Rarity and Fluttershy have found love in each other, and after a wonderful date, they're ready to consummate in the most intimate way. Or rather, one of them is.
Rarity and Fluttershy have found love in each other, and after a wonderful date, they're ready to consummate in the most intimate way. Or rather, one of them is.
Third in the Flarity "L" Series. Listen > Language > Lust (NSFW) Chapters marked with an "ˣ" contain explicit sexual content.
A bit of scratching in my left ear. I feel a rhythm of sharp pricks make its way across my chest, then I feel that same scratch in my other ear. The pricks reverse their journey a moment later, and once again, the scratch in my left.
A few more treks across my chest later, I reluctantly open my eyes. Though they are still clouded and out-of-focus, I can make out that while the shades are closed, the modicum of light coming through the windows tells me that it is early morning. I let out a luxurious yawn and blink a few times to clear the rest of the sleep from my eyes.
When I open my eyes again, I can clearly see the bird in front of me who woke me up. He's sitting on my breastbone now: a small green bird with a rather effective set of pony-waking claws and ear-scratching beak. I smile drowsily and whisper quietly, "Thank you, Ellipsis." He bobs his head and hops up and down a few times in response.
Given that I've been sleeping here more and more often, it's nice to know that the animals here have gotten used to me and respect my preferences. I've learned to appreciate the sanctity of sound like a certain other pony over the past year-and-a-bit, and I like maintaining some level of quiet so that I can hear them, even in the mornings. Especially in the mornings. My alarm clock has been retired for a long time now, but it seems I've found a new one. Perhaps when I return to the Boutique, I'll bring Ellipsis with me.
I roll over slowly in the bed, forcing Ellipsis to take to the air and loose a flurry of wingbeats to avoid getting squashed. As the pony beside me comes into view, I smile. It's a sight I've seen dozens of times before, but I enjoy it each and every time. Fluttershy is sleeping soundly, her soft breaths in and out making a gentle, warm breeze that tickles my coat.
Fluttershy and I are in something of an "official" romantic relationship now, and every day with her has been an absolute joy. Ever since she introduced me to the wonders of meditation, we've been growing closer than we ever had before. But about two months ago, I discovered her romantic feelings for me by accident.
It was a horrible week for the two of us when I isolated myself from Fluttershy to assess my own feelings. There was sadness, anguish, and pain pervasive the day we reunited . . . but it did have a happy ending. Our relationship is a complicated one, and it has been through a lot, but at the very least, I can finally put a proper word to it now: love.
I love you, Fluttershy.
I smile for a few more moments, reminiscing on the memories before setting my eyes on Fluttershy again, who is still sleeping peacefully. I take a good, long look at her beauty. She has such a voluminous flowing mane, and she has that slender, well-proportioned figure that even professional models strive for. She has long, graceful, and soft wings, and of course, there are her well-shaped haunches that trace a line down to her lithe and muscular legs . . .
I blink twice, getting bored. I opt to wake Fluttershy up.
Yes, her beauty is one I can acknowledge and respect, but it's not really one that I can love, in the same way that I can't love it in Fleur de Lis, or Sapphire Shores, or any other mare. No, it's the unlimited kindness, empathy, and compassion in Fluttershy's heart that captured my own.
By definition, I am a heterosexual that ironically loves a mare. Our relationship is a complicated one.
Shaking off those thoughts, I nudge Fluttershy gently with my nose, hoping to wake her up silently. I breathe lightly and take in her characteristic scent of crushed pine needles, a bouquet that always hangs around her and can only be had by living next to nature for years on end. It’s a subtle but pleasant scent that no perfume in the world could replicate. I dig my nose a little deeper into Fluttershy’s chest.
I continue to nuzzle until she wrinkles her snout and frowns just slightly. She groans lightly and brings a hoof to rub at her eyes. Her mouth opens wide as she yawns big and slow. When she closes her mouth and takes away her hooves, I finally get to see her soulful cyan eyes.
I greet Fluttershy with a smile as I do every day I sleep at her home. "Good morning, sweetheart," I whisper to her. I kiss her gently on the cheek.
Fluttershy yawns and rubs her eyes again. She returns my smile with a lovely one of her own and whispers back, "Good morning, Rarity." She opens her hooves in an invitation for a hug.
Accepting it, I wriggle closer to her. Once I'm within her grasp, she closes her hooves and wings around me. She nuzzles her cheek into my neck and takes a deep breath through my mane. I use specialty unscented shampoos nowadays; Fluttershy doesn't like artificial odorants. I reciprocate the hug as best I can, bringing my hooves around her midsection to hug it tenderly. I give Fluttershy another light peck on the neck, breathing the pine needles in her mane.
We stay there for several minutes, simply enjoying each other's presence. Fluttershy's breaths tickle the side of my neck, warm and moist. Her hooves press into my back, massaging the muscles there in little circles. Her wing lies above me, and even on this summer day, I can appreciate the warmth that it lends: soft, downy, and covered with love. I would take her wing over any blanket on any day. Her chest is pressed against my own, and our hearts seem to beat in time with each other’s, both marching to the same tempo of mutual affection.
Just because her beauty is not exceptionally alluring to me does not mean I don't enjoy her hugs and kisses. All of us six friends share hugs on occasion, but the ones I share with Fluttershy mean so much more. They speak of an emotional connection so special that I've not made it with any other pony. Fluttershy is a decent kisser, but she is a marvelous hugger. Even before we found love in each other, I've always found that I enjoyed Fluttershy's hugs like nothing else.
Eventually, Fluttershy breaks the hug, and I reluctantly do the same. She says quietly, "I'll go make breakfast, okay?" Fluttershy pecks me once on the cheek before rolling away from me, off the bed. "Come down when you're ready." With that, she silently pads out of the room.
I stay motionless on the bed for a time, staring at the door. Without Fluttershy in the room with me, it feels lonely. It doesn't take long for me to decide to wake up properly and finally get off the bed. After stretching to banish the rest of the drowsiness from my body, I deftly fold up Fluttershy's blankets with my magic and place them at the foot of her bed neatly. Hers is a bit smaller than mine, and it could fit two ponies only if they were rather friendly . . . but of course, she and I have absolutely no qualms with this arrangement.
I head to Fluttershy's bathroom and wash my face with cold water. I open my mobile makeup kit—though, given that it has a near-permanent home on Fluttershy’s bathroom counter, it’s not really "mobile" anymore. I only put on a light coat of facial powder and eyeshadow this morning; with the plans we have for this evening, I'll have to reapply it later, anyway. I close my eyes and put on my eyelashes with a bit of magic. Taking a hairbrush in my aura, I run it through my mane and tail, removing the knots and minor tangles that formed during the night. Though there is perfume among my spread of makeup, I opt not to put it on, as I have done since Fluttershy and I have gotten together. I give myself a final inspection: tail, fetlocks, eyes, cheeks, mane? Nodding in affirmation, I put away the makeup and exit the bathroom.
Before heading downstairs, I go back to the bedroom to retrieve one more item, lest I forget it before I leave. On the bedside table, lying on top of Fluttershy's own pendant that I gave her some time ago, I see my own piece. It is not the most extravagant or expensive piece of jewelry I own, but the moment that Fluttershy gave it to me, it became my most precious. As I reach out my hoof to touch it, I think back to the day she gave it to me:
"A visit to the spa is such a fantastic way to prepare for one's birthday; wouldn't you agree?" I ask, relaxing back into the tub.
"Oh, yes," Fluttershy replies, snuggling up next to me and resting her head on my shoulder. "Twilight's having your birthday party in her castle, right?" Her eyes are closed, and there’s a serene smile on her face.
"Mhm. Pinkie Pie wanted to invite the entirety of Ponyville to my party, but I think, for a day as personal as today, we don't need all of them. After all, I have my friends—" I kiss Fluttershy on the forehead "—and my very special somepony."
"Mmm . . ." Fluttershy’s moans blissfully and leans into me a bit more. "I love you too, Rarity." She idly kisses me back on the cheek.
I shake my head and smile deviously. "Oh come now, sweetheart; I'm sure you want more of—" I take Fluttershy's face in my hooves and kiss her fully on the lips. "—this, right?"
Fluttershy’s eyes snap open in surprise. When I release her, I see the silly grin and burning blush that have grown on her face. That answers my question.
I chuckle into a hoof before climbing out of the tub and saying, "Come, darling. Let us not be late for my own birthday party. There will be plenty of time for kissing afterwards." I reach my hooves down to help Fluttershy out of the tub. Once she’s out, I retrieve my bathrobe and turn to walk to the reception desk. Noticing that she’s not following me, I look back, only to see her at her saddlebags apparently digging around for something. "Er, Fluttershy," I say, "there's no need to take out your own bits. I'm paying, remember?"
Fluttershy doesn’t respond and continues to search in her bags. Quirking an eyebrow, I walk closer to her. "Fluttershy?”
She emerges a moment later with a small box in her mouth. She places it on the ground in front of me. "Um, my gift is kind of special, and I wanted to give it to you first," she says, crossing and uncrossing her forehooves and shyly pushing the box closer to me. "Happy birthday, Rarity. I love you."
"Oh, you shouldn't have!" I exclaim. "Your love is gift enough for me. But thank you very much, Fluttershy. I love you too," I say, lighting my horn to open the box. I gasp and bring a hoof to my mouth when I see inside of it an almost-familiar sight.
Inside of the box is a near-spitting image of Fluttershy's own pendant. Same design, same golden chain, same platinum head. The only difference is the pink beryl morganite that crowns the necklace, contrasting with the diamond that accents Fluttershy's own. It’s of a rather unique tetralobular cut, making the gem appear almost like a pair of butterfly wings. More than the pendant itself, though, is what it represents.
I raise my head and lower my hoof slowly. I look to Fluttershy, my eyes wide and my jaw agape. "F-Fluttershy, you couldn't have . . ."
She nods and smiles, another pink blush blooming on her face. "I did. I had Twilight and Princess Cadance help me with the enchantment. After the gift you gave me, I had to make you one just as special, too."
Slowly, the shock on my face wears off and is replaced with a warm and appreciative and slightly misty-eyed smile. I lean forward to give Fluttershy a long hug. When I release from her, I slowly reach out my hoof to touch the gem on the pendant . . .
A wash of new sound comes over me: the rhythmic thump of my own heart, the squirrels scratching on the floor downstairs, the chirps of birds half a mile away . . . Tenfold enhanced hearing most definitely broadens one's horizons, and I have Fluttershy to thank for the gift. With the nigh-identical pendants we both have now, we are—quite literally—a matched pair. More than the jewelry, more than the enchantment, that was the most wonderful gift that Fluttershy gave me that day.
With my hooves, I pick up the pendant and clasp it around my neck. I sit down, close my eyes, and smile, losing myself momentarily to the new universe of sounds that has opened up to me. Since I've declared my love for Fluttershy, our meditation sessions together have not only become more intimate, but also more enlightening. It is incredible how much one can glean from sounds that come from—
"Rarity?"
"Gah!" My eyes snap back open as I hear a sound I wasn't expecting to hear. I look behind me and see Fluttershy there, looking concerned. How did she even make it up here without me noticing? I should have heard her hoofsteps or wingbeats at the very least.
"Are you alright?" she asks, putting a hoof on my shoulder. "What were you doing?"
I shake off the thoughts. Turning around to face her, I say, "Nothing important. Just thinking about you, I suppose." I smile wryly to myself. "And how much I love you."
"Oh!" Fluttershy puts a hoof to her mouth and laughs a little, her giggles sounding with the pure, virgin tones of an ocarina. Another beautiful sound. "Well, breakfast is ready now. We should go eat," she says, padding off silently—silently!—out of the room and down the stairs.
I stay motionless for a few seconds, putting a hoof to my pendant. Somehow, Fluttershy knows how to walk so quietly that I can't hear her even with enhanced senses. I step forward to follow after her, wincing at the sharp, loud sounds my hooves make as they impact the hardwood floor. Over the years, I have learned a model's walk, but it seems that even that is no comparison to Fluttershy's twinkle-hooved gait.
I make it down the stairs and to the living room. Very rarely does another pony outshine me in elegance, but Fluttershy's hoofsteps make mine seem positively brutish. I blunt my hoofsteps with a discreet bit of magic, making a mental note to ask Fluttershy about how she walks at some point. Sweetheart, you shock me more every day.
I sit down on a cushion in front of the low table where Fluttershy's breakfast lays. She's prepared two bowls of cinnamon oatmeal and—of course—two cups of chamomile. Fluttershy sits down on the cushion next to me. I smile to her and say, "Thank you, sweetheart." She smiles back to me, and we begin to eat.
Porcelain-on-porcelain sounds as we pick up our utensils: I with magic, she with a delicate wingtip feather. I spoon a bit of the oatmeal into my mouth. Bland, but not overly so; the cinnamon provides a bit of zest to the porridge. I sigh in contentment and lean on Fluttershy's side. Exactly how I like it.
"So," I start, "are you excited for our first real date?"
Fluttershy puts her teacup down. "Oh, yes. B-but a little bit nervous." Fluttershy flicks her eyes down then looks back at me. "How big is the restaurant going to be, Rarity? I'll be wearing a dress, and . . ." Fluttershy shuffles a little closer to me. "I don't want everypony looking at me." She looks down and shivers a little.
I take my head from Fluttershy's side and shake my head from side to side. "No; La Sorellanza is an exclusive formal Italian restaurant, but it's not too large, and I think you'll like the atmosphere. I would have reserved a private table for the two of us, but alas, they have no private tables." I hide a frown before looking at Fluttershy again and smiling. "Fear not, sweetheart. I've informed the restaurant staff that a guest gentle and shy as a skylark will be coming this evening and that they will have to answer to me and my upholstery contract with them should you not enjoy yourself." I nuzzle Fluttershy gently under the chin. "And I will be there the entire time with you. You have nothing to worry about."
Fluttershy's mouth curls into a small "o" before she leans into me and extends a wing to wrap me with. She closes her eyes and murmurs, "You didn't have to do all that for me."
"Of course I did, sweetheart," I say without hesitation, leaning back into her and snuggling into her soft downy wing. "You are more than worth it. Our last few months together have been incredible, and I will have nothing less than an incredible date with you as well."
"They have been incredible, haven’t they?" Fluttershy whispers in that soft voice of hers. She brings a hoof under her wing and massages my back lightly with it. I purr in response. "And I've loved every moment of it," she breathes. "Do you remember a couple weeks ago, when . . ."
My eyes drift closed, brought into relaxation by Fluttershy's soothing sounds. It will be a splendid day when I can fall asleep, just like this, in your arms. Your light and nearly silent breathing reveals a shy and demure mare, but the incessant and strong beat of your heart underlays unbreakable strength. Your voice is so polite, so considerate, so . . . beautiful. I woke up not but a few minutes ago, but the combination of your breath, your voice, and your heartbeat is doing its very best to lull me to sleep once again . . .
"Rarity? Did you hear me?"
"Hmm?" I open my eyes and stare at Fluttershy dreamily. I blink a few times before regaining my senses. Fluttershy is looking at me worriedly. She's stopped stroking my back, and her wing is folded back into her side. I sit up straight and shake my head vigorously. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I suppose I just lost myself for a moment." I smile, a little embarrassed. "You have that effect on me sometimes. Could you, pray, repeat what you just said?"
Fluttershy only smiles and puts her wing over my back once again. "I asked you what you were going to wear for our date."
I happily snuggle back into Fluttershy’s wing, nudging it on to my shoulders like a cloak. "Ah, well, this is our first one, so I had to make something custom for just this occasion. My dress is . . ." I trail off and look at Fluttershy. I grin conspiratorially. "You know what? How about we just surprise each other tonight? I don't know what you're going to wear either, mind. Think about how exciting it will be when we see each other for the first time, bedecked in dresses that will stun the world! So romantic!" I put a hoof to my forehead and mock-swoon.
"Um . . . yes?" Fluttershy says, looking a bit perplexed.
I pull back the dramatics and shake my head once again. "Sorry. I just think you should see the dress for the first time with your own eyes. I want to impress you my outfit, and I am sure you will do the same with me." I look back to our breakfast, half eaten. "So how about we finish breakfast here, and I go back home so we can both prepare for our date? We will rendezvous at La Sorellanza, say, half an hour before sundown?"
The sun is nearing the edge of the horizon, and it is lighting the world with a moderate orange glow. The birds are silent, the breeze nearly so, but the bustle of ponies talking and eating behind me is somewhat loud. I elected to come a little earlier than our agreed-upon time. Yes, being "fashionably late" is something that I do at times, but only for large social gatherings, not for dates with a very special somepony.
I watch the road leading to the restaurant. Fluttershy should be turning the corner soon. She's never been late for an appointment before, and I don't expect her to start now. I check my wardrobe in the meantime, ensuring everything is ready for Fluttershy's impending arrival.
Given that we've known each other for a long time, she's somewhat inured to what I am capable of making, so it would take something especially unique to impress her. I had to be quite adventurous with this design, and I anguished over its details for weeks, but I think I now have something to my—and her—liking. I don't just want her applauding politely at my wardrobe tonight, as she does with everything I make; I want to stun her speechless.
Eventually, finally, Fluttershy appears from behind the house on the corner, exactly on time. Her eyes are fixed on the restaurant behind me, a look of slight apprehension on her face. Her eyes flick to and from the ponies eating there, but they haven’t landed on me . . . yet.
"Good evening, sweetheart," I say quietly.
Fluttershy turns her eyes to me for the first time. She gasps and staggers back a few steps, eyes wide. I chuckle into a hoof and stalk a little closer to her. When I'm mere feet away from Fluttershy, I put on an amused smile and walk in a circle around her, slowly. All the while, the weight of her eyes never leaves my body.
I can't really blame her, now can I? I made this dress specifically to draw her attention, after all. Though I don't quite understand mare-to-mare attraction, I have no misgivings about dressing up for another mare's benefit if it pleases her. And judging by Fluttershy's open mouth and unblinking gaze, I think it pleases her very much.
The dress itself is rather tight-fitting and form-hugging, and it shows off the assets I'm not afraid to acknowledge that I have. Every shape, from shoulders to haunches, is well-defined and cuts through the dress. Lace accents hang off my sides, occasionally fluttering in the soft breeze. On top of the dress, I wear a light and lacy pink saddle. A pair of low-hanging diamond earrings scintillate in the light as I trod around Fluttershy. I wear golden slippers so my hooves aren't dirtied by the grime on the ground.
Though I left my tail and forelock curled, I let down my mane, revealing its considerable natural length. Few ponies know I have the means to maintain hock-length hair, but I'm showing it now. My mane drapes down from behind my neck to below my chest, curling just slightly at the ends across my midline so that it doesn't drag on the ground. I've even weaved a few dahlias into it.
To augment the outfit, I added one more—rather avant garde—accessory to it. On my face is a custom-fitted pink lace bitless bridle attached to a pair of braided show-reins. It's very light and doesn't detriment my ability to eat or speak, though. Bridles are more of a niche accessory now, like tiaras, but they can still be quite alluring to those who like those things. And I think Fluttershy is one of those ponies, given that she hasn't stopped staring at me for five minutes now.
I have no doubt that my dress will attract some romantic attention from stallions and perhaps even other mares. But should any of them ask for my attention, I shall direct them to the final piece of my outfit that shows that I am no longer "on the market," so to speak, and that my heart belongs to one and one alone: The pendant that hangs about my neck.
I stop in front of Fluttershy again and step closer to her. She gasps sharply as I put a gold-clad hoof on her cheek and direct her face to mine. The sound of her shaky breaths, swishing tail, and thumping heart all tell me that she is rather hot and bothered right now. "This is our first real romantic date together, sweetheart, so I wanted to come up with something to impress you tonight," I say quietly. I put down my hoof and put my muzzle directly against Fluttershy's ear, letting the lace of the bridle brush against her face. "Are you impressed?" I whisper.
"Y-y-yes . . ." Fluttershy squeaks out. Her eyes are still wide and unblinking. "Y-you're so pretty, Rarity. So pretty, so gorgeous, so . . . so . . ." Her last word comes out in a breathy whisper: "S-sexy."
I smile. "I'm glad you think so. But have a look at yourself, sweetheart. You are quite beautiful as well." I say this with no irony or sycophantic attempt to please. I am a fashionista who has studied beauty nearly all her life, and I am certain that Fluttershy would place in the upper echelons of any beauty contest in Equestria with the dress she is wearing now.
Her dress is simpler than mine is, but no less elegant. It seems to be made of a blue sheer silk with white accents that's incredibly thin and partially translucent. I've worked with silk many times before, but never one of this caliber. It winds around her chest and wings like a Neighponese kimono. Behind her is a long, floating train made of that same ethereal silk, though it never even touches the ground. Rather, it seems to float almost magically in the soft breeze not unlike Princess Celestia's own mane.
On her hooves is a quartet of elegant silver shoes, and adorning the front of each one is a small aquamarine. The iridescent gems shimmer and seem to reflect the color in Fluttershy's liquid blue eyes. But of the two, there is one I'm much more likely to get lost in.
On her head is a laurel wreath: not the average accoutrement that one would add to complement their ensemble, but Fluttershy wears it well. The vegetation on her head is very real, and the weave is so intricate that it looks like the laurels had grown naturally to fit her crown. Only a master of nature—like Fluttershy herself—could have made it.
Weaved into the wreath is a pair of long albatross feathers, curled and blued at the ends. They float and play whenever a breeze goes by, and they twist and bow every time Fluttershy moves. The combination of her floating train and fluttering feathers means that with even the near-imperceptible breeze passing by, Fluttershy appears to be in constant motion.
Her wardrobe is undeniably beautiful, but the most beautiful part of her that I see is sitting on her breast. Fluttershy may be a lovely little vixen, but the marquise diamond pendant on her breast shows me that she is my lovely little vixen.
I playfully bat at her pendant and say, "A beautiful specimen you are. Absolutely wonderful. You're all mine." I walk up to her slowly and move my lips closer to hers, cueing my next action to Fluttershy. "And I'm all yours," I finish in a whisper. We join in a gentle but passionate kiss and hold it for a long time. I can't imagine how jealous a stallion would be if he saw us now: two breathtaking mares taking each other's breath away.
We separate slowly. A dreamy smile is on Fluttershy's face, and her eyes are still dazed. Whether it's because of the kiss we shared or my wardrobe, I don't know. But Fluttershy's happiness is my own, and I am quite happy that she is enjoying herself right now. And the date proper hasn't even started yet.
"Come," I say, guiding her with a hoof to the front door of the restaurant, "let us make our grand appearance."
"Oh-k-kay . . ." she says. We walk forward, our sides touching, but Fluttershy keeps her eyes fixed on me. There's an obvious quaver in her voice, a rather obvious tell that shows me that she's still star-struck. It is only when we open the front doors and step inside the restaurant that Fluttershy takes her eyes off me and takes in the restaurant instead.
It's lit dimly with orange bulbs, as many restaurants are wont to do, but what makes the atmosphere of La Sorellanza different is the foliage. Nearly every restaurant I've been to, even the high-class Canterlotian ones, is decorated with tasteless art pieces and awful memorabilia significant to no one except the owner. This restaurant, however, is augmented with potted plants of all varieties. Small saplings, bushes, grasses—it's like the entire restaurant is alive. There are even a few tomato bushes strewn about, which, as I am told, are used to serve the guests.
The rest of the restaurant is quite well accoutered as well. The ivory window curtains are ample and decorated with gold trim and green embroidery that winds itself around the fabric in an understated floral design. The pale celadon tablecloths are similarly augmented with the same winding green floral motif. They feel like suede but are tremendously easy to clean. I would know; I made them!
In front of us is a most impressive display. Standing in front of a small lectern is the maître d', a handsome young stallion dressed in a brown suit. Behind him a large living wall of greenery, complete with ivy, vines, and a miniature waterfall.
"Buona sera—good evening, ladies, and welcome to La Sorellanza," the stallion in front of the lectern says with a charming smile. "Do you have a reservation with us?"
"Indeed, Fresco, I do," I say, stepping up closer to the lectern. I sneak a glance at the booking schedule laying on it, and I see a number of red stars and comments like "VVVIPs" or "special guest!" around one particular block. I smile. "For Rarity and Fluttershy," I finish.
Instantly, Fresco straightens up. "Lady Rarity! Oh my goodness, a thousand pardons, signora, I didn't recognize you at first! May I say that the two of you are—" He clears his throat "—quite dashing tonight."
"Th-thank you," Fluttershy mumbles. She presses her body closer to mine and averts her eyes.
"Ah." Fresco comes out from behind the lectern and sits down in front of Fluttershy, waiting for her to look up at him again. "Apologies are due, signora, if I made you uncomfortable, but I am simply stating the facts in my eyes. In any case, Lady Fluttershy, you needn't fear the comments of our other patrons tonight. If any of them give you trouble, just call me, or have Lady Rarity call me, and I shall handle it at once."
Fluttershy eventually raises her head and looks at Fresco. She gives a small and nervous nod. With a smile and nod of his own, Fresco stands back up. Given his charisma, it's rather clear why he's the maître d' of this restaurant. He closes the booking schedule and says, "If you two ladies will follow me, I shall have you seated at once."
I nod, and we follow Fresco as he leads us off to one end of the restaurant. The moment that we leave the entrance vestibule and come into view of the other patrons, the entire restaurant falls quiet as everypony seems to stop what they're doing to look at the two mares that have entered. All the stallions, mares, and even the staff are looking at us with varying degrees of admiration, desire, and perhaps envy. Even for such a formal location, I think we dressed a bit too well. With an exaggerated groan, the restaurant comes back to life as most of the ponies around direct their attention elsewhere.
But even as we continue walking to our table, I can feel the pressure of a few pairs of eyes remain on us. Fluttershy shrinks into my side again, obviously feeling that pressure too. She shivers against my coat. I put a hoof on Fluttershy's shoulder comfortingly and look around for the offending ponies. For those eyes that linger on us, I give them an icy glare. It takes no words to have those ponies look back at their food, abashed. Sorry, darling; we're not interested.
I see that the table Fresco got for us is right next to the kitchen and partially hidden by some potted trees. A basket of breadsticks and a vase of dahlias sit in the center. Two cushions lay across from each other, a menu in front of each setting. It's not a private table, but it's rather close to one. Fresco has us sit down on the cushions as he removes the "VIP Reserved" card from the table.
"Can I start you with something to drink?" he asks.
"I think we'll both have some water, please," I say. I know that both of us would appreciate a good white or herbal tea, but few restaurants provide it as an option.
Fresco nods, takes a pair of glasses from a passing tray, and sets them on the table. He gestures to the menus. "Gioiello, your waiter, will be here soon to take your order. Until then"—Fresco falls into a formal and practiced bow—"I wish you a pleasant night." He gets up and leaves quietly.
I turn my attention to Fluttershy and ask, "Are you alright, sweetheart? There were a lot of ponies back there."
She looks around. Thanks to our convenient location and the line of potted plants obscuring the view, no ponies can see us directly. She turns back to me and gives me a small, timid smile. "I'm okay, Rarity. It wasn't too bad. Especially since you were there with me." She blushes lightly and picks up a menu to peruse the offerings. I do the same. The selection is fairly small, but elegant and well chosen.
It only takes me a few minutes to make a decision. "I think this salad would do for me nicely, don’t you think?" I ask, pointing at one of the options on the menu.
"Um, I think it's fine. But why are you picking a salad?" Fluttershy says, a questioning look on her face. "You don't need to lose weight."
I bring hoof up to my face to hide the blush that has surely grown on my cheeks. "You're too much, Fluttershy. Only because a lady must always watch her figure, even on a date. But what are you having? I see you studying one of the dishes." I point to the largest picture on the menu.
"Oh, y-yes, that one," Fluttershy says. "I don't think I should pick it."
"Whyever not? You can choose whatever you'd like, and you must agree that that one looks delicious."
"It does; it looks so good, but it looks so expensive. I can't even find the price for it!" Fluttershy says. She turns the menu over and over in her hooves.
I look a little closer at the picture of the dish. At the very bottom corner, in a light gray font, I see a tiny figure with what appears to be one too many zeroes after it. I look up to Fluttershy and close her menu with my hooves. If she saw that number next to the dish, she'd never consider ordering it. Smiling comfortingly, I say, "If you like it, order it. Price is no object. I'm paying, remember?"
Like clockwork, our waiter comes to us right as I finish speaking and take my hooves off the table. "Good evening, ladies," he says in a deep voice. "My name is Gioiello. I trust that you are having a pleasant night?"
I turn to see a tall brown stallion with a notebook in hoof. He has a charming smile on his face and a broad, square jawline. The muscles in his legs aren't excessive, but they're quite ample and in just the right places. Oh, and are his shoulders really that broad, or is that just his suit?
I close my eyes quickly; now is not the time for such thoughts. It takes a moment for me to find my voice and open my eyes again.
"Ah, yes, we are having a good time, garçon, and we are ready to order."
Gioiello bows formally and asks, "For you, Lady Fluttershy?"
"I'll have the, um . . ." Fluttershy looks to me in confirmation. I nod. "The asparagus with white truffle," she finishes in a mumble.
Gioiello nods and scribbles something in his notepad. "Excellent choice." He turns to me. "And for you, Lady Rarity?"
"The, ah, Caprese salad, please."
He nods again and scribbles in his notepad before putting it in a pocket on his suit. "Thank you, ladies. Your food will be out shortly." He bows and walks into the kitchen to give the chefs our orders. I watch him go.
Fluttershy prods my side with a hoof. "Rarity, are you okay?"
I rip my eyes away from the kitchen door and back to my love. "Sorry. I was just rather impressed with our waiter."
"Oh, um . . . I guess?" Fluttershy says, shuffling her forehooves. "I wasn't really looking at him that much. I think I was looking at this really beautiful . . ." Fluttershy shrinks back a little before continuing. "I was looking at you."
"Oh, sweetheart!" I smile and put a hoof to my chest. "You are just too kind, sometimes!"
Fluttershy blushes a little before responding. "B-but it's true! You're so much lovelier than me. You're so beautiful, and so nice, and so gorgeous that I just want to . . ." Fluttershy trails off. Fluttershy reaches a hoof across the table, as if intending to touch me. "C-can I?" she asks pleadingly.
I smile warmly and walk around the table, bringing the cushion with me. I sit down right next to her, our sides touching. "I am yours, Fluttershy. All yours. You don't even need to ask," I say, putting my hoof around Fluttershy's torso.
Fluttershy reaches a hoof up to my face. Gingerly, she touches the lace bridle on my face. With her other hoof, she massages the saddle on my back. "You really are a goddess, Rarity," she coos. "A beautiful, beautiful goddess. I've never seen another pony so . . . indescribable." She takes her hoof off of my back and starts playing with my reins, nudging my head this way and that.
I smile to myself at Fluttershy's play. If she is enjoying herself with me, that means I accomplished my goal. I nicker softly and smile at her.
Fluttershy gasps, looking awash with rapture. She takes her hooves off of my face and reins and moves them to other locations: the dress, the tail, the mane, the legs. I extend my hooves and start pressing into her coat as well. It's almost like one of the cuddle sessions we frequently share, but this one feels quite a bit more intense.
I put my lips to Fluttershy's gently, and she kisses back, pressing forward and almost attacking my lips and tongue with her own. The kiss is more aggressive than I have come to expect from her. Not that I'm complaining too much. My eyes drift closed as I try to return the kiss with equal fervor, moaning softly into her mouth. Kisses like these are one of the innumerable reasons why I love Fluttershy.
We separate slowly. Fluttershy turns her attention to the pendant on my neck, taking it in her hoof. I do the same with her pendant, and we press our jewels together, shimmering pink on iridescent white. "We do seem to wear our pendants quite often now," I murmur.
Fluttershy answers with an equally quiet voice. "I know. Ever since you gave it to me, I don't think I've spent a minute outside without it around my neck." she sighs happily. "It's almost like we're wearing our wedding bands . . ."
Fluttershy gasps suddenly before retreating and moving her hoof away, letting our necklaces fall back to our chests. "Oh! I'm sorry, Rarity," she says, her eyes averted guiltily. "I'm moving too fast. I shouldn't have brought that up."
I shake my head gently and urge her face to look at mine with a hoof. "You're never too fast for me, sweetheart. We're far too close now for things like that to bother me," I give her a gentle kiss on the lips, trying to drain the remaining tension from her body.
"It doesn't matter if I were your close friend, lover, or something more," I continue, "because I would be spending my entire life with you in every case." I lean forward and wrap my hooves around her barrel in a tender hug. "Perhaps we're not quite ready to take that step yet," I whisper into her ear. "But if we were ever to make it that far, I would have absolutely no misgivings about being your wife for the rest of my days."
Fluttershy gasps. When I lean back to look at her, there's a trembling but joyous smile on her face, and there's even a little moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes. We join in another heartfelt kiss, this one long and passionate. After we separate again, I wait patiently for Fluttershy to find her voice. "I-I would love to be your wife, too. The lucky wife of such a lovely, pretty, p-perfect goddess."
We nuzzle our noses together again. She puts a hoof back on my face, stroking it gently while her other hoof presses into my saddle as it was a few minutes ago. I close my eyes and smile. "You are lovely," I say. "And I would never be ashamed of being with you." I end with a small lick to her nose.
Fluttershy gasps. "Yes . . . You're lovely too," she says, her hooves starting to wander my body again. "So lovely," she says in a breathy voice against my ear. She plunges her mouth down on my neck and suckles the skin. Now I gasp in surprise. When she comes back up, she says, "But if you're sure that I'm not moving too fast . . . D-do you think that . . . maybe, after this date, we could, um, go home and—"
"Dinner is served, ladies!"
A loud and boisterous voice interrupts Fluttershy. Her eyes contract at the sound, and she squeaks, shrinks back, and tries to hide behind me. I stroke her back and urge her to look up. When she does, we see a large beige stallion with a wide smile on his face. He speaks with a heavy Italian accent in a boisterous voice: "My name is Mario, head chef of La Sorellanza." Two sous-chefs come from behind him, each setting a steel dome-covered plate in front of us.
"I personally prepared your meals tonight, and only the freshest ingredients from the kitchen were used," Mario continues. "Tender asparagus, hearty mozzarella, juicy tomato, and of course, premium white truffle." The two sous-chefs each put a hoof on the metal domes.
"Voilà!" Mario cries out. The domes lift at the same time, revealing our food.
My own salad is exceptionally colorful, consisting of plentiful tomato slices, basil, and mozzarella drizzled with olive oil. True to the rumors, Mario plucks a few cherry tomatoes from the bush behind us and wipes them off with a cloth before dropping them on my salad.
Fluttershy's entrée consists of a layer of roasted asparagus, a circle of white cheeses and boiled egg, and a covering of truffle slices. The dish is not as colorful as mine, but the smell wafting from it is that decadent and delicious bouquet that only fresh white truffle can produce. I take a deep breath, enjoying the smell that I have only experienced a few times before.
Mario falls into a bow. "Enjoy, ladies!" With that, he and his assistants retreat into the kitchen.
"Wow . . ." Fluttershy says, looking at her dish. She seems as enchanted by the bouquet wafting from her dish as I am.
"Yes, sweetheart. Mario is a veritable master at his craft," I answer while raising a cherry tomato in my aura. I put it into my mouth. A sweet and slightly tart flavor explodes out as the skin breaks, lending a taste that only comes from the freshest ingredients. The tomato was not even minutes old when it made its way to my plate. "But you were interrupted when our chef arrived. What was it that you wanted to say?"
"Oh! Umm . . ." Fluttershy leans back and hides behind her mane, rubbing her forelegs together nervously. "I wanted to ask . . . um . . ." She sighs and hangs her head. "I'm sorry, Rarity. I forgot," she concedes.
Her lie is quite transparent; the forced intonation, the swallowing at the end of her sentence, I can read her deception easily . . . but I won't force her to reveal the truth. "Okay, Fluttershy. But when you do remember, please know—" I put a hoof on her shoulder and look at her earnestly "—that I will be with you, and I will always listen."
Fluttershy nods silently.
"But enough of that!" I exclaim, taking my hoof off Fluttershy and turning my eyes towards my salad ravenously. "Our food is here, and we would do good to enjoy it while it is still fresh!"
We lean on each other in a post-meal trance. A "food coma," as Pinkie Pie would so bluntly put it. Our plates lay in front of us, cleaned of what was certainly the best dinner we have shared together. If this experience hasn't done it for me yet, the food has certainly ensured that our first date will remain special in my mind for a long time.
I snuggle deliciously into Fluttershy's warm wing. They may not be as strong or fast as Rainbow Dash's, but I would take these over hers any day. They're always perfectly preened, and they're smoother than the silk she's wearing. Fluttershy willing, I would love to fall asleep under nothing but her wings tonight . . .
I frown. Fluttershy would normally have me entranced under her wing by now, but for some reason . . . I can't quite completely relax. Maybe it's because of the noise, or the extra smells, or the pair of eyes that are locked on me—wait, what?
I obviously can't see those eyes, but I can sense the weight of scrutiny on my body, presumably taking in the dress I wore only for Fluttershy. Those eyes may be staring at her as well. My frown deepens. I don’t normally mind eyes on me, but whoever decided to gawk at Fluttershy and me while we were apparently unaware is in for a rather nasty surprise.
I crack open one eye just a bit to spy at my surroundings without making it seem like I am. There are obviously no ponies in plain sight that can look at us. The ponies I can see through the shielding line of foliage aren't looking at us either. There's nopony by the kitchen peeping out. I turn my eye to the pony closest to me. Sure enough, I see Fluttershy, wide-eyed, staring at my body as if she wanted to consume it.
I open my eyes fully and sit up straight. "Why are you ogling me?" I ask.
Fluttershy quickly breaks out of her own stupor and starts apologizing profusely. "Oh my goodness, Rarity, I'm sorry," she babbles in a panicked tone. "I just still don’t understand how you can be such a beautiful and sexy and perfect lady and I couldn’t help but stare at you and I'm so sorry I'll never do it ag—"
I interrupt her ceaseless words with a hoof on her lips. "Because you know that I'm all yours, right?" I say. The frown I was carrying on my face is replaced with a warm smile.
"A-ah?" Fluttershy seems taken aback, at a loss for words. Silly sweetheart. I chuckle lightly and continue speaking.
"I love you, Fluttershy. Now and forever. I will give everything I can give to see you happy. You have no need to ogle me at a distance because if you ever wish for anything from me, least of all my affection, you need do naught but ask . . ." I kiss her paralyzed lips and try to infuse life back into them. Whether she wanted that kiss or not in the first place doesn’t matter much now; when she regains her awareness, she starts enjoying the kiss immensely. She returns the kiss in turn, thrusting her tongue into my mouth. After a few moments, we separate, and I murmur, "You need do naught but ask, and—" I smile conspiratorially "—your goddess shall provide it for you. Your wish is my command."
"Oh! R-really?" Fluttershy squeaks in astonishment—or perhaps excitement. I smile knowingly and nod slowly. I would deny her nothing; whatever her question, the answer is "yes."
". . . Oh my goodness, R-Rarity," Fluttershy moans with a happy smile on her face, swaying back and forth as though she were drunk on ambrosia. And given that I've finally acknowledged the flattering epithet she likes to use to describe me, she may as well be. Celestia would damn me for acknowledging it, but if it pleases her . . . I sigh in contentment and start rubbing her back.
"Enjoying yourselves, ladies?" A familiar voice sounds. I look up to see Fresco standing in front of our table, a small smile on his face. He steps forward to take the empty dishes away.
"Very much so, Fresco, thank you," I say. Fluttershy remains silent, a drunken smile on her face, her eyes fixed on me. She seems so stunned by my previous quip that she is still swaying back and forth now, entirely unaware of everything besides my existence.
"May I interest you in some dessert?" Fresco says, revealing a small dessert menu to us.
"Yes, thank you." I look over the menu quickly, deciding on what Fluttershy and I would like, seeing as she seems unable to respond right now. "Hmm . . . I believe I shall have the Tartufo, and Fluttershy shall have the rice pudding."
"As you wish," Fresco says with a bow. He takes the dessert menu back and walks into the kitchen, dirty plates and our orders on hoof.
I return my attention to Fluttershy. She's still looking at me dreamily as if I really was a goddess. "Fluttershy?" I ask.
No response. Even though her ears are open, she doesn't seem to be listening. She's mouthing something over and over, but I can't read what it is.
I put a hoof to my chin, trying to think of a way to bring Fluttershy back to Equestria. I think back to what got her into this state. "Hmm . . ." I muse. Well, it got her in it; it should be able to get her out of it. I take Fluttershy's head in my hooves and kiss her full-on on the lips.
The clouds in her eyes leave instantly. Within moments, she takes my head with her hooves and kisses back, more aggressively than any of her kisses prior. She separates for just long enough to catch her breath. Her eyes are ravenous, and her breaths are heavy. "Anything . . . goddess . . ." she moans, though whether it was directed to me or not, I don't know. Before I can respond, she drives forward again so insistently that I nearly topple over. I can barely keep up. Whatever came over my sweetheart to become this . . . aggressive?
And yet, as quickly as it began, it stops. Fluttershy stiffens against me and snaps back to her cushion, forelegs crossed in front of her defensively. I open my mouth to ask her what's wrong just as Fresco returns from the kitchen and puts two small plates on the table. Fluttershy watches him with wary eyes as he walks away to the front of the restaurant. I look to her, concerned. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she says quietly, tensely. It's Fluttershy's non-answer that reveals no more information to me than if she said nothing at all. But I think I can guess what's bothering her. I stroke her back comfortingly.
"Okay," I say cautiously. I look to the desserts Fresco brought for us. Mine is a pair of ice cream scoops, both topped with a shell of melted chocolate. Fluttershy's is an off-white and sweet-smelling concoction served in a wine glass. I take a bite of my own dessert: sweet, cold, and delicious. Just as I'm about to take a second bite, I look back to Fluttershy. She's fidgeting, her eyes flicking between me and the rice pudding. "Fluttershy?" I ask again.
"Rarity, do you think we could leave . . . now?" she asks back in a breathy voice, shuffling her hind hooves.
"Er, yes, we could. But why?" I say with concern and not a little bit of confusion. Such an odd request.
"I just really, really want to ask you something, and I can't wait any longer." Her eyes flick left, then right. "But not here."
I look at my own dessert, half-eaten. A moment's contemplation. ". . . Alright. I guess we're not having dessert then. Come along, sweetheart." I get up walk to the podium in the front of the restaurant, Fluttershy in tow. I'm appeasing Fluttershy's request, but that doesn't mean I know entirely why.
When we make it there, Fresco looks up from his schedule. "Finished already?" he says.
"Not quite," I respond. "We just decided it was getting late, and we wanted to go home. It's nothing against the restaurant or its food, mind; our visit was delightful." I answer Fresco's unasked question. "I'll have the check now, please."
"Er, yes, of course." He writes a few figures on a carbon-copied scroll and gives it to me, quoting the price of our meals. I retrieve a checkbook from a hidden pocket of my saddle and write out the required amount. Thank goodness Fluttershy is still distracted by whatever she wants to discuss with me; she didn't have to see the number I wrote on the check.
Fresco takes the check, attaches to the bill, and tears off the carbon copy to give to me as a receipt. He bows formally and says, "Thank you for visiting La Sorellanza this evening. Please have yourself a pleasant night. I look forward to serving you again."
"Of course, Fresco," I say, shaking his hoof.
The moment we leave the restaurant, Fluttershy starts walking briskly back home, and I follow her. The sun has gone under the horizon, and the last vestiges of sunlight are beginning to fade from the earth. The sounds of the day are waning, slowly being replaced with the sounds of nocturnal animals and their activity. The air is calm and the sky is clear, save for a few dark clouds. Tonight would be a fantastic night to meditate together, but I don't think that's on Fluttershy's mind right now. She loves her quiet time, but she wouldn't leave a date early just to ask to meditate.
I start walking faster to catch up with Fluttershy. On any other night, we'd strolling slowly, taking in the sounds, leaning on each other for support, sharing the occasional kiss . . . but not this night. Fluttershy is intent on getting home as quickly as possible, and only then, it seems, will I get answers.
Perhaps if I didn't love her as much as I did, I would be exasperated at her odd behavior, but right now, I'm just concerned. What is it that Fluttershy is so intent on telling me that she couldn't wait a few more minutes to tell?
Once we make it inside the house, I ask, "Alright, Fluttershy. What is it that you so desperately need to tell me?"
"I . . ." Fluttershy rubs her hind legs together again. "I want to . . ." Fluttershy groans in frustration. It seems that the confidence and aggression she had at back at the restaurant has momentarily left her body.
I get closer to her to lend her my support. "Slowly, Fluttershy. Take your time. I'm listening." I rub up against her side in an attempt to calm her down, but it doesn't appear to be doing much. I try nuzzling her cheek next, but the moment the bridle on my face touches her skin, she gasps sharply as if burned. I move away. Now I'm very concerned. "Sweetheart, what is the matter?" I ask beseechingly.
Fluttershy starts fidgeting again and looks down. She rubs her hind legs together. "Y-you said I could ask you anything, right?"
"Absolutely," I respond as emphatically as I can. If my contact won't comfort her, maybe my words will. I can feel the tension in the air. "I love you, Fluttershy. There is nothing you could ask that would alienate me."
That seems to do something. The nervousness in Fluttershy's face subsides just a little. She closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths to gather herself. She's mouthing the words that I just said to her over and over like a mantra. I wait patiently for Fluttershy to regain her nerve.
It takes over a minute for her to open her eyes again, but when she does, they are directed straight at mine. The emotions in her eyes are equal parts determination, apprehension, and one more I can't read. She speaks in a quiet but determined voice:
Strange. Last I remember, I was having a delightful time with Fluttershy in the restaurant, yet now I'm in Fluttershy's cottage. She's staring at me expectantly, like she wants me to answer her something, but I don't recall her asking me anything.
"Er, what was that, darling?"
Fluttershy shuffles around a bit, swallows, then says, "I said, I want to make love with you."
I blink slowly. Several times.
Odd. I remember—No. I heard her the first time. My mind just didn't want to admit it; I just need a few moments for it to sink in . . .
Fluttershy wants to have sex with me!? What! Why? This is the first date we've ever had, and she's never asked that of me before! Why is she asking me now? No, no, never, absolutely not!
I shake my head vigorously and step back. Fluttershy is my marefriend though, and my closest companion. Why did I reject that notion so vehemently? Thank goodness I didn't voice those thoughts out loud.
I take a moment to contemplate the situation more rationally. I nigh on swore to her that I would do almost anything for her happiness. But the mere mention of sex instantly gives me cold hooves. Yes, we are close, closer than she or I ever expected that we would be. She loves me very much, I love her back dearly, and I couldn't be happier with this arrangement. I would do almost anything for her happiness. Almost.
I look up to Fluttershy. She's clearly anxious, waiting rather impatiently for my response, her ears swiveled forward for what I have to say. Again, a hind hoof rubs against the other.
"Uh . . . I-I think I need some time to ponder what you just said," my muddled mind passes to my mouth. "Why don’t you make some tea for the both of us, and I answer you then?" I put on a crooked smile.
Fluttershy hesitates, biting her lip, a tense look on her face; it seems she's reluctant to go. She rubs her hind legs together again and says, "Okay, Rarity. But only if you really, really need the time." She looks at me hopefully, but I nod my head vigorously: yes, I really, really need the time. Fluttershy turns around and walks off to the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room with my thoughts.
Once she leaves, I start pacing around the room, my thoughts a whirlwind. Sex is such a big step to take in a relationship, and I never imagined that timid, demure Fluttershy would be the one to ask me that question. I've never given thought to the subject with her before, and for a very good reason: I can't have sex with her.
I can't change the fact that mares don't appeal to me. Is she attractive? Of course she is, but not in a way that stirs my loins. I look to Fluttershy working in the kitchen. Her form is perfect and slender, her mane is long and luxurious, and her coat is nearly as pristine as mine . . . but those are but observations to me. She is indeed all those things, but she doesn't . . . do it for me.
Fluttershy has so many other lovable facets about her that my sexual preference is normally not a problem. We hug, we kiss, and we share a bed just like any normal couple. I've only ever told her of my sexuality a couple of times before because it's never been an important subject. But sex . . . Sex is the physical consummation of the lust that two ponies share between themselves. Mutual physical attraction is nigh a requirement for mutually enjoyable sex. And that's the problem.
I want to have sex with her. But I can't. It's not in my nature. The very idea of having sex with Fluttershy—and I shudder to use this word to describe anything related to her—is revulsive to me. I've read my fair share of books, so I vaguely know how it works. But the mere idea of licking Fluttershy's . . . ugh . . . and grinding our . . . ngh . . . The image—of the act, not Fluttershy, never Fluttershy—just fills me with disgust.
But then . . . She wants it. She needs it. I sniff the air a little. The aroma of earl grey is strong in the air, but even stronger is the telltale scent of female excitement. Even though Fluttershy's still in the kitchen, I can smell it from here. It seems the only reason I didn't detect it back in the restaurant was because I was distracted by the sweet and intoxicating pungency of truffle wafting from her dish. I think back to our date:
"I-I would love to be your wife, too. The lucky wife of such a lovely, pretty, p-perfect goddess. But if you're sure that I'm not moving too fast . . . D-do you think that . . . maybe, after this date, we could, um, go home and—"
"Dinner is served, ladies!"
I'm rather certain that I know now what Fluttershy was trying to tell me. I sigh and trace the same circle around the living room again. I only intended to impress Fluttershy with my wardrobe tonight, not arouse or excite her. But it seems that's exactly what I did. Fluttershy was so taken by my image that she could do nothing but take me home and confess her feelings.
And it's not as if Fluttershy was overly subtle about her desire, either. Her frequent stares, her heaving breathing, her aggressive kissing . . . I observed the signs; I really should have been able to interpret them. But it seems I was too distracted to pay them much heed. Or maybe I thought that Fluttershy was too innocent a pony to express those tells in public.
Or maybe I just didn't want to see them.
Like the day I first found love in Fluttershy, I find myself now with the same problem again: I'm at an impasse between two paths, neither of which I want to take. But I don't have a week to ponder my decision this time; Fluttershy will be finished making the tea very soon. And in any case, I will never put her through the same misery she experienced the first time.
As soon as she finishes brewing the tea, Fluttershy brings her tea set to the living room table. "Thank you," I say quietly. I hold a teacup in my aura, taking a deep breath to breathe in the bouquet of the tea—or to wash my nose of the other pervasive scent in the room. I take several slow, long draughts from my cup. The tea does its work and my mind slows down just a little bit. I put my cup down and observe that Fluttershy's teacup looks untouched. She's also fidgeting rather mightily with an uneasy expression on her face. If I didn't know better, I would have asked Fluttershy if she needed to use the restroom. But I do know better, and I know she doesn't. I finish the rest of my tea quickly; Fluttershy is getting impatient again.
Once I finish, I say carefully, "Sweetheart?"
"Yes?" She says, leaning closer to me eagerly, eyes wide.
I sigh and shake my head. It has to be said. "Fluttershy . . . I love you very much. I would do almost anything for your happiness. You know that, right?" Fluttershy nods attentively. "I . . . want to make you happy, and I know that—" I stifle a cringe at the next word "—s-sex would make you very happy indeed.”
Suddenly, Fluttershy squeals excitedly, the widest grin I’ve seen yet on her face tonight. She scampers around the table and captures my mouth in an eager kiss, moving so quickly that I have no time to react; it feels like being assaulted with pegasus. Fluttershy removes her lips from mine, but only takes a moment’s breath before attacking me again. I would normally be returning the kiss with fervor, but I'm not finished speaking. With what I still must tell her, I can't bring myself to enjoy it much.
Fluttershy separates from me again. "Oh, wonderful!" she says. "Thank you, Rarity. You don't know how—" kiss "—hot . . . you are right now. That tight dress, and your soft saddle, and the b-bridle on your lovely face." She's panting again. It seems that privacy is all that Fluttershy needs to feel comfortable and considerably less timid. "Could we go to the bed, please? I know it's small, but it's soft and nice and warm and I want you so badly." She turns around and starts walking to the stairs.
"Sweetheart, wait," I say. Fluttershy turns around and looks toward me, her ears perked. "While what I said was true . . . um . . ." I pause, feeling quite a bit like my marefriend right now. The words I have to say are hard, but they must be said.
"It's also true that . . . how do I phrase this . . . Y-you know that I've only ever dated stallions in the past, right?"
Fluttershy pauses. She looks confused. "I know, but . . . Rarity, we've been together for so long. I know you were straight before, but then you kissed me. Then you held me. Then you loved me." She walks closer to me, eyes glittering, a world-ending smile on her face. "You've been so good to me. You set up dates for us, you share a bed with me, you give me gifts. You even said we might marry someday!" Somehow, her smile gets even brighter, nearly blinding me with the joy it bleeds.
"And I love you, too," she continues. "I want to hug and kiss you. But I also want to really, really love you. I want to bring you the joy you bring me every day." She steps closer still. Dear Celestia, that smile . . . "You were so sexy in the restaurant, Rarity. I just had to bring you home and show you how much I love you.
"I know that sex is a big step, but you said at the restaurant I couldn't move too fast for you and you were just so sexy and I've waited for so long. If we really love each other so much, why can't we share it like this?" Her smile is a mixture of loving and hopeful.
I step back and purse my lips. That smile is so persuasive; it takes an extraordinary amount of self-control for me not to immediately say "Yes!" to that face. Somehow, the rational part of my mind comes through, and I say instead in a strangled voice, "I-I'm sorry; C-could you give me another moment to think?"
The smile on her face loses its splendor for just long enough for me to notice. "Um . . . okay. Just don't be too long, please," she pleads.
I nod quickly and look away, trying to think properly. I bite my lip. It seems that Fluttershy has confused romantic love with sexual love. Similar as they are, there is a distinction to be made. Romantically, everything she said was true: I do love her very much in that way, and through our time together, our love has only grown stronger.
But sexually, I find her exactly as I always have. Beautiful, yes, attractive, perhaps, but arousing . . . no. I just don't see her in that light, and I have never seen her in that light. I sigh and shake my head.
But then I make the mistake of looking back to Fluttershy. She's still smiling that same blinding smile. She looks so excited, so joyous. Her beauty may not be capable of spellbinding me, but her smile does it effortlessly. I don't want to break the illusion that she's constructed around herself. I can't take her happiness away from her. I know that for my own sake, I need to say "no"; I need to deny Fluttershy the pleasure she wants and wants to give me.
But then I'll be wiping that smile that I love so much from her face.
My gaze is drawn up into her soulful eyes. There are a number of emotions in them, but there's one I see that occludes even her immense happiness, and it's one that I was somehow unable to identify before. Lust. I see that emotion clearly now, and Fluttershy is swimming in it. Almost literally. Trickles of moisture have escaped her panties and the folds of her dress and are now tracing several dark lines down her inner thighs. She grinds her hind legs together again.
Lust is one of the most powerful forces in Equestria. It urges celebrities to scandal. It breaks happy marriages apart. In extreme cases, it pushes ponies to public obscenity, the desire to satisfy their lust so strong. It has afflicted so many ponies, including myself. And it has now thoroughly infected Fluttershy.
It was strong enough to push her to cut our first date short. It was strong enough to give her the courage and audacity to ask a question I didn’t think I would ever hear. And it will be strong enough to coerce her to find her sexual release.
I know her well enough: if I deny Fluttershy her lust now, she will hide her disappointment and say "it's fine," when we both know it's not. She'll be broken over the fact that her marefriend won't play with her, but she'll be silent with regard to the pain she feels. Then, she will find an excuse to retire to her bedroom, and she will . . . masturbate to satisfy herself.
I close my eyes and hide a shudder. Disgust washes over me, stronger still than my feelings of distaste for sex with Fluttershy. It would be absolutely preposterous for her to fulfill her desires in that way when her marefriend is, quite literally, sitting in the next room, too caught up in her own greedy feelings to grant her lover a simple request.
If there was any doubt left in my mind before, it is thoroughly banished now. I don't know how I'm going to do it, but I have to try, if only to keep that smile on her face.
I open my eyes and put on a smile of my own, trying not to think about what I've resolved to do. It's forced and too wide, but it does its job as Fluttershy's smile somehow brightens even more and she starts shuffling her hooves on the floor in anticipation. My mouth twitches.
We walk up to Fluttershy's bedroom, and she leads the way with her silent hoofsteps. With her every step, she seems to get more and more excited. She starts walking a little faster, adding a subconscious waggle to her hips. Her panties are thoroughly soaked through, and some fluid escapes her panties and darkens her inner thighs with every step. I avert my eyes.
With my every step, I get more and more nervous. The consensus around town is that I happen to know my way around the bedroom, and it's not wrong; as with other things romance, I have read many books on the subject. That's not saying that I haven't had the occasional one-night stand with a sexy stallion, either.
I just haven't had it with a mare before, and certainly not with a mare I care for this much.
I've had sex with those stallions as a way to relieve our mutual feelings of lust, but this time, I'm having it for a completely different reason. I only hope that I can make it through myself. I bite my lip. It's not that I'm concerned I don't have the skills to perform for her—I'm somewhat aware of the proper techniques . . .
I'm scared she'll notice that I don't like it.
I swallow my anxiety and walk on. I can't let her know. Fluttershy should be able to enjoy her dream without my problems sullying it. And I should be able to enjoy it too, right? Her happiness is my happiness, right? That's what my mind tells me. Strangely, the rest of my body isn't so agreeable.
We make it up to the bedroom, and Fluttershy pushes the door open. She wastes no time in shedding her clothes: her slippers, headpiece, dress, necklace. She drops all her clothing into an undignified pile on the ground and reaches for her panties next. The moment they come off, a fresh waft of heady mare musk suffuses the room. I wrinkle my nose and try not to breathe through it.
I stare at the pile on the floor and get the instinctive urge to separate the dress and undergarments from the pile and have them both properly cleaned. The sodden state of the panties on top gives me pause, however. Instead, I clench my eyes closed and push the pile into a corner. While releasing my magic, I shudder. I never touched it, but I can still feel how wet her panties are.
I slip my shoes off my hooves, preparing to disrobe myself. The necklace comes off, and I blink at the apparent loss of sound. With the enchantment on the necklace no longer in effect, the world feels much smaller. The earrings come off next, and the bridle unbuckles. With my magic, I unclip my saddle and place all the accessories into a neat stack on the ground. Last, I slip out of my dress and fold it carefully.
All the while, I can hear Fluttershy's panting and feel the weight of her eyes on me once again, even though I'm not really trying to put on a show for her. This is not how I imagined the special day with my special somepony would be.
When meeting with important business clients or attending high society parties with such ponies in attendance, perhaps the top priority one should keep in mind is to be prepared: aware of the events that will likely happen, and aware of the conclusion that must be reached. Yet here I am, with the most important pony in my life, utterly unprepared for what the night has in store for us.
I shake off the toxic thoughts and return to reality. I turn my eyes to Fluttershy. She's sprawled out on the bed, completely naked. I freeze. Without a footboard to obscure the view, my eyes are drawn to Fluttershy's forbidden place.
As I expected, it's soaking wet, the fur around it dark and matted down. More moisture is dripping from it and dirtying the sheets under it. The nub above is pink and perked up. It's glistening and begging for something to come play with it. Her folds contract for just a moment, winking at me crudely and excreting a bit more moisture out to join the growing puddle at her crotch.
I can't move, I can't look away, I can't think of anything besides that . . . thing that I'm expected to love. I'm panting heavily, but not because I'm excited. My left eye twitches. I clench my teeth, fighting off the nausea that has come over me, and I try not to groan in disgust.
It's the thing that I've seen a thousand times before on her, but never like this. Every time previous, it was modestly tucked away: a bit of nondescript pale yellow flesh, nothing more. But now, it's exposed so blatantly and obscenely. And it's exposed to me. I want so badly to bolt out of the room, but at the same time, I can do nothing but stare at it, petrified, heart and mind racing.
It's said that sex brings on the heat, but right now, I feel so very cold. I stare at it, and it stares at me. Its mound is wet, but my mouth is dry. It screams for pleasure; I scream for—
"Rarity?"
"Aah!" I jump, shocked out of my stupor by the sudden sound. I blink a few times, finally able to wrench my eyes away from the thing. I look at Fluttershy, and she's looking at me: still a bit heated, but also concerned. I swallow.
"Are you okay? You've been standing there for a long time just looking at me," she asks.
I close my eyes and take some deep breaths. No, I can't show my weakness to Fluttershy; she doesn't need to know. She can't know. She wants something from me, but it's not my anxiety. All I need do is give her this pleasure she wants, and this will be over.
I open my eyes. "Sorry, darling. I think I'm ready now," I lie.
Fluttershy smiles eagerly, and she wriggles her hips on the bed cutely. Or, it would be cute is she was less exposed. I rip my eyes away from her crotch before I can start thinking too deeply about it again. "Come to the bed," she says slowly, extending her hooves.
I pry my hooves off the floor, stiffly walking slowly to the bed. I look at Fluttershy, her face alit with happiness and her arms outstretched invitingly. Tearing my eyes away from her powerful smile, I step up to the side of the bed . . . before walking around it and joining Fluttershy behind her. I know it's not what she was encouraging me to do, but this way, I don't have to touch it.
I ease myself onto the bed and embrace her from the back, spooning her. Fluttershy coos quietly in satisfaction and brings her hooves back in to wrap around mine. She pulls gently, drawing me closer to her. With my muzzle in Fluttershy's mane, I take a breath, breathing in that familiar and calming pine-needle scent. I sigh, feeling a bit of the coziness from our morning cuddle session return. I bury my muzzle a little deeper into her hair. Almost unconsciously, a little of my worry bleeds away.
Until she rolls over to put ourselves face-to-face. I tense up, bracing myself. Something wet and slimy rubs up against my hip. I can't see it now, but I can most definitely feel it. I clench my teeth again and bear it like I would a tooth extraction. Thank goodness hers isn't rubbing up against mine; I don't know how I would have reacted in that case.
I keep embracing her with my hooves, but my arms are stiff and stilted. I can't blink.
Fluttershy moves to wrap her hooves around me, but pauses before she does, pouting. She says, "You're so tense, Rarity. Are you sure that you're okay?"
"Yes! Of course I'm alright," I answer too quickly. I chuckle too loudly, and say, "Perhaps I'm just a little tense because this is the first time I've bedded a mare, is all!"
"Oh. That's okay." Fluttershy unfurls her wings and wraps them around me in a comforting blanket. She massages my shoulder muscles with her hooves, working out the knots that have formed in them. She brings her face close to mine so that we nuzzle cheek-to-cheek. "If it makes you feel better . . . Maybe we can start slow?"
"Y-yes," I say in a more uncertain voice than I'd like. "I would like that very much." I never thought that I would be the one lagging behind in the bedroom, but the prospect of sex and Fluttershy's eagerness for it is overwhelming me. I would never say it out loud, but I was wrong: she is moving too fast for me.
Fluttershy nods against my cheek and continues to massage my shoulders in little circles. Like a day at the spa, willingly or unwillingly, the worries in my mind slowly drift away as my body is pampered. I close my eyes and dig my snout deeper into her wings. Light sighs and moans escape my lips every time Fluttershy rubs away another knot.
My arms relax, little by little, and eventually unstiffen completely and fall naturally along Fluttershy's form. I move them around gently, enjoying the feeling of Fluttershy's coat against mine. She uses only a basic shampoo and conditioner, but her fur still manages to feel clean and soft.
Fluttershy moves her hooves away from my shoulders, their job finished. They wander to other places on my body. One traces its way around my lower back, while the other runs through my mane.
I bury my muzzle into her shoulder and breathe deeply. No matter the season or time of day, she smells of the same crushed pine needles. It's one of my favorite smells, second only to chamomile, and both are soothing.
She sighs in contentment. "You're so beautiful, Rarity," she murmurs, eyes half-closed. Both her hooves come back up to grab my face and direct it towards her own. She puckers her lips gently. I match them with mine, placing my lips softly on hers. She's only content with this arrangement for a moment, however. The next, she's prodding my lips with her tongue. I open my mouth and let her explore.
While Fluttershy caresses my mouth in a passionate dance, I press my tongue against hers, fighting back playfully. She refuses to have it and drives me back, forcing my tongue into a retreat. She continues her kiss for a long time, tracing her tongue against my teeth, my palate. She retreats and breaks the kiss only long enough for her to take a breath before releasing an involuntary needy whine and diving back into my mouth. I moan softly in response.
With a mental sigh of relief, I relax. The cuddling and kissing is more than enough to distract me from the matter at hoof . . . until Fluttershy's lips start getting adventurous.
When we separate once again, Fluttershy has resumed her panting. "I love you so much," she whispers. Her eyes are filled with heat once again, and they're eyeing my neck. She plunges her lips to it and suckles hard. There will surely be a bruise there tomorrow morning. She brings her wings back to her sides and migrates both her forehooves to my lower back. Another kiss, this one on my collarbone. Every kiss she makes is a little lower: my breast, my ribs, my belly.
The closer she gets, the more nervous I feel. I have a strong suspicion that I'm not going to enjoy what Fluttershy is about to do.
Eventually, her mouth makes it to my crotch, and her hooves make it to my thighs. Instead of diving straight in, she stares at my vagina ravenously, like a wolf would its prey. Her hot breaths reach my folds, but they only cause them to close up tighter. Fluttershy looks up, a salacious look on her face. "Are you ready?" she asks breathily.
I can't answer; my throat is locked shut. I'm breathing quickly, trying not to think about what will happen when Fluttershy reaches my marehood. Yet, that's the only thought that's on my brain, and it's screaming in protest, half of it hoping that Fluttershy will listen, and the other half praying that she won't.
Fluttershy smiles viciously and starts breathing and bobbing her head to my breaths. A chill runs down my spine, and my whole body goes cold. Fluttershy leans in, holds down my legs, and puts her tongue to my vagina.
I clench my teeth together and try to control my breathing. She's writhing her tongue about to dig into my slit, lick the outer folds, and brush against my clitoris. It's wet and lathers my vagina with icy moisture. I feel the sensations, but there is no wash of warmth that comes from between my legs and envelops my body. There is no delicious heat that builds and makes time stand still. All there is, is an unpleasant wiggling and an utter sense of wrongness.
My eyes are wide, and they're locked on her face and mouth. I want to look away, but my mind is wrenching my eyes back to her, as if it wants to masochistically confirm that yes, Fluttershy is still there. Yes, I wish that it wasn't so right now. Yes, this is utterly and completely wrong.
I can say nothing; my throat is still choked off. But from Fluttershy is no end of lusty moans coming between licks and other disgusting slurping sounds. Even if I could speak, what would I say? "Fluttershy, stop! I can't stand this!" "Fluttershy, I lied when I said I wanted to have sex with you!" It doesn't matter if it's the truth; it isn't what Fluttershy can know.
The foreplay before sex should be arousing and exciting and make the sex itself even better and more rewarding. I did enjoy the foreplay, but I wasn't at all excited by it. I didn't get wet. I didn't build anticipation towards the sex. I didn't beg for more and more of it harder. I just enjoyed it like any other cuddle session.
But Fluttershy took the foreplay far differently, it seems. She's even wetter from when we started, her fluids now leaking out from between her legs at a prodigious rate and saturating the sheets with moisture. She's constantly grinding it against the bed, smearing that wetness everywhere, getting it onto the blankets as well.
And the smell. Oh, the smell. This close to her, it's the strongest I've had it yet. Cloying and bitter, it invades my nostrils and purges any other scents that I could have taken in. Everything on Fluttershy's bed is starting to give off that smell. I don't like the scent that comes off my own body in times of heat, but this one is somehow even worse. My stomach churns, disturbed by the stench, and threatening to purge itself of its contents.
My eyes constantly flick between her face between my legs and her crotch crudely rubbing on the bed. I can't take my eyes off them. But that's not a good thing. There is no pleasure here, just unease. She can't turn me on. She can't excite me.
She can't bring me any pleasure.
"Rarity?" Fluttershy stops her ministrations and looks up to me. She looks concerned, almost fearful.
"H-huh? Yes, sweetheart?" I manage out of my turbulent thoughts.
"I . . . You're not liking it," she says despondently, looking back down, gesturing feebly between my legs. I follow her eyes. My vagina is still closed and pale, and the nub above it isn't perked up or inflamed. Aside from some saliva coating it, it looks unchanged from its normal state: thoroughly unexcited.
"I'm . . . I'm bad, aren't I?" Fluttershy hangs her head. "I'm sorry. I'm trying my best," she says sadly.
"No!" I blurt out quickly. "No, it's not your fault, Fluttershy. I . . . It's . . ." I struggle to phrase my thoughts correctly. It is indeed my fault that I can't be aroused by her ministrations, but I can't tell her the reason why. I can't tell her that it's by our fundamental and unchangeable incompatibility that she may never excite me.
"Why don't you like it, Rarity? Please, I want to know so I can fix it," she pleads.
Oh, Fluttershy, if only you could fix it; all our problems would be solved. But fixing it would entail fixing me. "I guess I'm still a little tense," I say unconvincingly.
"Oh? Then, what would make you feel better?" she asks.
I know I won't get any pleasure from this experience tonight, but I don't matter right now: Fluttershy does. I've already failed her once at giving her the experience she wants. There's a second side to this coin, though, and it may also lead to her pleasure. I say, "Perhaps I'll feel better if we . . . swap places?" Oh, dear Celestia, what did I just get myself into.
"O-oh!" she cries. "Oooh . . ." Suddenly, her creature that had fallen somewhat dormant wakes back up and produces a fresh gush of fluid onto the bed. If only I could share that excitability; I don't respond to several minutes of her oral sex, but Fluttershy is aroused with nothing but my words. "W-would you?" She rolls onto her back, displaying the thoroughly drenched thing for me to see. One of her forehooves hovers very close to it, as if she wants to rub herself off but is holding back with an immense force of will. She thrusts her hips upwards a little instead. "Because that would be very, very nice," she breathes.
Oh, dear Celestia, what did I get myself into? I stare at the creature of my undoing. It's still wet and eager, and it's not only begging to be pleasured: it's begging for me to pleasure it. It's filthy, with Fluttershy's slimy fluids having escaped her center and now wetting parts of her thighs and belly. I purse my lips. The nausea is coming back stronger.
I've volunteered myself to be the one to pleasure Fluttershy, and I must do it, somehow. If only I could summon a physical likeness of a hoof or a phallus with my magic and use that to pleasure her. But I cannot make something out of nothing. There is no way out: I will have to touch it. I can only hope that I didn't damn myself with my decision.
I slowly move a trembling hoof closer to her thing, fighting off my instinctive urge to whip it back. I'm moving my hoof to touch this writhing and wet creature slathered in smelly and unwashable slime. It feels like I'm about to dig my hoof into a bag of refuse. And I'll need to touch this thing over and over and over again.
It's barely even a touch; Fluttershy probably didn't even feel it. But the feeling of some other mare's secretions on my hoof is enough to make me whip back my hoof. I look at it shakily. It would be disgusting enough if the fluid was mine; it's even worse that it's not. I quickly wipe my hoof on the sheets.
A single touch is almost enough to make me lose my nerve. Almost. I swallow, preparing myself, and extend my hoof again.
"Um, Rarity?" A voice sounds from above me. I stop and look up. "Not to be rude, but I was kind of hoping that when you said 'swap places,' you meant . . ." Fluttershy trails off, but she cracks her mouth open and wiggles her tongue between her teeth. She quickly squeaks, retreats her tongue back into her mouth, and averts her eyes sheepishly. "I-I'm sorry," she mumbles.
Dear Luna, she wants me to put my tongue down . . . there? I swallow again. I wish that I could say "no," if only to spare my own well-being. But Fluttershy wished for it . . . and I can deny her nothing. I put on a crooked smile and say, "O-of course, Fluttershy!" I've never sounded so shaky before.
Fluttershy moans softly in anticipation and bucks her hips up and down a few times again. She smiles eagerly. My face twitches.
I look back down to the creature that I've doomed myself to pleasuring by mouth. How in Equestria am I supposed to do that? I could barely stand touching the thing with my hoof! Just the thought of putting my mouth there is nearly enough to make me retch.
I take several breaths through clenched teeth and steel my determination. I lean closer to Fluttershy's crotch, find a couple dry patches on her thighs that I can put my hooves on, and stop my mouth a few inches from the thing. Oh dear goddesses, it looks even more disgusting up close. It's not that I haven't seen one before—I have one myself, after all—I've just never seen one on a partner of mine, and my body hates the notion that my partner has one at all. And I've certainly never promised that partner that I'd be licking it.
Oh no, it's winking at me. I close my eyes to avoid looking at the obscene sight. I take a deep breath to gather myself.
But I make the mistake of breathing through my nose. This close to her, the smell of Fluttershy's excitement wafting from her crotch is absolutely overwhelming. Familiar, yet foreign, and entirely disgusting. She doesn't smell anything like pine needles.
I immediately start coughing to try to rid my lungs of the suffocating odor. I snap my eyes open from the shock. Oh fuck, it's looking at me again. All wet and glistening and begging for my tongue to come and taste its secretions. In my coughs, I didn't notice that a drop of Fluttershy's fluid somehow made its way onto the tip of my nose. Until it rolls down into my open mouth.
I can feel my heart stop.
It's bitter, thick, piercing, and rancid going down my throat. I can feel the acid in my stomach coming up, rejecting that which just fell into it. With the incredibly pungent smell, the awful taste on my tongue, and the genitals that I'm supposed to put my face into, the experience is unbearable. I wrench my head away, frantically scrub my face, and resist the urge to vomit.
I struggle in silence; one retch, and Fluttershy would know immediately what was going on. I must have spent too long gathering my stomach, however, because she asks, "Rarity?"
"I'm fine! I'm fine," I say in a panic, even though I'm feeling nothing of the sort. "J-just give me a few moments." I sit up and scamper away from her crotch, taking several lungfuls of fresh air.
It takes several more seconds for me to regain what's left of my composure. I swallow my disgust—ugghh—and lean down to try again. I haven't even licked her once yet, and I've already very nearly expelled my dinner. I don't want to try again; I really cannot bear to try again. But Fluttershy waited so long for me, and she had such high hopes. She wants me to try again; she needs me to try again.
Trembling, I extend my tongue and advance forward. Again, I pause a few inches away, unable to move any further. The prospect of the taste, the smell, the fluid on my tongue locks my muscles in place. I can taste the filth in the air.
My mind wants me to continue, to give Fluttershy the pleasure she is begging for, but the rest of my body is holding me back, utterly unable to cope with the disgusting wrongness that is pleasuring another mare.
Mutual physical attraction is nigh a requirement for mutually enjoyable sex. I'm not attracted to her, and I'm not enjoying myself at all right now. What's worse, I told her that I would provide for her to make her happy, but I can't even manage to do that. She can't bring me any pleasure . . .
I scream and yank my head away from her for a second time. I tuck my head into my breast and wrap my hooves about myself, curling into a ball. Tears of shame leak from my eyes.
I failed her again.
I barely hear Fluttershy cry out my name. A pair of hooves comes to embrace me tightly, but I pay it no heed. I hear nothing but my choked breaths, I feel nothing but pain deep in my gut, and I see nothing but my unquestionable catastrophe at trying being a good marefriend playing back in my mind over and over again.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I whisper over and over, as if my words could fix anything. It's all that can escape my pitiful mouth. I can't even do something as simple as accept pleasure from my marefriend. Why can't we just enjoy sex together like any normal couple would?
The question doesn't even need answering: it's my fault. It's all my fault. I'm holding her back from the pleasure she wants.
I don't know what Fluttershy is doing, but she proceeds to wrap her wings around me tightly and rock me gently with her hooves, like she would a baby foal. I uncurl just enough to clutch a wing with my hooves and weep into it. It's a tiny source of comfort, pitiful as it is, and underserving as I am of it.
Her head is right by my ear, and she's whispering things to me in that soft voice of hers. I don’t understand what she's saying to me, but I catch a few things here and there: "Rarity . . . Love you . . . Just cry . . . Let it out," is all I hear. All the while, she keeps embracing me and rocking me back and forth while I continue to release my sobs and my makeup and my hitching breaths into her wing, unaware and uncaring of everything except my tears and her words.
I don't know for how long I wept, but Fluttershy, bless her heart, stayed with me the entire time. Not needily, not impatiently, she just stayed, letting me loose my burning shame into her. And she never stopped whispering those sweet words into my ear.
Eventually, my tears stop and my babbling slows. I know my face is a mess, and I keep my face buried in her wing. "I'm s-sorry," I say one last time, muffled by Fluttershy's down.
"It's okay," she says back, as I think she's been doing the entire time. She runs her hoof through my mane in long strokes, gently working out the knots in it. Her face is against my shoulder, and she's nuzzling it gently, but not coaxing my head up or forcing me into anything. She's pampering and hugging me like my mother would.
She releases her hooves and wings for a moment. I turn around, now facing her and looking down at her body sitting on the bed. She no longer hugging me, but she stays close with her hooves at my sides, seemingly ready to capture me in another hug should I need it.
"Now, are you feeling better?" I hear her ask me, worry in her voice.
I keep my head down, refusing to look at her face-to-face. I know what I'm hearing in her voice, but I'm afraid that I'll find more in her eyes. Disappointment, betrayal, veiled anger? Lust that still needs to be satisfied? "Um . . . a little," I mumble, shuffling my forehooves a little bit. I miss her hugging already.
"Can you tell me why you got so upset?" she asks next.
I tense up and bite my lip. It's clear in my mind what the reason is. But I promised myself that I wouldn’t tell it to her. I promised that I would maintain the illusion for her. She doesn't have to know that I'm not attracted to her. A pained expression grows on my face, I clench my eyes shut, and I shake my head from side to side almost imperceptibly.
Next thing I know, Fluttershy's hooves are around me again. "Please, Rarity," she pleads into my shoulder, a hint of desperation creeping into her voice, "I hate seeing you like this. I love you, and it tears me apart inside when I know something is making you unhappy. It hurts a lot. I just want to know what's bothering you so we can be happy again." She kisses me on the cheek. "If you don't want tell me, that's okay. Just . . . promise me it's nothing serious."
"A-ah . . ." An involuntary sound escapes my throat as I realize the horrible mistake I've made. I return the hug, falling into her forehooves once again. What a fool I have been. In trying to insulate Fluttershy from my own problems, I've only caused her more pain and more worry. And that is perhaps my biggest failure: Fluttershy is not happy. Neither of us are.
I sigh. I don't know what will happen when I tell her the truth. I don't know how she'll react. But I know that continuing this charade won't help matters. It never did. I nod into Fluttershy shoulder and nudge her away so that we can talk. I decide to tell her the things that I should have told her from the very start.
"What's wrong, Rarity?" Fluttershy prompts.
"I've . . . I've been lying to you," I confess, "about . . . about wanting to have sex with you." There's no gasp or growl or any other outward hint that Fluttershy hear what I said. But I know she did, and I keep my eyes down, away from hers, afraid. "I'm so, so sorry."
I feel a hoof on my shoulders. Another lands on my face, but it doesn't feel like a strike. More a . . . a tender caress. She doesn't seem that angry. I gather the courage to look up and meet Fluttershy's eyes.
They're not filled with disappointment or anger like I thought they'd be; they're overflowing with that same worry I've been hearing all this time. Not judgmental, not accosting, they're the eyes of a caretaker who wants nothing more than for her charges to feel better. No animosity, no distrust; all that's left is a distilled concern for me. A very small amount of my tension leaves the room.
"Why did you lie?" she asks gently, calmly.
I sigh. "Because I couldn't break your illusion. Fluttershy . . ." I pause. "Do you know the difference between romantic and sexual love?"
The brief flash of confusion that crosses her face is all I need for an answer. I continue.
"Romantically, sweetheart, I love you. I love your personality, your kisses, your hobbies; you have thoroughly captured my heart. Never forget that. In that aspect, I am not straight anymore. But sexually . . . nothing has changed. I have told you that I am heterosexual, and that is still the case. I am still attracted to males . . . exclusively."
"You . . . you don't find mares attractive. You don't find me attractive," Fluttershy says. A hint of sadness has entered her voice.
"Ngh . . . No, I don't, and I'm sorry," I concede guiltily. "I couldn't stand looking at your, guh . . ." I stop and gesture feebly at Fluttershy's lower body. I can't even look at it anymore, and another pang of guilt attacks me as I realize that she may never have it satisfied properly by her marefriend.
"When I do, it just feels wrong to me," I continue. "Every time I looked, I couldn't help but imagine how different it would be with a stallion. I don't see sex with you as appealing, but I know you do with me. I tried to do it, sweetheart; I tried so hard. But . . ." Moisture gathers in my eyes again. ". . . I can't. And for that, I am so, so sorry." I hang my head.
Fluttershy remains silent for a long time, and I look back up cautiously. For some reason, the sadness is gone from her face, replaced with what I can best describe as "horror." Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is open. I hear a half-mouthed-half-whispered "what?" escape her lips. Moments, later, however, her mouth closes and her eyes contract. Her brow furrows into a sharp "V," and her lip curls downward.
Oh no, she's angry. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Fluttershy! Little as I know it will do, I open my mouth to apologize again for my awful—
"—I'm sorry, too."
My words die on my mouth as Fluttershy takes my line. I blink, a flash of confusion crossing my face. "Fluttershy, you have no reason to be sorry."
"I do. I should have known that you didn’t like doing this. I noticed that you were getting tense, but I didn't want to stop because I was too . . . excited." That should have been a happy word, but Fluttershy spat it out like a leaf of poison oak, guilt and disappointment—at herself?—written on her face.
I shake my head. "No, Fluttershy, it's not your fault. You had every reason to get excited over me. I purposefully chose my wardrobe so you would be excited. I wanted to please you! Little did I know your night would end up . . ." I gesture to us: the dark eyeliner that is surely drawing lines down my cheeks now, the abused wing in which I loosed my guilt, the stained and smelly sheets which tell the story of a night in which no real pleasure was had. ". . . like this."
For some reason, my words seem to do nothing to ease her. Fluttershy shakes her head with a frown before dropping the scowl on her face and looking back up. "Rarity?" she asks.
"Yes?"
"I know that you're generous, and I know you want to make me happy, but please—" Fluttershy leans forward and puts her hooves on my face, earnestness in her eyes "—tell me what would make you happy. Was there any part of this that you liked at all? I don't want our first night together to end like this."
I shake my head again vehemently. "No, Fluttershy, please don't worry about me. This was supposed to be your night—"
"No," she says firmly. "This was supposed to be our night. Please don't sacrifice yourself for my sake. I won't have it. Not now, not ever." Her gaze is fixed on me, her eyes solemn. "Let me take care of you, now. Please, what would make you happy?"
I pause. Even after she was left unsatisfied, even after I failed her twice, even after I confessed our fundamental incompatibility, Fluttershy still wants to take care of me? "I . . . I don't understand," I croak. "I failed, Fluttershy. Why are you doing this?"
"Because you're hurting. Because you hurt yourself to try to please me. And I hate seeing you in pain." She kisses me on the cheek. "You already tried so hard for me. You said so yourself." She kisses me again. "So let me try for you. What would make you happy?"
I find myself looking into Fluttershy's eyes. Whatever lust is left there is now nothing but a smolder. Lust, one of the most powerful forces in Equestria, and Fluttershy beat it back for my sake. For my happiness. Only she would be able to do that. She actually makes me want to try even harder to find a way to satisfy her, if only to give such a noble and compassionate mare what she rightfully deserves. How did I ever come to deserve such a mare?
Backed into a retreat, I can do nothing but attempt to answer her question. I turn my mind inwards. For this entire time, I've actually not given any thought to what I enjoy. I've only thought about what would please Fluttershy. "I . . . I liked the cuddling," I say quietly. "Before we got into any of the sex? The hugging, the kissing. That was good."
Fluttershy nods and brings me into another hug before collapsing down to lay on the bed, bringing me with her. She clutches me close and nuzzles her cheek into mine. Bringing her muzzle up to my ear, she whispers, "Then that's what we'll do."
"But, sweetheart," I protest, "you're not content with this. You want more, don't you?"
"No, Rarity, I really don't need—" She stops abruptly and pauses for a moment. Shaking her head, she sighs and says instead, "Yes, I do want more." Fluttershy pushes her hooves against my chest so we look at each other face to face. I see sadness, worry, contentment, and some latent lust in her eyes. But occluding all of that, I see steel resolve. "But I will be fine. Your happiness is more important," she says firmly, no quaver or unsureness in her voice.
"But, no . . . I need to . . ." I stop. Because I know I can't. Fluttershy is offering to try instead. And she's telling me that I don't need to try. And that she'll be okay with it.
I need to be the one give to her what she wants. But maybe . . . just this once . . .
"O-okay," I whisper, surrendering to Fluttershy's infinite kindness.
She draws me in again and brings her wings around to wrap me as well, like she's protecting a baby bird from harm. In all directions, my sight is obscured by a haze of yellow. And from all directions, every part of Fluttershy's body radiates love and concern for me. With a sensation that I actually enjoy, and with no pressure from myself or others to do anything disgusting or unappealing, for the first time tonight, I feel warm.
Slowly and gently, Fluttershy starts to massage my back with her hooves again, working out the numerous knots that have again formed there even in the short time since she did it last. Sighing in comfort, I let her do her work. I dig my nose into her chest, feeling her unnaturally soft and well-maintained coat and taking in that ever-present and ever-soothing scent of pine needles that I've been missing for quite a time. She smells nice again.
All the while, she peppers gentle kisses on my forehead, my horn, and my cheek. I do my best to reciprocate, taking my muzzle out of Fluttershy's chest fur and looking up to Fluttershy's face. She looks down at me and slowly moves her lips closer to mine. We meet halfway in a slow and affectionate kiss. Unlike before, she's moving slower now, only pushing at my tongue or exploring my mouth when I do it first.
Eventually, after many minutes, Fluttershy finishes her massage, but unlike the first time, her hooves migrate no lower. One stays on my back to keep me close to her breast, and the other cradles my head gently from below. She whispers to me, "I know you want to bring me pleasure, but please don’t hurt yourself to do it. You mean too much to me."
With a sigh, I wriggle up to Fluttershy's voice so that we are level with each other. I say quietly, "This was supposed to be a night of happiness. I'm just . . . disappointed in myself that I couldn't make that happen for you."
Fluttershy shakes her head a little before bringing a hoof behind my head and guiding it to her lips for a gentle kiss. When we separate, she says, "You make me happy every day by just being with me."
I nod slowly. "I just wish I wasn't so . . . unable to please you. You are beautiful, and you deserve a mare that is more willing and able to give you pleasure." And this evening has made it abundantly clear that I can't be that mare. I look down, averting my eyes from Fluttershy. "You deserve somepony who can do that. You deserve somepony better than me."
Fluttershy's hoof coaxes my head back up. Reluctantly, I do so. The expression on her face is . . . not quite angry, but severe. My eyes are drawn to hers; they flash with intent, and they contain a fierce burning fire within. They're almost hypnotizing in their depths. I'm not unwilling to look away from her; I'm utterly unable to. I can't even blink. She's captured my complete attention, and she won't release it until I hear what she has to say. Her tone of voice is one that I've never heard directed at me before: commanding.
"Don't say that, Rarity; don't you ever say that again. I've loved you at a distance for years. I don't care what problems we may have. There is nopony out there whom I would be happier with than you." Her eyes are unblinking, and they drill into me until her words can come behind them and make their way to the deepest recesses of my mind.
I can do nothing but nod dumbly. Fluttershy closes her eyes and furrows her brow a little. The spell broken, finally, I'm able to take my eyes away from her, and I release the breath I didn't know I was holding. The exchange must not have lasted more than a few seconds, but it felt far longer to me.
When I look back to her, her eyes are back to their soft, compassionate appearance. There's not a hint on her face that she reprimanded me mere seconds before. In a weak and small voice, I say, "O-okay."
"Good," she says softly back. A small smile has grown on her face. She starts rubbing my back. "Please don't be scared of me; I just wanted you to know." She licks my face tenderly.
I nod again and draw a little closer to Fluttershy's body. I don't think that I could ever be able to fear her, but she can be incredibly . . . convincing when she wants to. "I know now," I say, and a small smile of my own grows on my face.
Fluttershy continues to lick, and I realize that she's probably cleaning my face of eyeliner tracks and makeup stains from my previous breakdown. When she's finished, she nuzzles my face affectionately to dry it of her saliva. She retreats for just long enough to find my lips and give them another soft kiss. I open my mouth and let her in, but she doesn't immediately dive in and explore my mouth. She advances slowly and only goes as far as my tongue. She pushes gently against it, and I push back.
We separate again. She pats her chest a few times and invites me to rest my head on it. When I do, she covers my body with a warm wing and strokes a hoof through my mane. I didn't think that Fluttershy would ever be the one to take charge in the bedroom, but it seems that when I show weakness, her maternal side reveals itself to take care of me. Fluttershy can be very assertive when she wants to—especially so when her marefriend gives her a reason to be as such.
I look up. She looks down and smiles warmly at me, beaming down like a pleasant ray of sunshine. Again, I am taken by her smile, but this time, I know that there's something else that she is hiding from me; it’s not on her breath, or otherwise immediately obvious, but I know that sex is still in her mind. Her lust is sleeping right now, but it’s still very much there. My guilt is coming back.
"Thank you, sweetheart," I say slowly.
"You're welcome," she replies, brushing a forelock out of my face.
"But . . ." I bite my lip. "There is something more that I want, something even more than this."
"What is it?" she asks quietly.
"I . . . I want to make love with you." They're exactly the same words that Fluttershy spoke to me some hours ago, but they mean something entirely different. "I know that you still want more, sweetheart, and I want to give it to you. I want to give it to you so badly." My voice is pleading, almost desperate: desperate for a solution that just doesn't exist. "I want to be comfortable with you in every way, romantically and sexually. I want for us to consummate like we should be able to: for you to be able to give me pleasure, and for me to be able to bring you the joy you bring me every day." I sigh, letting out the hopes that I never had. "But I just don't see how," I finish despondently.
Fluttershy shakes her head and continues to smile down on me. Even without words, her smile tells me that all is well. I breathe in contentment and snuggle into her wing. How I wished this morning that I could fall asleep under her wing; tonight, I may just get that wish. Before I close my eyes, however, I look up one last time.
Fluttershy's not looking at me anymore; she's looking off to the side, a contemplative look on her face. As I'm about to ask what she's doing, she turns back to me and smiles again. The words die on my lips.
"W-what?" I stutter. Fluttershy has already surprised me several times this night, but she's doing it again by taking seriously a suggestion I made only in frustration. "Sweetheart, don't worry about that. You don't need to try to find . . ." I trail off, realizing that she is no longer on the bed with me. At some point, she vacated the bed without my noticing. I look around.
She's standing up and facing a dresser, nosing through one of the drawers, apparently looking for something.
"Sweetheart?"
No answer. I let out a breath sit up on the bed, opting to remain there and wait for whatever she wants to present to me.
A few seconds later, Fluttershy's muzzle emerges from the dresser drawer and closes it. When she turns around, I see a heavy black blindfold is gripped in her teeth. She climbs back on the bed and drops the item in front of me, saying, "Wear this, please."
"A . . . A blindfold?" I ask. I nudge it cautiously with a hoof. I know where a blindfold can be used in the act of lovemaking, and I know the implications of what Fluttershy has given me. I know that she is taking leadership now, but I didn't think she would take this much leadership . . . and dominance. I look up, concerned for both myself and her. "Sweetheart, are you sure?" I say.
Fluttershy only nods, smiles that alluring smile of hers, and whispers, "Do you trust me?"
I look back at the blindfold. It only takes me a second to answer Fluttershy her question and make my decision. "With my life," I whisper, half to myself. Without another word, I take the blindfold up in my magic, slip it over my eyes, and plunge myself into darkness.
With my sense of sight removed from me, I use the senses I can to gain my bearings. My coat tells me that I'm lying on a soft bed, obviously. My nose detects the scent of wildlife and faint pine needles. I can't say that my tongue tastes much of anything in the air.
Of course, there is also my hearing, a sense that I wouldn't have concentrated much on a year ago. But I've honed this sense with Fluttershy for a long time, and I can say with reasonable confidence that the only pony in Ponyville with hearing sharper than mine would be Fluttershy herself. Swiveling my ears around, I hear the soft breeze battering at the cottage. I hear the muffled sounds of nocturnal animals going about their day. I hear the ticking clock downstairs.
A warm hoof presses to my neck and gently coaxes me to lie down on the bed again. I acquiesce, the mattress flexing and the bedframe creaking as I shift my weight to recline back. Moments later, the bedframe creaks again as I feel something lays down beside me and draws close. As if I needed any confirmation to know who it was who joined me, the soft hooves that surround me and the chest to which my head is pressed leaves no ambiguity.
I rub my face against her coat, relishing the feeling of her perfect pelt against mine. I bury my nose into it as well, getting more of that oh so familiar and soothing scent. I even peek my tongue out from my mouth and lick her chest a little, determined to explore her with every sense I have. She doesn't taste of much, but the feel of her smooth coat against my tongue and lips is exquisite all the same.
Another shift in the mattress, this one more subtle than the last. I feel breaths against my ear and hear a voice:
"Rarity."
"Fluttershy," I murmur back. I reach my hooves upwards, clumsily searching for her head so I can kiss her lips. When I find it, I put my hooves on either side of it and shuffle my body upwards until we are . . . well, not quite looking face-to-face. But I need no yellow coat or pink mane or blue eyes to know that Fluttershy is in front of me, the mare that I love very dearly. And the one mare I feel comfortable kissing.
I lean my head in, puckering my lips slightly . . . and run them into her nose. Another sound reaches my ears, this one of the pure and delightful chimes of Fluttershy's laughter. I chuckle myself and trace my way past her snout and to her mouth. When our lips touch, she opens her mouth a little, inviting me inside. I open my mouth as well and join in the dance that only two lovers can perform in. And we've had plenty of practice. I moan softly into her mouth.
I smile as we separate. This blind love is something that we've never actually tried before. Yes, we've meditated together a countless number of times, but those sessions don't include much affection, save the occasional rub or nuzzle. Certainly I've never done blind something this passionate. I must say, I quite enjoy this arrangement. The only downside that I can think of is that I can't see Fluttershy's beautiful smile anymore.
A slight breeze rustles my mane and coat; then it stops as something big and warm settles onto my body. I purr in delight and snuggle a little deeper into the wing. How I love the feel of Fluttershy's downy softness on me. I hear her speak again.
"Rarity."
"Fluttershy."
"I first fell in love with you because of your looks. You were so pretty to me. But you don't take much pleasure from mine, and it seems like you were bothered by it sometimes. The fact that I'm a mare."
I frown. "Fluttershy, I'm sorry, I just wish—"
I'm interrupted by a hoof on my mouth. "No more apologies," she says. "I just want us to return to the way we started spending more time together and the way you discovered your love for me: through listening, and through language. If that's the way that you love me, I don't want the sight of a mare to distract you from that."
I nod in agreement before something that Fluttershy said before comes back to me. "But, sweetheart, how to you propose we could ever get to . . . uh, sex, from here?"
She pecks me on the lips briefly before saying, "Don't worry about that. Let me figure that out. You've been kind enough to me. Just relax, and let me take care of you."
I hesitate before responding. An instinctual part of myself rises up in protest, but I suppress it before it gains any purchase on my mind. Fluttershy will accept nothing less than an unconditional surrender. I relax again and say, "Okay."
"Good."
I feel my mane part as Fluttershy runs her hoof through the strands once again. I coo in satisfaction and reach my hooves behind her to massage lightly at the junction between the wings. I can't see her face, but I can imagine the dreamy smile on it; I know that she likes it back there.
A hoof on the back of my neck pulls me closer to Fluttershy, and a pair of hind legs do the same for my hips. Her wing also pokes at my back, encouraging me to get closer. I let her pull me in, and she locks her hind legs about my own.
Oh, dear Celestia, not again. It's squeezed up right against my own. It's not so wet anymore, but it's still puffy and it feels sticky now. I squirm a little.
Fluttershy loosens her hooves, and I back up quickly, putting a little distance between us. "Are you okay?" she asks, concern coloring her voice.
I sigh guiltily. "I'm sorry." I needn't say anything else; she already knows.
"No more apologies, Rarity," she insists. "If you don't like that, let's try . . ." Fluttershy gently pushes my hind legs with her own, encouraging them to fold up against my belly. When I do so, she replaces a front hoof behind my neck and her hind hooves on my haunches and pulls me in once again. With my hind legs between us, her marehood is separated from mine, and it no longer feels quite so offensive. She draws me in tight.
" . . . this, instead," she finishes. I nod in agreement and curl up into a small package while Fluttershy envelops me with her hooves and wings. I lean forward to tuck my head under her chin. She's so warm.
"Thank you," I murmur quietly.
Fluttershy kisses the top of my head lovingly several times. The hoof behind my neck tightens a little, and my face is pressed closer to her coat, my nose and mouth buried in her fur. Her breaths feel so soft against my ear—
"Mmphff!" I squeal.
Fluttershy immediately retracts her hooves and says, "Rarity! Are you alright?"
Released from her embrace, I bring a hoof up to my right ear and flick it a few times. She bit me. It wasn't hard at all—she bit me in the way lovers nibble on each other's body parts. I just . . . wasn't expecting it.
Considering how honed my hearing has become, nothing much catches me by surprise anymore. I can always either see what is incoming or hear it coming closer. Much to the dismay of Sweetie Belle and Rainbow Dash, I can always catch a prank now before they spring it on me.
"I'm fine, sweetheart. I was just taken by surprise." I tweak my ear once more. I didn't even hear her mouth open. With any other pony, I'd be able hear them and brace for contact, but Fluttershy is hard to detect at the best of times, and nearly impossible when one is being deliciously snuggled at the same time.
"Oh. I'm sorry," she says.
"No, don't be sorry, sweetheart. That surprise was actually quite . . . exciting." I'm not exaggerating. It's an utterly novel experience for me to be surprised by much of anything these days.
". . . Exciting?"
"Yes, quite so. But enough of that. I'm cold again!" This time, I reach my hooves out to capture Fluttershy and pull her in myself. She quickly reciprocates, prying her hooves and wings out and embracing me with them after I curl up into our previous position.
Again, I feel breaths against my ear, but this time, I'm expecting what comes next. A tender lick, then a soft and light nibble on my ear. I coo in pleasure. Something moist touches my ear and suckles gently. A pause, then Fluttershy moves on to nibbling and licking and kissing the other ear.
Once again, my mane parts as a hoof is run through my mane. The other hoof gently rubs at my back. I sigh and let my body sink into the softest and warmest pillow and blanket imaginable.
A dulcet and pure tone reaches my ears. Fluttershy is singing. It's a beautiful, lovely voice that she has, and it seems like she's singing a lullaby. I've never needed her help to go to sleep, so she's never done that before for me. Nevertheless, her lullaby works its magic as it does with every living creature she directs it towards. I feel myself yawn and my eyelids growing heavy under her spell. "F-Flu . . . shy?" I ask drowsily.
Shh," she says softly, and she resumes singing. My muscles relax a little more, and behind the blindfold, my eyelids droop lower. It is rather late, isn't it? Her heartbeat is slow but strong and consistent. A hoof strokes my back in time with her heart, adding another element to the hypnotic cadence. Before long, the combination of her wings, her voice, her heartbeat, and her stroking lulls me into a light sleep . . .
When I open my eyes, I realize the blindfold is still on; I can't see a thing. It feels like I haven't been sleeping for more than a few minutes, but given that I can't look at a clock or out the window, I can't tell. The sounds of owls outside tell me, however, that it's still nighttime. More obvious than that, though, I feel that the delightfully soft wing that was once covering me is no longer there. It's been replaced with the still-soft but comparatively scratchy blankets of Fluttershy's bed. I wiggle them off my body. Uncurling my hooves and waving them about, I can't feel anypony else, either. Fluttershy has left the bed.
I sit up. I'm tempted to take off the blindfold and see what is going on, but I have to believe that this, too, was part of Fluttershy's plan, whatever it may be. I wouldn't think she would ask me to don a blindfold just to put me to sleep and run away. And I told her that I trusted her. No, the blindfold stays on.
"Fluttershy?" I call out.
No answer.
I try again. "Fluttershy? Where . . . Where are you?"
Only the nondescript sounds of the breeze outside and the ticking clock downstairs answer my call. In straining my ears and swiveling them in every direction, I don't hear a hint of breath or shift-of-weight or any of the usual signs that would betray a pony's presence.
I sigh and sprawl back out on the bed. Now I'm thoroughly confused. Why would Fluttershy leave the room? To go get something? To take care of her animals? Why would either of those tasks be so essential to complete now? Even so, in both cases, I would likely hear at least something that would reveal to me what she was doing. It's like she vanished from the house entirely.
"Fluttershy, please, what is going on?" I cry out.
For the third time, nothing useful answers my call. I groan. I am used to sitting in near silence and listening to the sounds, but not like this; not right after your marefriend lulls you to sleep and decides to up and vanish in that time. Not when you are longing to hear one particular—
"Rarity."
"Aah!" I squeal and whip my head to my right. I heard a voice, and it was most definitely the one of my inimitable marefriend. But I was sure that nopony was here! My ears swivel in that direction and strain to hear something, anything from that direction. Absolutely nothing! It's like Fluttershy appeared from on high to whisper in my ear and then vanished ag—
"Over here."
"Nnngh!" I snap my head to the left. What? How? Surely I would be able to hear somepony moving mere feet from me! But I hear no hoofsteps or shuffles, not even the slightest thump on the floor. Nothing! She was just on my right though! And-and then on my left, and now she's gone again! It's as if a disembodied voice is floating about me and playing a practical joke on me. Unless I've somehow missed Fluttershy being an alicorn for all the years I've known her, I have no idea how she is doing this. Or unless she can somehow move around me while not making even the slightest sound—
Oh. Oh, Celestia have mercy on me. Her hoofsteps this morning . . . She can.
"I love you."
I gasp. That voice was right in front of my face. The wisp of breath and the slight breeze from her wings betrays her presence for a moment, but only a moment. I reach a hoof upwards, but I touch nothing. She's gone again. I don't know what direction she went, and I don't know where—
"So much."
"Achk!" At the base of the bed, where my hind hooves lie splayed. I'm too stunned to do anything save lie trembling on this bed. Fluttershy . . . She's a quiet pony in every way. She's hard to detect at the best of times. And right now, she might be actively trying to hide herself from my perception. If that's the case—
"So very much."
—there's no way an amateur like me could hope to detect her. I swivel my ears right, but again, there's nothing there for me to find. She could be up to anything, and I would be unaware of it until she decided to reveal it to me.
I . . . I give up. I don't know where you are.
And I don't know where you'll strike next.
"Surprise."
I draw a shuddering gasp. Her breath tickles my inner folds, and a trickle of moisture drips out from between.
"I want to bring you joy."
Again, I reach up to try to touch her, and again, I fail. I realize what her plan was. How devious, how cunning. Fluttershy is such a wonderful, caring, thoughtful mare. And when she wants to be, dare I say it—
"Like you bring me every day."
—sexy. Somehow, someway, she's using a special talent of hers to arouse me. And it's working. I'm utterly exposed to her, alone, spread out across the bed, and I feel hot. A thin layer of sweat forms on my coat, and it joins the pool of fluid gathering in my loins. I never thought this would ever happen, but Fluttershy is turning me on.
"You will be mine, Rarity."
"Yes . . . yes! I am yours, sweetheart!" I cry out into the darkness. She doesn't respond, but I know she's somewhere, listening. My love. My unbelievable love. My incomprehensible, wonderful, oh-so-sexy love. My—
"All mine."
My near-deific marefriend, who is coming from everywhere and nowhere at once to find a way to please me. Oh, how the tables have turned.
"Tell me what you want . . ."
"I . . . I want . . ." I squeak. I can barely believe the words I'm thinking of saying. I am a thoroughly sexually straight mare, and right now I want Fluttershy, more than ever, to bring me pleasure. Not a stallion, not a dragon. A mare. That . . . That can't be right.
"Tell me."
I whip my hooves up to try to capture Fluttershy in a hug, or at least touch her. Anything to break this silence. But no, Fluttershy is too quick for me, and I grasp only air. I bring my hooves back down in frustration.
More than hearing, more than sight, I wish for my sense of touch to return to me. And if my dripping marehood and sweaty body have any credence to their speech, I want it most of all in one particular place. And I want it from Fluttershy. I need it.
"Tell me now!"
I've lost. I draw in a deep breath and scream, "I WANT YOU, FLUTTERSHY! Please! Touch me, lick me, kiss me, anything! I can't stand this anymore!"
After my tirade, I gasp out my remaining breath, breathing heavily. I widen my hind hooves and thrust out my hips ineffectually, begging for something to touch between my legs. Needy whines escape my lips. My hooves twitch at my sides, longing to move to my loins and succumb to my baser instincts. But Fluttershy wouldn't like that. And I told her that I trusted her. With great effort, I keep them away.
I've never wanted sex this badly before; no past lover of mine has been able to make me scream before a single touch was made. But Fluttershy, that sweet and sexy mare, and the most unlikely of candidates, has done it.
I'm sweating from every pore of my body, and fluids are leaking out of my sex at a prodigious rate and saturating the sheets beneath me. Now I'm writhing on sheets that have been subject to both mine and Fluttershy's filth. The stains will take ages to wash out of my coat, and the smell will take longer still. But for once, I couldn't care less about my personal presentation.
What . . . What is she doing? I've been waiting here for Celestia-knows-how-long like a good girl, keeping the blindfold on, restraining my own hooves, waiting for her to touch me, but she hasn't made a move. She hasn't spoken; she hasn't touched me, nothing! I'm afraid to do anything myself for fear that I will anger her, but I may very well explode if nothing happens—
"Ah!"
It's not a touch; it's not even close to one, but it hints of what is to come. Fluttershy has privileged me with her presence: she's blowing on my love lips. They contract and wink in a desperate attempt to find pleasure, but it's not enough, it's not enough, it's not nearly enough. I whimper a little.
The air stops. What-what did I do? Was I too slow? Was I too needy? Must I beg more? I thrust forward, desperate for something, anything. I'm sorry, Fluttershy, if your disciple is disappointing you right now, but please, I need—
"Oooh!"
It is a touch, but not where I need it to be. A hoof is on my belly, tantalizing close to my clitoris. It pins me down and stops my bucking for a moment. I whimper again. Fluttershy, please, lower! Make me scream, make me cry, make me howl your name! I've been dripping for so long now, and I can't wait any longer!
The hoof moves slightly, but just slightly. The very edge of her hoof is brushing the very top of my nub. My breath catches in my throat. I start shuffling upwards in a desperate attempt to move the hoof to where I want it to be, but it quickly pushes down harder and stops me from moving. I whine needily again, but still, the hoof does not move. Damn it, Fluttershy, don't do this to m—
"Your wish is my command."
"EEAAUGH!!"
I screech in pleasure as the hoof finally, finally, touches my pleasure center. The feeling is . . . such rapture at a single touch . . . It transcends rational thought. My worries, my frustration, my previous sorrow, all of it is washed away and supplanted with sheer euphoria. My eyes clench shut.
I squeal again as the hoof rubs around, grinding into my folds and shooting rivers of fire into my veins. I writhe every time her hoof so much as brushes my nub, so sensitive it has become. I buck my hips lightly, a near-involuntary reflex against the sensitivity.
I have no idea what sounds are leaving my mouth, but I fear that one would be unable to construe words from those sounds. It's the last thing that's on my mind at the moment. If this continues for long, I may never know coherent words again.
Trembling, I turn my head down to look at whatever is there that is causing me such incredible sensation. I open my eyes and see . . . nothing. Somehow, I've forgotten again that I'm wearing a blindfold. I'm looking down, but there's nothing to see. Stripped of a sense, I'm left with only the wet sounds of sex, the smell of our excitement in the air, and the indescribable feeling.
Perhaps you were right, Fluttershy; I might have been distracted by the sight of a mare. It might have taken me out of my rapture. But whatever is the case, at this moment, I don't care. All that matters is this f-feeling you are bringing me. The pleasure you have somehow figured out how to elicit from me. No distractions, no forcing, no nausea. Just pleasure.
"Ngah!"
Another brush on my clitoris, and another buck of my hips and a writhe of my body. I feel a hoof pin my hips down once again, but another one continues to pleasure me under it. I can't move my hips at all anymore; I can't escape her hoof for even a split-second. "F-Flut-t . . ." I squeak, unable to finish the word. A tiny part of my mind pleads for the onslaught to stop, but that part is swiftly silenced as the rest of it screams for the sensations to continue.
It's just a hoof that on my sex at the moment; mechanically, it's no different than if I decided to rub myself off. But this feels so much better than that. I never imagined that I would be brought to the thrall of sex like this.
But I wouldn't trade this experience for anything right now.
The hoof slows down a little and starts tracing idle circles about my outer folds, taunting me. I crave for something more intimate, but if Fluttershy is to be trusted, she will grace me with it soon. And I trust her with my life. The hooves disappear, leaving the spots they vacated cold. I whine again.
"Are you ready?"
"Yes! Yes, I am! Please, make love to me! Make me yours, you sexy mare!" I plead, bucking my hips up and down. This pre-pleasure purgatory is maddening. And Fluttershy alone will determine when it ends. She holds the key to my pleasure in her hoof, and she is the only mare in Equestria that is capable of holding it.
My breath hitches in my throat. Again, I feel Fluttershy's breaths against my sex, and they're even worse than before. Her mouth hovers close, and I can feel the heat on her breath. Two hooves come to either side of my sex and pin them down, preemptively stealing my only means of escape from the incoming sensation.
"Aaaaii!"
One . . . One straight long lick from base to clitoris. My hips twitch and spasm, unable to stay still, but they're unable to move more than a few inches.
She's stopped again. I know what she's about to do now, but this time, I won't be bearing it until it stops. I'm begging for it to start. Another involuntary whine escapes my throat, and I squeak out, "Please. I need—"
I gasp as Fluttershy takes the rest of my breath away. She licks my whole sex aggressively, and every new stroke brings with it a fresh wave of pleasure and another shot of fire. I would be screaming my voice hoarse right now, but Fluttershy is taking my breath with every lick and leaving none for me. My breaths are erratic.
My whole body spasms when a pair of lips reaches my clitoris and suckles on it. I gasp through clenched teeth. So . . . so much. It's overwhelming. A hard lick that parts my folds and another suckle not even seconds later, and I know I cannot bear the sensation for long. But with my hind legs pinned down, there is no escape.
With no way to move my loins away from the wildly flicking tongue and suckling lips, I can do nothing but thrash my head about and grind my forehooves into the bed. The pressure mounts.
Words . . . Words utterly fail to explain the feeling. Given that I'm unable to say anything and too filled with rapture to give my ears any attention, they shut off, joining my eyes in dysfunctional sense organs. In quick succession, my mouth and nose follow. They render me with but one sense left.
Only one thing matters now: the writhing and pleasuring animal between my legs. I can't breathe. I can't move. I can do nothing but let the sensations build and build and build. Fluttershy have mercy on me when that tower topples over.
The lips move to my mound and suck on it hard.
I gasp, and in a flash, all my senses return at once. I see a bright white light appear from everywhere. I smell the scent of excitement be replaced with the scent of satisfaction. I hear an incoherent sound of incomparable volume escape my throat. I taste fabric and stale excitement as I bite into the corner of a blanket in a futile attempt to stifle my voice.
But most of all, I feel . . . joy. Joy in the way that Fluttershy has discovered a way to satisfy me. Joy in the way that another barrier has been broken in our relationship. Joy in the way that our love is stronger than an apparent lack of lust. And of course, joy in the way that—
I smash my head and forehooves against the bed and scream, overcome by sensation most of all. Somehow, my hind legs are still pinned, and a tongue is still working the nub and slit there furiously, prolonging and amplifying the spasms I am riding through. New fluid and new joy comes with every convulsion, each one unbearably intense.
The waterfall of pleasure crashing down on me slows to a torrent, then a stream, then a trickle. When it finally stops, I slump back on the bed, utterly exhausted, utterly filthy, but utterly and completely satisfied. My body has become a wet noodle, a free mold for my Fluttershy to shape and move however she wants. All of my strength has left my limbs. I can't find the means to do anything save exist.
A creak of the bed, then the mattress flexes slightly. A pair of hooves comes to embrace me, and it gently rolls me over so I'm on my side. I feel a soft coat touch mine and pair of hooves wrap around my back, locking us together. A whisper of Fluttershy's reaches my ear. "Did you like that, Rarity?"
"Huwhwhaa . . . Ah . . . Ah whaahaa . . ." My voice is shaky and completely incomprehensible. I can't find the strength to form coherent words right now. But if I could, I would say, Yes, very much so, Fluttershy. I can't believe you would go to such lengths to please me. I'm so very lucky to have you as a marefriend. Instead, I put my head down and weep with joy. My breath hitches a little.
Somehow, Fluttershy understands me. A hoof starts stroking my back in circles, and I hear a whisper in my ear. "Aww. Don't cry. I just did something that you deserved. I love you." I feel a pair of lips kiss my ear. "I love you." On my horn. "I love you very much." A hoof on my chin, then a kiss straight on the mouth. I find the modicum of strength I need to feebly return the kiss.
"Ah . . . Uwhaa, ohfmmph—" I try to speak again, but Fluttershy interrupts me with another kiss.
She says, "I know, but please don't worry about that. We'll worry about me another time, okay?" She licks my cheek.
"Oohaay . . . ?" I say weakly. Something about what she says bothers me, but I can't find the mental faculties to think about it now.
I feel Fluttershy shift, and something warm and heavy settles itself down on me. A light press on the back of my head, and it's guided to something firm and strong. A few nudges on my hind legs, and they're encouraged to fold up. Something warm settles gently on top of my head.
We lie motionless on the bed for several minutes . . . partially because I'm too exhausted to try moving much. But slowly, eventually, my strength returns to me, just enough for me to start perceiving the world again. The first thing I notice is how . . . surrounded I feel.
Her wing is once again over me, but instead of bedsheets under me, I feel more pegasus down. She's slipped her wing under my body so I'm lying on it, and it feels so cozy. Warmth is trapped between her two wings. My face is against her chest again, and her chin seems to be cradling my forehead and horn from above. My hind legs are up against my belly, and Fluttershy's own are supporting them from below, closing my cocoon.
Even if I wanted to, I don't think I could move. And even without my blindfold, I don't think I could see. I'm surrounded in all directions by Fluttershy, and she has a tight grip on me. Then again, I can't think of a better place to be imprisoned in.
The only thing I can hear clearly is a heartbeat, though whether it's hers or mine, I don't know. I would be surprised if my heart was still working after Fluttershy coursed so much electric euphoria through it. She has enough heart for the both of us, in any case.
I hear something different as a partially muffled voice reaches my ears from above. "I'm so proud of you, Rarity. You didn't think you could do it, but you did. You did so well. We had sex together, and it was lovely."
"Mrrgh . . . That wasn't sex; that was love," I murmur in a voice more ragged than I would like, robbing what would otherwise be a profound statement of some of its potency. It appears that my throat hasn't recovered from my screaming yet. That's never happened to me before.
Despite my voice, I continue. "Y-you proved to me that even that can't keep us apart, so strong is your love for me. Somehow, you found a way through. Thank you." I would prefer to kiss her on the lips, but without the means to do so, I settle for the collarbone. "Thank you, Fluttershy. My . . . my . . ." I struggle to think of a something to describe her until a familiar and fitting term comes to my mind. "My goddess."
I experience a bit of synesthesia as I see the blush on Fluttershy's face when she speaks: "Oh my, I-I'm not that."
I shake my head against Fluttershy's chest. She is in all ways: in compassion, in kindness, in ingenuity, and even perhaps in sex appeal . . . "You are. You came to save me when I thought there was no hope. And you gave me a gift so incredible that only the most divine of ponies could have given it. I am honored . . . No, I am blessed to have your love."
I can feel Fluttershy squirm a little around me. "Oh, Rarity, please, stop that! I'm-I'm not all that, really. I can't be! I'm just . . . I'm just Fluttershy."
Kind, divine, and humble, too. Though she can't see my face, I smile regardless. "And that is exactly why I am blessed," I whisper. I lean forward and give her another kiss on the collarbone. "I love you. You are truly a marvel."
"I love you too," Fluttershy says. She lays kisses on my head again, but the all the urgency is gone; they're but slow and sensual kisses of infinite affection. I sigh in relaxation and nuzzle her chest in response. I feel a shift, and Fluttershy brings a blanket over the two of us. The air grows warmer still.
We stay in this position for minutes. Fluttershy says nothing, save the occasional murmured "I love you" followed by a kiss on the forehead. She seems content to lay here with me until I fall asleep. And I would be perfectly willing to do just that if not for a single stubborn thought in my head. It's been quiet for a while now, silenced by my own will, but now, it's getting louder by the minute.
Though I am very happy, and thoroughly satisfied, I'm not quite . . . content. And in my soul, I know I won't be content until generosity finds its mark and Fluttershy is satisfied as well. Regardless of what she said before, she will find pleasure tonight. My heart, my soul, my raison d'être will make certain of that.
I lie in Fluttershy's all-encompassing embrace, remaining motionless while my mind is spinning. I want to satisfy her, but I can't simply jump into trying to do that without a plan. Heaven knows how poorly that went the first time I tried it.
Fluttershy moved heaven and earth to find a way to bring me pleasure, and I'll need to do something similar to work around my issues again. Just because she found a way to please me doesn't mean I've lost all my reservations about having sex with her. I certainly couldn't try the same thing she did: I don't have the skill, and I don't know if Fluttershy would be excited by it, either. Not to mention I'd need to lick her marehood to do it, and I don't think that's going to happen.
Scissoring is out of the question as well. The mere thought of my crotch ground up against hers is enough to turn me off to the idea. The grinding friction and the slathering of her slime against mine and. . . eugh. no, definitely not.
How, then? How may I pleasure Fluttershy in a way that won't offend me? In a way that works around my limitations? I can't touch it, and I can't lick it; frankly, I don't even want to see it. That . . . doesn't leave many options.
I hide a sigh of frustration. If I can't solve this problem, sex will always be a problem for us. Yes, Fluttershy may be happy now, but she won't be the third, fourth, fifth time she's left wanting. Eventually, if I can't help her, she'll have to appease her needs like a single mare on a lonely evening: forced to rub herself off by hoof or use a toy to help her along.
A . . . a toy? Would that work? I know she has some; every mare, much as any one would deny it, does. Suppose I used one with her and . . . Yes. Perhaps I can give her the pleasure that she and I both want.
"Fluttershy?" I say quietly.
"Hmm?"
I shift just a little to give my muzzle a little room to speak. "I'm happy. I'm so very happy right now, and it's all thanks to you. I want to give you that happiness back."
Fluttershy kisses my horn once. "You already have. You love me, and that makes me very happy."
Shaking my head, I unfold my hind legs and wriggle up out of her wings so that we are level with each other, eye-to-blindfolded-eye. "That's not what I meant," I say. "I'm happy. I'm content. I'm satisfied. But I know that you're not right now." I lean forward and plant a kiss . . . on the corner of her mouth (it's an improvement). "I want to fulfill that need. I want to give that happiness to you."
Fluttershy protests vehemently. "Nono, Rarity, please don't worry about me. We'll take care of it some other time, okay? Tonight, I'm fine—eep!"
Abruptly, I press the side of my hip into Fluttershy's crotch. As expected, it's still a little wet. I wince at the feeling; it’s impossible to get used to it.
"You're not," I say. "I can tell. Since you were so kind and gracious to find a way to pleasure me, I must and I will ensure that that you are not left unsatisfied tonight."
"Rarity . . ." She sounds concerned, pleading, and maybe a little exasperated. "Don't force yourself, please. I don't want to be happy if it will make you miserable. I won't let you."
Slowly, deliberately, I light my horn and lift my blindfold off of my eyes and onto my forehead. For what feels like the first time tonight, I look into Fluttershy's concerned and compassionate eyes with my own determined ones. "And I don't want to be happy if you are left wanting," I say quietly. "Please, let me do this. I want to try to give you at least half the pleasure you blessed me with. I promise, I will continue only as long as I feel comfortable, okay?
Fluttershy averts her eyes and bites her lip. It's clear that she's thinking about my proposal. After several moments of silent contemplation, she looks back at me and nods solemnly.
"Thank you." I nod and smile as warmly as I can. "Sweetheart, where is your toy box?"
A moment's hesitation, then Fluttershy points to the same dresser from which she retrieved the blindfold on my head. "F-first drawer," she says.
"Thank you." I slowly ease myself off of the bed and take a moment to stretch my legs. How is it that an evening of lying on a bed can leave me so sore? I relieve the worst of the discomfort and continue to the dresser that Fluttershy pointed to. I pull out the top drawer and survey the contents inside.
Among the panties and other undergarments in the drawer, some objects of passion lie: A bullet here, a small dildo there, some batteries, and a small bottle of lubricant rolling are around in the drawer. But in the very corner, sitting quietly but conspicuously, lies a strap-on dildo. Judging by its condition, it looks completely unused: expected, given that Fluttershy would have little use for a strap-on by herself. Perhaps it was just waiting for the perfect moment to be used. I take it out of the drawer along with the bottle of lubricant.
Keeping my back turned to Fluttershy, I sit down and slip the harness onto my hind legs. Once I pull it up as far as it will go, I stand up and shuffle the harness into place so it sits snugly over my own sex and covers it. Now I discover that the harness is made of a soft nylon, and the hilt of the dildo has a few well-placed nubs that poke into my coat and surround my clitoris. They feel strange enough now, but they lance further into my flesh and rub at my mound every time I move.
In my donning of the toy, it seems I've put on another inadvertent show for my marefriend. Behind me, I can hear Fluttershy's breaths getting progressively heavier as I shuffle about, trying to get used to the extra weight between my legs. This time, however, I welcome her attention. I shuffle around and swing my hips a bit more than strictly necessary, but the panting and little whimpers I hear in response are more than worth the superfluous sashaying.
As a final step, I open the bottle of lubricant and spread a generous supply of it over the faux-phallus attached to the harness, rendering the strap-on slick, shiny, and ready for play.
I turn around and face the bed. The first thing I notice are Fluttershy's wide eyes locked on me. They betray a number of emotions: caution, apprehension, but most of all, rekindled lust. It's an emotion that I've seen several times tonight. I'm sorry you had to wait so long, sweetheart, but soon, I will try to fulfill your desires.
My eyes track down to her mouth and the seemingly labored breaths coming from it. Father down and I see her chest heaving up and down, feeding her panting. She really is easily excited. A little farther down still, and I see—
Oh. It. It's winking and twitching obscenely, glazed over with slimy secretions. My stomach starts churning again of its own accord. I feel my left eyelid twitch as my gaze glues itself to thing and refuses to let go—
Quickly, I clench my eyes shut and shake my head vigorously. No. No! I won't let that creature beat me again! Sight has done nothing but cause me problems tonight, and memories of my time without it are nothing short of magical. I must keep myself in the dark, in more ways than one, to preserve that magic.
She is a mare, and she has the parts of a mare. But I can't let that keep me from sharing my love with her. Fluttershy is much more than her anatomy. She is a wonderful, compassionate, skilled, and sexy mare who figured out how to use my ears, of all things, to arouse me. She deserves everything I have to give. Including this.
And I won't let my eyes take that away from her!
With a final growl of determination, I draw the blindfold over my eyes once again and rob myself of my treacherous eyes. There, the blindfold will remain until the end of the night.
Rendered blind, I carefully make my way back onto the bed using touch alone. Once I bump into the bedframe, I put my forehooves on the mattress and hoist my hindquarters on the bed after them.
The moment I do that, however, my hips ram into something. Or, more accurately, the instrument attached to the harness attached to my hips rams into something. Fluttershy and I squeak simultaneously: she presumably at the cold and slippery contact, I at the unexpected stimulation. The nubs on the harness suddenly twist and rub at my clitoris. A spark of the familiar but not-at-all-unwanted comes from between my legs and washes over the rest of my body.
"Sorry, sweetheart," I say. "I've never done this before. Let me try this." I retreat and shift downwards a little, using my forehooves to gain my bearings. Once I find her thighs, I move closer, letting the phallus slip between her legs, just under her marehood. Fluttershy lets out a tiny squeak at the contact, and her hind legs spasm. I allow myself a small smile: soon enough, my lovely.
I shift my forehooves off of her thighs, crane my head upwards, and pucker my lips a little. Fluttershy takes the cue and matches my lips with her own: soft but insistent. She's pushing into my mouth rather aggressively, but this time, I'm more than willing to respond in kind, joining her in our mutual dance of not only affection, but now passion. She moans lightly into my mouth, and I moan in kind.
Our lips still locked together, Fluttershy parts her hind legs and brings them around me to draw our hips into closer contact. I gasp sharply . . . though not in disgust. I don't feel any wet patch of flesh against mine. Yes, our hips are touching, but her marehood is rubbing against the outside of the harness above the dildo, and mine is concealed underneath and covered completely by it. We are touching . . . but we don't touch at all. I summon my own hind hooves to lock her thighs in place, just as she is doing to me.
Fluttershy wiggles her hips a little. I shudder. That movement transfers into the dildo, into the nubs, into my clit, and shoots through my body again. I press forward and rub back, grinding the nylon of the harness into her folds. She gasps and moans more loudly into my mouth.
I smile at our new arrangement, curling my lips upwards against Fluttershy's own. With the strap-on between us, I don't have to touch or lick or even look at Fluttershy's sex . . . but I can bring her pleasure through it. I break from her lips just long enough to allow us both a breath; we plunge back into each other moments later. I tighten my hooves on her lower back, bringing her closer and bringing us into even more intimate contact. Whenever I stimulate her, she jerks and bumps the dildo between her legs, which stimulates me. I spasm myself in reciprocation, rubbing against Fluttershy, and the cycle of pleasure starts again.
"Oh, R-Rarity . . ." Fluttershy manages between her kisses, moans, and panting. Her words string along semi-coherently. "Are . . . are you—ooooh, goodness, Rarity, it's sommmph . . . Are-are you—"
"Speak up, sweetheart—aah!—I can't hear you!" I say between my own kisses and panting. The slightest rub from either of us is enough to excite us both, and the deliberate grind is enough to make us both writhe in pleasure.
"Are you—oh Rarity, please—enjoying this?"
Oh Fluttershy, what benevolence; even in the heat of excitement, you are concerned for my happiness and well-being . . . but your worry is unfounded. I smirk. "Absolutely!" I say, punctuating my statement with a hard grind into her marehood.
"Aah!" Fluttershy jerks forward and buries her muzzle inside my mane. I lean forward and lay her neck and collarbone with kisses to coax her head back out, all while moving my hips gently but insistently in little circles against Fluttershy's own.
Eventually, she comes back out of my mane. Another hard rub, however, and she plunges forward to capture my lips in a kiss, desperate to stifle her moaning.
Oh, sweetheart. Of course I don't want to hear your moans . . . I want to hear your screams. I pull away from her kiss, cease my gyrations, and say, "I know that you are enjoying this as well as I, Fluttershy. But I didn't put on a strap-on just to rub you off." Slowly, I move my hips away from hers, the dildo sliding smoothly out from between her thighs.
I scoot upwards just a little so that our hips are somewhat level, where the dildo should be aligned with her slit. Fluttershy squeaks again. Yes, I'm sure that some of the lubricant on the dildo may have been wiped off, but given my recipient's condition, I suspect that she has made plenty of her own at this point.
My hoof searches for her cheek. When it finds it, I say, "Are you ready, sweetheart?" It's more of a gesture than a real question. Her labored breathing, shudder on every exhale, and cloying musk of her arousal in the air are more than enough to tell me how she feels.
Thus, it comes as no surprise when Fluttershy draws a shaky breath and whispers, "Yes, Rarity. Please, make love to me."
I nod, replace my hoof on her back for some much-needed leverage, and drive forward smoothly . . . only to be stopped rather rudely when my hips aren't able to move more than a few inches before hitting what feels not unlike a wall. I pull back and retry, but again, I move forward only a little before I'm stopped. I push forward a little harder, and harness twists upwards painfully and advances no more.
Frowning, I retreat, the harness falling back down into place. That's why stallions talk of needing "good aim," I suppose. Given the blindfold over my eyes and my unwillingness to take it off, I can't tell whether the dildo is properly aligned with Fluttershy's vagina or not. "Uh, sweetheart?" I ask. "Would you mind helping me, um, line up?" I smile sheepishly.
"O-oh!" A shift on the bed as Fluttershy takes her hooves off my back and uses them to nudge the dildo down a fraction of an inch. I adjust my position accordingly.
I press forward, and I'm met with resistance once again, though it's less insistent this time. Bracing myself against Fluttershy's body, I drive forward again, and the resistance parts. I enter her forbidden folds in a single stroke.
Fluttershy squeals for the entire time I am moving. I moan in harmony with her sounds, feeling the resistance press and grind the nubs of the dildo into myself, white-hot lances of pleasure coursing through my body. Somehow, however, I keep the drive into her vagina somewhat smooth.
I stop only when I can go no further and the dildo has bottomed out inside her. I wait for Fluttershy to acclimate herself to the new sensations. She's tucked her head against my shoulders, and I can hear the shaking breaths she's drawing through her teeth. I won’t make the same mistakes that inexperienced lovers in my past did. Only when Fluttershy tells me that she is ready shall I proceed.
So we stay for a few minutes. Both my forehooves and hind hooves are wrapped fast around Fluttershy's form, locking the two of us together in closer contact than we have ever been in tonight. I don't see her marehood for obvious reasons, nor can it offend me directly touching mine.
The only thing I detect that's even mildly offensive is the distinctive thick scent of her emanating feminine arousal. Despite this, I'm glad that it's there; it means she's enjoying herself. She's not the only one, either. I can tell that at least half of the odor in the air is mine. The two scents intermingled invade the air and cling to our coats. If my screams tonight haven't informed Ponyville of our act yet, the tenacious musk of sex about us certainly will, come next morn.
Fluttershy's breaths are still heavy, but she's not breathing through her teeth anymore. "Sweetheart, are you alright?" I ask.
She takes her chin off of my shoulder and wiggles her hips around. I shiver. "Yes," she says.
"Are you ready to go on?"
"Almost." Another shuffle, then I feel a pair of lips capture my own in a tender kiss that I return in kind. When she pulls away, she says, "I love you, Rarity."
I chuckle good-heartedly. It is almost as if Fluttershy's doesn't know that those words don't need to be said anymore. Everything she does conveys that very message. Nevertheless, I respond, "I love you too."
Abruptly, I twist my hips and drive the dildo inside her just a little bit deeper. She spasms and squeals loudly. She's had her time to rest. I flash Fluttershy a vicious smile, one that foreshadows of the intense, unbearable pleasure I'm about to inflict on her. "So what say you to consummating our love in the best way possible and bringing this night to its conclusion?"
Fluttershy's lingering squeal falls into a guttural moan. When she recovers, she pecks me on a cheek, then again straight on the lips. She doesn't need to say anything for me to know what that means.
I roll on top of Fluttershy so I can get more leverage. I pull my hips back and carefully draw the dildo out of her vagina, though not all the way—I don't want to lose my place. Flexing my hooves in preparation for what is to come, I say, "On my mark. One,"
"Two," Fluttershy follows, wiggling her hips.
"Three!" We declare together as we thrust towards each other and meet explosively in the middle. We shout our joy to the world in two simultaneous cries of pure lust.
I pull back and drive down again and again, hard and full to ensure that Fluttershy feels every inch of the toy . . . every inch of me. Fluttershy responds to my thrusting with bucks of her own. The bed creaks in protest to our act.
My own drives into her are stimulating enough, but every buck, every twist, every movement that Fluttershy makes with her hips is reflected in the nubs and translated into additional pleasure. The sensation is luscious and distracting, but I fight to continue my thrusting. Moans and strangled cries of pleasure escape my throat, seemingly of their own accord.
Fluttershy, however, makes no attempt to restrain her voice: "O-ooh my goodness, Rar—nngah! You-yoou—oooohhh!" Fluttershy's vocalizations turn more and more incoherent with every additional thrust I make, and soon, she is squealing and squeaking sounds that bespeak of nothing but a mind overcome with rapture. I hear her wings flap against the bed clumsily.
"Yes, Fluttershy," I cry, "scream for me! Don't you dare hold back!" I manage through my own moans and cries of joy. I thrust into her harder and twist my hips, trying to push myself into places I've not been to before.
"aaaaAAAHHH!" The sounds from her throat reach several octaves above her usual voice. Her thrusts break tempo for a moment as she cries her joys to the heavens in a loud shriek.
The sounds only make me feel hotter and wetter. I have no illusions: the pony I am having sex with right now is a mare. But this mare is Fluttershy, my kind, forgiving, generous, sexy lover. And that is the reason why it feels so-oo good: a pony who already brought me joy once is doing everything she can to bring me to the same heights once again. And like everything that Fluttershy asks me of, I cannot deny her.
The pressure builds, faster than it did before. I thrust harder still, intent on bringing Fluttershy more joy so that she may soon crest her peak of pleasure. But the paradox of sex attacks me: the harder I thrust, the more joy I bring Fluttershy . . . but the more joy I bring myself. Quickly, all too quickly, the peak of my pleasure approaches, and I can't back away from the precipice in time.
"G-gah!" The first wave of orgasm catches me unexpectedly, and I jerk involuntarily. The second, third, fourth arrive in quick succession, the waves breaking on me and washing away my mind's capacity for higher thought. It's all I can do to keep thrusting, albeit uncoordinatedly.
Somewhere in my pleasure-addled brain, I realize that Fluttershy has not peaked with me yet, and that is a problem that I can't let go unremedied. Awash in my tides of pleasure, I forget about my reservations and all the problems I had this night. There is no room for worry when pleasure is all that matters. Impulsively, I bring a forehoof down to Fluttershy's marehood to rub at her clitoris.
She squeaks and jerks sharply; I know that I'm doing something right. While my own euphoric waves continue, I continue to thrust into her vigorously and scrub at her mound feverishly. Soon, Fluttershy's own thrusts become jerky.
As my pleasure begins to wane, I coax Fluttershy's to grow. Even as my orgasm fades away, I continue to thrust and rub at her body. Several seconds after the last waves of my orgasm leave my body, I feel every one of Fluttershy's muscles tense. I know what's coming next, and I brace for impact, thrusting my hips as hard as I possibly can against hers, burying myself deep inside her.
A beat of silence.
"GYYAHHH!" A scream higher and louder than any of Fluttershy's previous cries attacks my ears so viciously that I'm forced to fold them down. She spasms and bucks into me hard, forcing both of our hips to bounce off the bed for a moment. Strands of her mane slap my face as she thrashes her head around on the bed. I bring my hoof up from her clitoris and use all four of my legs to wrap her up tightly to lock her forehooves against her sides and her hind hooves against mine; I'm actually afraid that she may hurt herself in her throes of orgasm if I don't restrain her. Her wings snap against the bed like whips, the only appendage of hers that I can't reach.
Another scream, another buck, and a redoubling of my embrace as I ride through Fluttershy's storm of pleasure and hold on for dear life, hoping that I don't get thrown off like a seapony at the mercy of the waves.
After the first few spasms, every subsequent convulsion of hers is a little weaker. After an uncountable number of waves, Fluttershy shudders once, then falls limply to the bed, all the tension in all her muscles gone.
I loosen my hooves, roll off to her side, pull the phallus out of her ravaged sex, and survey the damage.
The flesh behind the harness is now completely drenched in my productions, and the outside is almost certainly saturated with Fluttershy's. I feel a rather large veneer of moisture covering my belly, thighs, and even my withers. Given how . . . unrestrained Fluttershy was in her throes, I have a fairly good guess for where that fluid came from. One of my hooves also feels decidedly much slimier than the other one; I certainly know how that came about. I can't imagine how ghastly our bodies look down there, but in any case, I don't have the energy to feel disgust. All I feel is . . . happiness that it happened at all, satisfaction that my lust has been quenched, and of course, contentment that Fluttershy's is as well.
I feel a pair of lips against mine. Fluttershy is kissing me, though she makes no attempt to even part her lips. I press forward in return, though I don't open my mouth either. We hold the kiss for several minutes, neither of us having the necessary energy to break it.
When Fluttershy finally finds the means to do so, I feel her nuzzle into my shoulder affectionately next. She whispers two words to me: "Thank you."
"Thank you," I whisper back. I shuffle closer and fit the dildo still attached to my hips between Fluttershy's legs once again so that we can lie close to each other. I bring my forehooves and hind hooves around her once again so that we are hip-to-hip, chest-to-chest, face-to-face. It's the most intimate hug two ponies could find themselves in.
Fluttershy wraps her hind legs about mine in reciprocation. But instead of feeling her forehooves about my barrel like I expected, I feel them on my face instead. Slowly and deliberately, they move, taking the blindfold off my face. Only then do they find their way to my barrel.
Fluttershy's face is all I can see, but it's all that I need to see. Her mane is disheveled and her coiffure has been obliterated. I don't want to know what has happened to mine. Her eyes are weary and reveal a mare who has expended all her energy. But her mouth is curled into a soft, subtle, and spellbinding smile.
She is happy. And so am I.
She draws me in for another weary kiss. When we finish, she moves her mouth away but stays close. I feel her warm breath escape from her mouth when she murmurs, "Thank you, Rarity. This is exactly what I wanted. I'm so glad we did this together, and I'm sorry I assumed too much when we began."
"I forgive you," I return quietly. "It just took a bit of . . . experimentation for us to find the right arrangement. But we found a way, and I thank you for putting up with my problems and changing my mindset. You persevered when I gave up, and you proved to me that you don't need to be male to excite me." I release my breath in a soft sigh. "There is nothing I could give that would adequately repay you your kindness."
Fluttershy shakes her head in a tiny gesture and closes her eyes while the smile remains on her face. With great effort, she heaves a wing from behind back and uses it to cover us both. I was mistaken: this is the most intimate hug imaginable. I wiggle my shoulders and tuck the wing around myself.
Fluttershy's breaths gradually slow, and her heartbeat quiets to match. Her last words are spoken to me so quietly that I can barely hear them: "You gave me your love."
The smile on her face fades slowly and is replaced with a serene line. "F-Fluttershy?" I ask with my own weary voice.
No answer. She's fallen asleep. I can't blame her, really: with the both of us thoroughly satisfied and utterly exhausted, there's nothing left to do. I can feel the claws of fatigue making their way to my eyelids as well. The strap-on is still attached to my hips, and we’re both still quite filthy, but I fear the harness will stay on and our bodies will remain unwashed until morning.
Before I surrender to sleep, however, I think about all we've accomplished in our time together. We've meditated, we've cried, we've forgiven, we've dated, and we've made love. I wouldn't call the bond between us friendship anymore, but it has grown from that into something truly remarkable.
That bond is strong, devastatingly so. It doesn't matter that she is a mare. I love her, every part of her, and while I might enjoy the masculine side of things as a rule, I would never even consider giving her up for such base pleasure. I am sure that any stallion could rut me. But no stallion, no mare, no pony—save one—could make love with me.
Fluttershy, I . . . you've always been indescribable in my eyes. I could spend the rest of my life trying to deserve your love, and I don't know if I would ever succeed. But if you really think it is enough . . . You will have my devotion, my money, my body, my soul, my love until the day I die.
"Goodnight, Fluttershy," I whisper, though I know that she can't hear me. All the better, perhaps—anything that could come from my mouth couldn't possibly convey more than a tiny fraction of the feelings I have for her. I search out a blanket that hasn't fallen off the bed and pull it over us. Then I lean forward . . . and give her a gentle kiss straight on the lips.
"I love you,” I whisper, and they’re the last words I say against her lips before letting sleep take me. Luna willing, we will mingle in our dreams.
