming. In confirmation of this fact, her small horn had begun to glow faintly. Apple Bloom was always a bit amazed by unicorn magic, but Sweetie Belle had simply the best trick ever—and it was involuntary, to hear her tell it. When she orgasmed, her horn shot off a tiny, pink spark of fireworks. So when Sweetie Belle “saw stars,” everybody involved did, too. And the moment wasn’t far off, either.
“Hah. Hah. Hah. Hmmh,” huffed Sweetie Belle, arching her back higher with each exhale, “Hmmah! Hmmah! HAHH!!”
*POP!!*
Apple Bloom watched as a small, pink spark rose a few inches into the air, and then exploded into several, fizzy fragments which formed the shape of a heart. It quickly dissipated into nothingness. But Scootaloo had caught the show. The spark was old news, but the heart-shape thing was a new twist.
“Cool,” mused Scootaloo as she wrinkled her wet muzzle, “Very cool.”
Sweetie Belle trotted off to the small bathroom while the other two fillies rearranged the pillows on the bed and switched spots. Scootaloo tucked her wings and laid down on her back, and Apple Bloom took her place between Scoot’s legs, being careful not to sit on her magenta tail.
“I won’t be able to stay like this for too long,” reminded the pegasus, “my wings kinda have a mind of their own after I get going.”
“Ah know,” acknowledged Apple Bloom in her cute southern drawl. She was tying back her long mane to keep it out of the way. “Ah just like it when you start out lying down.”
Apple Bloom loved to begin slowly, and took great pleasure in nuzzling the downy coat of the little pegasus’ chest. She placed a series of small kisses down her stomach and caressed her flanks softly with her hooves. Scootaloo let out a couple of squeaky sighs, and Sweetie Belle, just returning from the little fillies’ room, magicked a pillow over Scoot’s face to muffle the sound.
They had all learned the hard way that Scootaloo was a very—ahem—vocal little pony when it came to their sexy games. Apple Bloom recalled with a shudder the sleepover at Rarity’s place, when Sweetie Belle’s older sister had almost discovered their shenanigans when she came investigating the “strange noises” that she had heard.
With Scootaloo properly soundproofed, Apple Bloom moved down between Scoot’s haunches which still smelled nicely of her cinnamon and vanilla bath. Her tail was mostly dry, but was still a tiny bit damp near the base. Scoot’s tiny butthole was clean and pink, and Apple Bloom inhaled deeply. There was something exciting about sniffing a newly-washed pony in a place that, under normal circumstances, could be more than a bit unpleasant. Apple Bloom’s nose was just an inch away from the puckered button, and she hesitantly stuck out her tongue. It was soft and warm, and she licked it tenderly.
In reaction to this unexpected approach, Scootaloo sat up a little and looked down between her legs. Apple Bloom felt this hesitance, and was about to stop, but Scoot quickly melted back into the mattress and replaced the pillow over her face. It wasn’t long until the little pegasus’ sighs of pleasure started up once again.
After a short while, Apple Bloom could tell that Scootaloo’s wings were getting restless, and finally the little pegasus had to flip over. She assumed a face-down position and stuck her butt in the air, while she hugged a pillow with both hooves under her face. This way, her now erect wings—small as they were—could stretch and flap. It was, in fact, Sweetie Belle who had discovered the spot on Scoot’s inner thigh that, when rubbed in just the right way, made her left wing flap along with the rubs. It reminded Apple Bloom of the way you could scratch Winona’s belly and make her leg gyrate at the same time.
With Scootaloo now in a reversed position, Apple Bloom decided to lay on her back and slide under her friend’s haunches, like a mechanic under a chasse. She looked up, and there were Scoot’s little lips and tiny nub, slick and ready. With her hooves, Apple Bloom pulled Scootaloo’s haunches downward so that her tongue could go to work. She licked the delicate folds and flicked the clitoris. She made her tongue stiff and pushed it in as far as it would go between the fleshy sides. She could feel whenever Scoot’s wings flapped and buzzed. Scootaloo took control of the rhythm by lifting and mushing her privates down onto Apple Bloom’s face.
Apple Bloom was a bit surprised at the sound of unicorn magic, and spied a pink glow surrounding Scootaloo’s tail. Sweetie Belle knew that Scoot loved tailplay, and was helping out by gently (and occasionally not-so-gently) pulling, twisting, and tugging in rhythm with the thrusts. Pretty soon, the little pegasus was screaming with delight and panting heavily into her pillow, clinging to it as if her life depended on it.
Underneath of all the action, Apple Bloom’s tongue and jaw were starting to get tired, and she distracted herself from that ache by focusing on the one between her legs. She let go of one of Scoot’s haunches and used that hoof to rub her own stomach—and lower down, too. Oh sweet stars, was she ready to have her turn soon.
But she wouldn’t have to wait long, because Scoot’s inner thighs had begun to shake, and very soon her core muscle contractions would begin. In preparation for the inevitable climax, Apple Bloom opened her mouth wide, and made as tight a seal around Scoot’s privates as she could manage. She knew firsthoof that the excitable little pegasus was quite a squirter when it came to her orgasms, and had once taken a shot of fresh Scootaloo juice right in the eye. That had not been fun at all, although Sweetie Belle had laughed so hard that she just about peed herself.
As expected, Scootaloo tensed up, and then released a warm wash of fresh filly cum into Apple Bloom’s waiting mouth. In conjunction with the smell of the cinnamon shampoo, it somewhat reminded her of drinking hot apple cider. Of course it wasn’t as sugary sweet, but it was still pretty darn tasty.
‘Two down, me to go,’ thought Apple Bloom.
Finally, after a long day of waiting, it was her turn.
Apple Bloom quickly took the spot vacated by Scootaloo and stretched out on her back. She spread her legs as far apart as they would go, and spurred Sweetie Belle on. “Oh, please hurry,” she said to the little unicorn between her legs, “I’m so excited right now, I can’t see straight.” That was the problem with going last. She couldn’t ever remember being this horny.
“I can tell,” replied Sweetie Belle, “I’ve never seen you like this. Maybe I should touch you and kiss you and lick you everywhere except…” She trailed off and let the threat hang in the air.
“And I’ll hold your hooves back,” added Scootaloo, joining in the tease “so you can’t pleasure yourself either! We’ll keep you hanging all night long.” She rubbed her hooves together menacingly.
“But that’s not fair!” cried Apple Bloom. Would her friends be so mean as to actually do that? She admitted to herself that it might be a fun game to try on another night, but not at the moment. What she needed right bucking now was Sweetie Belle’s tongue on her clit.
Thankfully, her friends broke out in giggles and let the torture idea drop. Sweetie Belle went to work right where she was so desperately needed, and Apple Bloom sighed as the first waves of pleasure began. She laid back and rested her one arm on her forehead, and closed her eyes. She concentrated on her breathing. Deep breaths. Lots of oxygen.
Apple Bloom was picturing Sweetie Belle’s tongue and her own, slick marehood. Her unicorn friend was doing an admirable job—she may not be quite the cunning linguist that Scootaloo was, but she was certainly improving her game. Apple Bloom found herself gasping as Sweetie Belle’s stiff tongue pushed itself up inside her. Again and again the tongue probed, and Apple Bloom began to rock her hips in time. A few, small moans of pleasure escaped her lips. This was getting really good!
A short pause followed—a little unexpected, maybe, but Sweetie Belle was most likely shifting positions or something—and then the thrusting began again. Deeper than before. Stiffer! Better! What was she doing with her tongue?! Apple Bloom almost didn’t care because it felt so amazing—oh, mighty mare, amazing—but her curiosity got the better of her after a while, and she peeked down between her legs.
Of course she was looking at Sweetie Belle’s head, but she could only see a mass of pink and lavender curls. Where was her face? Where was her…HORN! And with wide-eyed alarm, Apple Bloom realized that Sweetie Belle was using her stubby little horn, sliding it in and out of her tiny, pink marehood.
The horn’s owner must have sensed the disturbance, and Sweetie Belle withdrew. She looked up at Apple Bloom with curiosity. “So, what’d you think? Like it? I thought of it a few days ago, and I thought I’d surprise you! I can’t really see what I’m doing with my head down, but you were doing most of the work anyway and it’s not sharp at all. Well?” inquired the little unicorn.
“Best. Idea. EVER!” squealed Apple Bloom, “Keep going!” She laid back down and shut her eyes tight. Carefully this time, she moved her hips and felt the horn part her lips and push apart the walls. Slowly in. Slowly out. She thought that she could even feel the spiral ridges if she really concentrated. A little faster now. She pictured her slick lips wrapping around the smooth horn. It was tremendous.
In fact, it was making her feel something altogether new. Something wonderful. It was sort of a rhythmic fullness—something like the way she felt at that amazing DJ Pon3 concert. When the melody would rise and swell, and then the bass dropped. She felt something building up within her, and she was riding it to new heights of ecstasy. It wouldn’t be long now.
But then Scootaloo did something unexpected, too. Apple Bloom felt the pegasus lean over and start licking her clit. She was being doubly attended to by both Sweetie Belle’s horn and Scootaloo’s tongue, and she had never felt anything like it. The deep, thumping bass had now been joined by a delightful, rollicking anthem. Apple Bloom felt like her body was being pulled apart, in two separate, yet equally fulfilling ways.
And then came the crescendo—loud and intense and scary and brilliant. She floundered for a pillow and bit down hard. She arched her back and savored every contraction. The first few racked her body so hard that she had to brace herself by grabbing hooffulls of the mattress. Then she relaxed her grip and let the remaining reverberations play out.
It was the best orgasm she had ever had; best by a longshot.
Now that, truly, had been worth waiting all day for.
Sweetie Belle awoke to the sounds of gentle rain outside and Apple Bloom snoring quietly in her ear. The warm evening had given way to a chilly night, and the pegasi responsible for weather had apparently herded storm clouds over Sweet Apple Acres in order to water the trees and clear out the lingering heat of the day. Sweetie Belle had been a bit sweaty and hot when she fell asleep, but now she shivered on the bed in the cool, moist breeze.
She extricated herself from her sleeping companions, hopped out of bed, and went to the large chest at the foot of the bed. Quietly, she lifted the heavy lid and grabbed three lightweight blankets that she knew were kept there. She threw one over Scootallo as best she could, for the little pegasus was sleeping on her back, wings folded under, with her four legs spread at wild angles. Apple Bloom was still snoring on her side, in a somewhat fetal position, and Sweetie Belle tucked another of the blankets around her tiny form. Then she spread out the last one—the super-soft one with the pink stripes that she liked so much—for herself.
She was just about to snuggle under the covers, when she heard a door open at the end of the hall. From the heavy hooffalls, she could tell that it was Big Macintosh, coming down the hallway from his tiny room at the end. Apparently, he was headed for the bathroom.
Sweetie Belle recalled hearing Applejack recount (with maybe a hint of jealousy?) the story of how the littlest pony in the family ended up with the biggest room, and vice-versa, how Big Mac ended up being crammed into the smallest room in the house. Originally, the tiny room had been Apple Bloom’s, but a few years ago, big brother insisted that a growing girl pony needed her own bathroom—Applejack’s room also had a small alcove with a toilet and sink—and traded places with his little sister. Sweetie Belle thought it was a really amazing thing for him to do, considering he did look a bit comical sometimes coming out of a room that wasn’t much more than a large closet.
The bathroom light was switched on, and the door closed. A minute or so later, the shower curtain was drawn, and the water was turned on in the shower, its sound merging with the rain outside. Sweetie Belle still hadn’t fully gotten back into bed yet; she was leaning up against the mattress, listening. Her imagination began to go to work, and she pictured Big Mac lathering himself up with soap—those strong arms and broad shoulders that had earlier lifted her so easily and tossed her into the outdoor washtub.
Sometimes she just couldn’t believe that the hottest young stallion in Ponyville was her best friend’s brother.
Her hoof strayed down between her legs again, and she was surprised with the urgency of the feelings she found there. After all, she had just climaxed a couple of hours ago, at most, but her little body seemed hungrier than ever.
With some excitement and a bit of trepidation, Sweetie Belle tiptoed over to the bedroom door, and turned the knob silently. She pushed the door open and peered out into the hallway. All was quiet except for the soft sounds coming out of the bathroom, and the shaft of light coming from Big Mac’s room. His door was open. She figured she probably had several minutes before he emerged from the bathroom, so she made her way down the hallway, being careful to make as little noise as possible.
Peering around the edge of the bedroom door, Sweetie Belle made sure that Big Mac wasn’t actually in his room before she entered. She took a few tentative steps and looked around. It really was a small room. The large bed took up most of the space, and the rest of his belongings and clothes were somewhat neatly stacked in two small bookcases. The only other piece of furniture was a tiny bedside table which held the lamp. Its yellowing shade cast the room in a warm glow.
Sweetie Belle had certainly looked into Big Mac’s room before, but this was the first time she had truly been in his room. Add to that the fact that it was nighttime and all of the other ponies in the house were, presumably, asleep—and she was one, excited little pony. She made her way over to the bed, which was still made, and ran her hoof over the plaid blanket. It felt like it was cotton—chosen, most likely, for its coolness in the hot summer—and it was folded over white sheets and several white pillows. Big Mac had obviously been lying on top of the covers, because Sweetie Belle could easily make out a rumpled outline on the one side of the bed. Besides, there wasn’t anywhere else to sit. There was a copy of Pony Sports Illustrated on the bed, too. It looked like it had been well-read.
Big Mac’s room had one, small window, and it was open. The sounds of the night rain and cool breeze made Sweetie Belle relax—just a little bit. She absolutely couldn’t get caught in his bedroom. Back in the hallway, she could have acted sleepy and confused, like she had gotten lost on her way to the kitchen for a glass of milk, but she doubted she could talk her way out of being in Big Mac’s room all by herself. Then something on the bedside table caught her eye.
There weren’t many things on the little table besides the lamp: a family photo (of Granny Smith, Big Mac, Applejack, and Apple Bloom) from what looked like a few years ago, a couple of books on plowing, a calendar with some planting dates and schedules marked on it, and a bracelet made of flowers.
It was the flower bracelet that had grabbed her attention. It was wilted, now, but it just had to be the one she made—when was it?—a couple of months ago, probably. It was when the Cutie Mark Crusaders had spent the whole day making things out of wildflowers. They had spent hours gathering the stalks and blooms from all corners of the farm, and passed the lazy afternoon in the clubhouse weaving colorful necklaces and bracelets and garlands and bouquets. Sweetie Belle’s best effort was a bracelet, and she had shyly presented it to Big Mac later that evening. He had put it on at the dinner table, but she had never seen him wear it since. She assumed that he had just thrown it away. Or eaten it.
But here it was, on his nightstand, next to a family photo. Sweetie Belle was floored, and realized that her mouth had been open—gaping—for some time now. She closed it. And smiled.
Without thinking, she allowed herself a dramatic swoon, and flopped face-down on Big Mac’s big bed. She easily fit within his indentation. The covers were still a little warm, and smelled heavily of the young stallion. It was nothing short of intoxicating to the little filly, and she dreamily let her hoof drift down to her inner thigh. Her tiny marehood was already wet, and she enjoyed a few delicious rubs of her swollen clitoris. Oh, heavenly hooves, this was amazing. Her head spun with desire.
And then she heard them.
Hoofsteps! In the hall. Close, and coming closer. She leapt off the bed and wiped her hoof on her flank. Who could it be? Everyone was asleep. Except for Big Mac, but he was still in the shower. Right? The sounds of running water were still coming from the bathroom, right? Or was that just the rain outside?!
She froze where she was, and waited. It was probably only a couple of seconds, but it seemed like forever. And then he was there. Big Mac. Drying his mane with a big towel. He walked into his room like a pony who didn’t expect anyone to be there, and it took him a split second to realize that one, very small unicorn was standing beside his bed, looking and acting petrified. He stopped short with a puzzled look on his face, but (not surprisingly) didn’t say anything.
Sweetie Belle opened her mouth, and searched for an explanation.
“Ummm…” was all she could come up with.
Think, Sweetie Bell, think.
“Ummm, she tried again, “I had a bad dream, and I couldn’t get back to sleep, and I saw that your light was on…” That seemed plausible, right? “…and you weren’t here, but I didn’t want to go back by myself, so I waited here for you to come back. Which you did. Come back. And here I am.” She smiled a big, cheesy smile, hoping her piecemeal explanation would suffice.
“Uh, eeyup?” said Big Mac slowly, as if he were still processing the last few seconds. The young stallion was never a pony of many words, and Sweetie Bell had learned that you could surmise a lot about what the big guy was thinking by looking into his large, green eyes. From what she could tell, his initial look of shock and surprise had been replaced with a quizzical bemusement. That figures, she thought. He probably just looked at her as his little sister’s silly friend.
“I’m sorry I came into your room without asking,” continued Sweetie Belle, “and I didn’t mean to scare you.” She paused. “Can I stay here with you? For a little while? Please?” Normally a request like this would be delivered with a syrupy pout and that whole big-eyed-cuteness thing, but she decided to play this as seriously as she could, hoping she could carry herself with some of the self-assurance that a much-older mare would most likely have. Seconds ticked by, and the little unicorn was sure that each passing moment decreased the likelihood of her getting to stay. But then the big stallion answered her with a soft chuckle.
“Eeyup,” he said sweetly, and he quietly shut the door behind him.
Sweetie Belle watched intently as Big Mac finished toweling off his mane; his sun-bleached orange hair was still damp, and looked almost brown. She realized that she was staring, and quickly pretended to be interested in a book on apple harvesting, but she was still quite aware of his every move. He gave his mane a cursory brushing, and then wrapped the towel around his waist. He came over and sat on the edge of his bed. Neither pony said anything.
She was still flipping through the book, and he was watching her. She wondered what he was thinking.
Sweetie Belle knew that she would have to be the one to break the ice. What would she talk about if he were just a friend? She had talked with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom at length about her magic lessons with Twilight Sparkle. Would he be interested in that kind of stuff?
“Umm,” she ventured, “would you like to see some of the unicorn magic that I’ve been practicing?” It sounded kind of mundane to her, but at least is was something.
“Eeyup.” said Big Mac. He sounded genuinely interested.
Sweetie Belle looked around the room for a challenging object. She settled on one of the young stallion’s barbells; it was marked 5 POUNDS. That was a bit heavier than what she had done before, but it would have to do. She took a deep breath and focused her mind. Concentrated on the barbell. Wrapped her mind around it. She gritted her teeth slightly and her horn sparked to life. The barbell glowed, too, and then lifted slowly off the ground. It wobbled a bit, but Sweetie Belle kept it steady, and managed to lift it several feet into the air before setting it back down again. She exhaled a bit theatrically, and looked at Big Mac. He appeared impressed.
“That’s really good for such a small pony.” He was nodding his head in encouragement.
“Thanks!” beamed Sweetie Belle. “I practice almost every day. Let’s see…” she looked around the room for her next trick. She spied an inkwell with a large quill over near the open window. The cool rain was still falling lightly outside, and she had an idea.
She’d open with a little bit of explanation.
“Lifting a heavy object is one thing,” she began, “but carefully controlling something lightweight requires a lot of concentration, too.” She floated the quill pen out of the inkwell and blotted the excess ink on some paper. The large feather floated in front of Big Mac’s face and hovered there.
“Now lay down on your back and close your eyes,” she instructed. The big stallion narrowed his eyes a little and shot her a questioning look. She put her hooves on her hips. “Just do it, you big sissy.” The fact that he hadn’t objected to anything yet was giving her added confidence.
Slowly, he did as he was told.
Sweetie Belle floated the feather over to his face, and tickled his muzzle lightly. Big Mac wrinkled his nose and tried to endure it, but after a few seconds, he let out a snort and a chuckle, and rubbed his snout vigorously.
“That tickles,” he mused.
“It’s supposed to, Captain Obvious. Now shush.”
She continued her feathery assault as the stallion folded his hooves on his stomach. She caressed his broad shoulders and traced his strong arms. Gosh, he really was a hunk of a pony, and he was letting—letting—her tickle him. The feather moved down to his chest and started doing small circles. Big Mac took a couple of deep breaths and exhaled with what seemed like satisfaction. Sweetie Belle was enjoying the game, too, for although she wasn’t actually touching the stallion, she was manipulating the object that was.
And through the feather, she could feel the texture of his coat, the resistance it gave, whether she was going with or against the grain of his hide. She wasn’t touching him with her hooves, but it was as if she was caressing him with her mind. Sweet Celestia, did he feel good. Did she feel good!
Sweetie Belle must have lost her wits for a little while, for the next thing she knew, she was on top of the big stallion, hugging his neck and peppering his muzzle with kisses. He was warm and clean and smelled wonderful. She felt safe, but excited. Really excited!
Despite her best efforts to cling to his chest, Sweetie Belle found herself easily lifted into the air. Big Mac held the young filly at arm’s length and looked up at her with alarm.
Sweetie Belle realized that she had gone way, way, too far, and hung dejectedly in the big stallion’s grasp. How could she have been so stupid? She had never felt so small and powerless, and all of her feelings just started pouring out.
“Oh, Big Mac, I’m sorry. I know I’m just a filly and I don’t even have my cutie mark yet but I will soon and I think about you all the time. It’s just that you’re so strong and you’re really nice and I just wanted to be closer to you. That’s why I snuck into your room while I thought you were in the shower and climbed on your bed and it was warm and it smelled like you and I just got so, so…”
She didn’t dare explain any further. She felt drained and empty, and waited for the inevitable.
But now it was her turn to be surprised. Instead of being set down and dismissed, the little unicorn found herself being returned to her place on the big stallion’s chest, and she searched his face for an explanation. He was grinning a wide grin at her.
“Did you see?” he glanced over to the bedside table. “I kept the bracelet you gave me.”
She managed a hesitant smile and nodded. “I thought you must have eaten it.”
He laughed pretty hard at that. “Nnnope. I kept it because the flowers were white and pink and purple. Just like you.”
Sweetie Belle looked again at the bracelet she had made. Its tiny blossoms were mostly white and had accents of pink and lavender. She hadn’t noticed the resemblance to the colors of her coat and mane before. Mac’s heart-felt sentiment lifted her spirits significantly. She had never heard sweeter words.
With a slightly dreamy look in her eyes, she looked back at the stallion. He was smiling and looking at her—his eyes moving quickly, as if he were examining every feature of the small unicorn in his arms. She hoped he liked what he saw. Slowly this time, she leaned in to kiss his muzzle. And this time, he returned the embrace.
She pulled herself up higher on his chest so that she could kiss him up high on his cheek, and his kisses covered her neck and shoulders. Despite his large hooves, he tenderly caressed her sides and soft flanks, and Sweetie Belle could hardly contain herself. Between rapid breaths, she huffed words of love and encouragement in the big stallion’s ear, and used her hooves to push his hooves further and further down her body. To the back of her flanks. To her haunches. To her inner thighs. Under her tail.
Her heavy, shallow breathing gave way to small moans and sighs of pleasure. Words were no longer necessary, and the little filly was concentrating on the rhythm they were creating—grinding her hips in time with his gentle hooves. She had never felt such ecstasy.
Without warning, she found herself momentarily lifted and twirled, and then was set back down on the stallion’s chest facing the other way. Her tail smooshed up against Big Mac’s nose, as he placed her back legs around his neck. Her back hooves landed softly on his pillow. She looked back for a second with a questioning look on her face, but she quickly figured it out. She smiled a coy smile, narrowed her eyes knowingly, and slowly—dramatically, with a little flourish—lifted her tail. She knew that her delicate marehood would be inches in front of his muzzle.
Sweetie Belle didn’t have to wait long; Big Mac began licking her haunches and inner thighs—his big tongue performing surprisingly intricate moves, and the little unicorn snuggled in to her lover’s stomach with a gigantic sigh. She felt utterly vulnerable and yet completely protected—a strange duality that somehow made a lot of sense. The stallion’s tongue found its mark, and the resulting shockwave of pleasure caused Sweetie Belle to collapse even further. She grasped at hooffulls of his downy undercoat, and gulped lungfulls of his clean, musky scent. Her head lolled to one side and spun wildly as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over her. His tongue explored every, delicate fold of her sex, and did tiny loops around her clitoris. Sometimes he would make his tongue rigid and push it up into her marehood, and Sweetie Belle would rock her hips back and forth to add to the effect. She was afraid that her whole body was going to explode in a shower of pink sparks like her horn did when she climaxed. Oh yeah, about that…
“Hey,” she turned her head back to Big Mac,
“Don’t be. Scared,” she panted heavily,
“My horn. Sparks. When I. Cum.”
And right on cue, her tiny horn began glowing a pale pink color. She was getting close. The stallion nodded in acknowledgement, but didn’t pause from his licking. She saw that his muzzle was wet and his eyes were fixed on his work.
She turned back and closed her eyes. The stallion’s penetrating, probing tongue was taking her higher and higher. The little unicorn had climaxed dozens of times before, and had even had a couple that she had thought were rather amazing, but they were all paling in comparison to the ecstasy that she was experiencing at that moment, and she wasn’t even done yet. She couldn’t imagine that she could possibly feel any better, and then another bolt of pleasure would come along and push her even higher.
The little filly could feel her muscles start to clench, and then she felt like she was flying and falling and crashing and soaring. She buried her face in Big Mac’s stomach to muffle her cries, and her horn flared brightly. She felt it spark—explode, really—and the release of magic energy added to her physical release was almost too much. Sweetie Belle clung tenuously to consciousness for a few seconds before her senses began returning to her. She started to breathe a bit slower as the contractions were tailing off. So that’s what all the fuss was about!
Wordlessly, Big Mac gently lifted the little filly and turned her around so that she could snuggle into his neck, and Sweetie Belle found herself drifting off into a hazy, exhausted, and satisfied sleep. She managed to mumble an inquiry about her orgasmic light display.
“Did you see the heart?”
“There were two hearts,” informed her quiet, deep-voiced lover. “The sparks rose all the way to the ceiling and formed into a big, red heart around a smaller, white one. Then a pink arrow formed and shot through them both. It was beautiful.”
Sweetie Belle felt herself being roused from a deep, wonderful sleep. Somepony was nuzzling her snout, and a sonorous voice was calling her name. She opened one eye and it slowly focused on Big Mac’s face. He was looking at her tenderly and smiling.
“Hey there, sleepyhead,” cajoled the big stallion. He lightly kissed her on the nose.
“Mmmmh,” cooed the little unicorn, in tones that conveyed that she was content, and didn’t want to be disturbed further. She rolled over in his arms and snuggled in. The rain outside had stopped, and now the only sound coming from the window was the clamorous singing of crickets and frogs.
Big Mac gently shook her by the shoulders. “You should go.”
“Mm. Wanna stay,” she countered.
But the stallion’s voice was firm. “I know. I want you to stay, too. But you should go. You don’t want your friends to miss you.” He escalated his rousing tactics and began tickling her sides.
Sweetie Belle giggled and rubbed her eyes. She gazed into Big Mac’s huge, green eyes, and grinned. She had never been happier, and she wished that she could remain right there, in his arms, forever and ever.
He allowed the moment to linger for a bit, and then gingerly lifted her into the air. He kissed her on the forehead, right below her horn, before setting her down on the floor. He gave her flank a nudge, pushing her slightly toward the door.
The little unicorn covered the short distance with a reluctance that bordered on theatrical. She paused at the threshold, and turned back with a pleading look and a small pout. Big Mac smiled sadly and shook his head. But then she had an idea.
“Next time Apple Bloom has a sleepover,” she paused in the hopes that the stallion would come to the same conclusion as her, “you’ll wait up for me, won’t you?”
“Eeyup,” he said. And his eyes said that it was a promise.
With that, Sweetie Belle slipped out of his room and back down the hall. She wasn’t sure how long she had been gone, but she guessed that it had been an hour or more. She was relieved to see that her friends were sleeping soundly—hopefully, her absence hadn’t even been noticed.
She took the opportunity to use the little filly’s room and drink a glass of water before heading back to join the others. She stopped and unplugged the white, holiday lights. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the near-darkness, and she tried not to disturb her friends as she climbed into bed and got comfortable under her blanket, but Apple Bloom stirred and looked at her.
“Did you get the blankets out for us?” she inquired with a yawn.
“Mm-hmm,” confirmed Sweetie Belle, and snuggled in next to her friend.
“Thanks,” Apple Bloom murmured. She opened her eyes again and looked at Sweetie Belle. “Ah had this weird dream that you were chasing Big Mac and trying to kiss him…”
The little unicorn panicked for a split second, fearful that her friend was making a clever, disguised accusation, but quickly realized that Apple Bloom was only talking on the edge of sleep, and didn’t mean anything by it.
“Yeah, that is weird,” coughed Sweetie Belle, playing along. “Your brother is pretty hot, though.”
Her needling had the desired effect, and Apple Bloom groaned and rolled over. She mumbled something involving “brother” and “ain’t”.
Sweetie Belle smiled to herself in the dark and stared up at the canopy over the big, four-poster bed. The crickets outside continued their singing as the minutes passed. Had she really just done all that? With Big Mac? The pony of her dreams? Surely it had been just that—a dream. An amazing, wonderful, spectacular dream. She looked at her hooves and tried to imagine them clutching at his chest. It had certainly felt real. Then she rubbed her nose, and she realized that her hooves still smelled like—him!
And with a happy heart, Sweetie Belle sighed and closed her eyes. He had said he would wait for her. Next time. There would be a next time. She drifted off to sleep trying to think of ways that she could persuade Apple Bloom to host another sleepover as soon as possible.
Big Mac had turned off his light, but his mind was racing too much to even think about sleeping. Had he really just done all that? With Sweetie Belle? His little, little sister’s friend? Of course, he knew he had—after all, he could still smell her and taste her—but she had wanted it, too, right?
The young stallion replayed the events several times, and kept coming to the reassuring conclusion that at each pause, at every junction, it had been the little unicorn who had taken the initiative. She had jumped on him and kissed him; she admitted to having feelings for him; she had pushed his hooves down to her haunches and below. She had even alluded to clopping.
But he was old enough to know better, and although there weren’t any hard-and-fast age rules regarding pony partners, he didn’t think most ponyfolk would condone such an age difference between him and Sweetie Belle. Gosh, how young was she? She didn’t even have her cutie mark, for Celestia’s sake!
There wasn’t any doubt, however, that he loved the little unicorn—though until that night, he wouldn’t have admitted to himself how much he cared for her. He knew, for instance, that he had taken an extra few seconds to frolic with Sweetie Belle before throwing her in the tub, while the other two fillies had hardly even registered on his radar.
Of course, he never would have dared to initiate anything sexual with her; he frankly didn’t think that little fillies worked like that. But there she had been. Bang. Right in his room. Waiting for him. Thinking about him. Maybe even touching herself on his bed. As wet as she was, she probably had been.
Upon reflection, he was sort of surprised that he had never even taken off the towel from around his waist. Maybe that was a good thing. He knew that his member was larger than most; the mares at school used to gossip about “Big” Big Macintosh, and most of the stallions admitted that he was aptly named for both his physical stature and his package size.
Besides, with Sweetie Belle, there just wasn’t any way that his giant dick would—well—fit. Not until she had grown considerably, anyway. They would just have to find other ways to enjoy each other, like they had that night. Though he had been hard throughout most of their love-making, he had somehow put his needs aside and just concentrated on hers. He had been so in tune with her little body that he had shared in her orgasm on sort of a spiritual level.
And it had been a fulfilling experience, there was no doubting that. He had enjoyed it immensely, and there was absolutely no way that a little filly like that could fake such an intense orgasm. She had shaken so violently that he was almost afraid. He was especially blown away by the fireworks at the end. Having never been with a unicorn before—there had been three earth ponies like himself and one pegasus, if anypony was keeping score—he wondered if they all did something like that or if she was just special in that regard.
He thought back to the days when he was just a colt with a blank flank. Sure, he had played some harmless games of “Look Up My Tail” with cousins and friends in the barns, and there was that one time that he and Cheerilee went to the swimming hole by themselves and fooled around a little bit, but he had never done anything as serious as what Sweetie Belle had just done.
Big Mac replayed his favorite moment from their encounter over and over again. The grown-up way she had looked back at him over her shoulder and lifted her tail—yikes—that was just stunning. And what she revealed was astonishing, too. Her tiny marehood had been pink and perfect and dripping wet. He could still feel the heat coming off her flanks, and he could taste the tangy juice from her little lips. He loved the way she squirmed every time he circled her clit, and then jumped when he flicked it with the tip of his tongue.
He promised himself, that no matter what, as long as he needed to, he would always be gentle and tender and let her call the shots, and he hoped they would continue being lovers as she matured.
His hard-on was pretty insistent now, and he knew that he’d have to take care of it before getting any sleep. He flung the damp towel to the floor and grabbed his bottle of hoof lotion and a box of tissues.
It didn’t take long to realize that the night’s action had gotten him pretty riled up. His cheeks were still hot and flushed, and each stroke on his long shaft brought him intense pleasure. The fact that he was picturing Sweetie Belle’s tiny twat waggling in his face helped.
He pictured a not-too-distant future in which his little unicorn had become a beautiful young mare, and they wouldn’t have to resort to clandestine meetings. She’d be all grown up, and a more proper size, and a slightly more acceptable age, and drop-dead sexy, and maybe he’d be lucky enough to still be with her. He let out a snort and bit his lower lip as his body started to tense up. Hopefully one day, uhh, maybe someday, mmh, he would get to really hit that, ahh, he’d grab that little mare and buck her so, mmahh, buck her so hah…
He ejaculated with such force that the first glob hit the headboard behind him, although most of the rest landed nicely on the tissues on his stomach. He collapsed back onto the bed and caught his breath. He let out a sputter of satisfaction, and tried to recall if he’d ever shot his wad that far before.
After cleaning up and putting his clopping supplies away, Big Mac rolled over and closed his eyes. He thought about the little unicorn who was probably—hopefully—sleeping just a few doors down the hall, and he smiled. She had asked if he would wait for her. Next time. There would be a next time. He drifted off to sleep trying to think of ways that he could persuade Apple Bloom to host another sleepover as soon as possible.
