> The Cutie Mark Crusaders Are Hot Guys And Diamond Tiara Is Thirsty As Hell
>  by Neon Czolgosz
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Bad Girl: The Applebuck Chapter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Applebuck tiptoed across the mess-strewn floor, turned around, and sat back on Diamond Tiara’s unmade bed. The winter sunlight hit the thin curtains, coating the room in a dull glow. He kicked off his sneakers, ran a hand through his red mop of hair, and waited.

There was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” he said.

The door opened, and Diamond Tiara stepped inside, carrying a tray. She closed the door behind her, and stayed still, her gaze cast downward. She could feel the teenage boy on her bed leering at her, and it already burned her cheeks.

“Set that tray down on the bed, then get yerself ready,” he drawled. 

She didn’t need to look up at him to know he was smirking. Silently, she approached the bed, placed the cloth-covered tray at his side, and began to strip. She undid her $50 belt, unbuttoned and shrugged off her designer blouse, dropped her skirt, stepped out of her flats, and stood up straight. The only thing she still wore were a pair of cotton panties with ‘Daddy’s Little Girl,’ written on the front.

Applebuck looked her over. He knew his former nemesis, current friend, and occasional lover was stunning, but it still surprised him. Slender eyelashes framed her blue eyes, her brows were plucked with surgical precision, a touch of blush graced her cheeks, and her lips were painted a deep, seductive red. Her purple hair was tied back in a chignon, with a white-frosted lock falling across her forehead.

It was almost enough to make him forget she had a body to die for too.

She went on her knees and leaned forward, resting her cheek on the denim of Applebuck’s jeans, nuzzling his thigh ever so slightly. He reached down to stroke her head, and she made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a purr.

His voice was softer, now. “What can I do for you, Di?”

For a moment, she said nothing. Then, “I’ve... been bad. I’ve been bad, again.”

“Yeah?”

Her face flickered through a sneer, a ‘hmph,’ and an expression of guilt. “I feel bad about it.”

“So what did you do?” His fingers kept on stroking her face.

She sighed, and then said, “I got Pipsqueak in trouble with his parents for drinking, ruined Silvy’s makeup bag, and accidentally set Ditzy Doo’s couch on fire.”

“What can I do for you, then?”

“...Make the guilt go away? Please?”

If she had looked up at that moment, she would have seen a hint of Applebuck’s big, dumb smile at the edge of his lips.

“I think I can help. First things first, which couch did ya burn?”

“Yellow.”

“Oof. Okay, okay, up you get. Get your brush and your thinking stone, and assume the position.”

She rose, wordlessly, and removed the cloth covering the tray. It bore a dozen objects, sticks, tawses, creams, and straps. Diamond picked out two objects, a wood-backed hairbrush, and a travel-sized soap bar. Grimacing, she took the soap, opened her mouth, and held it between her teeth. She cringed at the stinging, alkaline taste of her ‘thinking stone.’ She’d be feeling the sharp soap scent in the back of her throat for a while, she knew. Blinking tears from her eyes, she held out the hairbrush, which Applebuck took from her, and then laid over his lap. She could feel the rough denim on her belly, and he already had a calloused hand resting on her butt.

Diamond took a shaky breath through her nose as his hand squeezed her plush, squishy ass, taking the time to grope one cheek, and slipping over her white cotton panties to the other.

Crack!

She squealed around the soap as the first hit took her by surprise, barehanded, light and snappy. Her heart beat fast as shame and desire burned deep within her core. She quivered, torn between scrambling away from the boy who was going to beat her, and propping her butt up higher to give him better access.

“That’s jes’ me getting my bearings...” he said, soft as a lullaby. 

She stared down at the mess on her floor. Rustling came from the bed, and she knew that he had just picked up the hairbrush. When he laid the cool wood of the back on her ass, she ground her thighs into each other involuntarily.

This was going to hurt.

The first five hits came one after the other, each smack dull and solid, smack after smack on one cheek and then the other, soft, pale chub rippling out under each smack, until the final smack had landed. She barely registered it until it was over, her eyes going wide, her whole back arching and flailing like a drunken trapeze artist, making a noise that was half-cough, half-neigh. Her struggles brought her nowhere, as Applebuck’s hand rested firmly on her lower back.

“No runnin’ now, Di,” he said. He placed the back of the hairbrush against her now-pink butt, ignoring her as she flinched, and used it to rub a gentle circle. “You know what you’re doing here, and you know it ain’t gonna be none easier if you don’t get it over with. Ain’t that right?”

“Mhm-hmm!” She cringed as the soap stung her tongue.

“Now, you got Pipsqueak in trouble with his ma and pa. That ain’t right, and you know it. He’s a soft boy, gets real torn up about stuff like that. I heard he cried about it. You feel sorry about that?”

She nodded.

“And Silvy’s your best friend, so I’m sure you feel bad about messing up her stuff, that right?”

Again, she nodded.

“You ready to prove you’re sorry?”

For a moment, she did nothing. Then, she nodded.

“Well, alright then.”

Applebuck worked in bursts, anywhere from five to fifteen blows one after the other with a boxer’s speed, too fast to count between them. After each set, he’d pause, tapping or groping Diamond’s butt as she squeaked and whimpered. The pause was important, just enough respite between sets of blows that they could never blend together, two or three seconds to absorb the pain, another few seconds to realize it had stopped, the next blow landing at the exact moment she started to fear the next set.

The first five blows had been too much of a shock to really register. When he landed the next twelve, the surge of adrenaline gave her squeals and struggles a note of indignation, which died down during the rest. The crying began just before the next set, but Applebuck caught the notes of played-up pleading between each blow as he continued the spanking, the same wheedling tone she used when she wanted a new dress from her father. He gave her a longer break, not out of mercy, but to allow her adrenaline to fade, and let her marinate in the fear of the next set.

When he hit her again, her sobs became real. He gave no rest for the next fifteen blows, letting her bawl and sob without restraint. Her whole body shook, not from the force of the hits, but from her now-hysterical crying. There was a soft thud as the bar of soap fell from her mouth to the floor, and she let out a series of hoarse, unfeminine sobs.

Applebuck chuckled softly, and set the brush aside for a moment. He rested one palm on her ass, which was now a deep, angry red, and leaned down to pick up the fallen soap with his free hand. He pressed the lathered lump against her lips, but her teeth were chattering too hard as she blubbered to accept it. He pinched her bruised ass hard, and twisted, and as soon as she opened her mouth to scream he shoved the soap back in, holding it in place until he felt the crying girl bite down enough to secure it.

This time he gave her the longest rest yet, until the sobbing died down into snivelling, and she wiggled and settled to present him a fine target for spanking. The last five smacks were practically a formality. Her resistance was gone, her fires had burned, and she was ready to simply allow the last blows to rain on the embers of her guilt.

He set the brush down for the final time, and pressed his palm into the purple-red flesh of her butt, eliciting a whimper.

“You can let go’ve your thinkin’ stone now,” he said.

“Plflegh!”

As she laid in place, unmoving, Diamond Tiara could feel three things. She could feel a trail of foam running down her chin where her sobbing and saliva had mixed with the soap to form an astringent lather. She could feel a hot, slick patch between her legs, slippery and sinful, soaking right through her panties and running almost halfway down her thighs to her knees. And she could feel a hard, thick lump through Applebuck’s jeans, pressing up into her soft belly.

She squirmed.

Applebuck grasped her by the shoulders, and gently shifted her off his lap until she was face-down on her bed, with her legs hanging over the edge and her bruised ass in the air. He proffered a bottle of water to her lips. She took a mouthful, swished it, and let the soapy water dribble out of her lips and over her chin. Then, she took it in her mouth a second time and drank greedily, eager to replace what had been lost from sweat and tears.

The covers creased as Applebuck laid down beside her. She turned her head to look right into his golden eyes. “You feelin’ better?” he asked.

“...A little.”

“A little? You still feel kinda bad?”

“Yeah,” she sniffled.

“Is it about Ditzy’s couch?”

“Yeah.”

His mouth quirked up into a gentle smile. 

“Okay,” he said, and then after a moment, “I can help with that, but I don’t wanna risk any more hurting on your cute lil’ tushy. I know what I’m gonna do to you, it’s gonna be short and sweet and it’s gonna hurt like the dickens. Is that what you want, Di?”

She gave a brave smile, a tear trickling down the side of her face, staining her duvet with mascara. “Uh-huh.”

Applebuck planted a quick kiss on her forehead, then stood up off the bed.

“First thing you need to do is roll onto your back.”

Diamond did as she was told, wincing as her spanked-raw ass pressed into the cool sheets.

“Now, you’ll need the panties off for this one.”

As her hands moved to her hips, she paused as she felt an inexplicable pang of shame, but continued on to hook her thumbs under the sides of her underwear. She brought her knees up to her chest, giving Applebuck a peach-shaped eyeful of her butt. The skin around her groin and thighs glistened with moisture. Her panties were drenched, the white cotton now translucent with her juices.

She held eye contact with him as she peeled her panties off. As they slipped down her thighs, an unbroken line of her juices connected between her slit and the fabric for a moment before snapping. Once they were off, she placed the sodden panties on the bed within arm’s reach—sometimes, Applebuck would tell her to suck on them.

He had different plans for today. “Grab your ankles, and spread your knees apart.”

Her breasts, belly, and sopping pussy were now on display for him. She felt the slightest prickle of ankle stubble under her palms, felt a brief burst of embarrassment at the fact, and then the tension of anticipation.

The clink of the buckle as he removed his belt made her breath catch in her throat.

He folded the length of leather in half, took a firm grip around the buckle-and-end, took the folded end in his other hand, and brought it up to kiss the bend in the leather. Then, he let the belt hang loose, dangling from his grip, and moved it until the tip just barely touched Diamond Tiara’s sex.

“You ready, Di?”

She shook her head.

His muscled arm relaxed barely perceptibly. “You want out?”

Again, she shook her head.

“Ask for it.”

Diamond Tiara cleared her throat. “Pl—”

The crack was louder than her scream.

Applebuck unfolded the belt, feeding the leather through his fingers and through the loops on his jeans, the buckle clinking as the girl before him sobbed hysterically. He took a moment to adjust his jeans and straighten his t-shirt before turning his attention to Diamond Tiara, who was curled up hugging her knees, legs clenched together so tightly that her feet were shaking. When he knelt down next to her and stroked her cheek, she grabbed his wrist in both hands and held on like a lifeline.

He bent down, planting little kisses on her jaw, cheek and ear. “You did real good, Di,” he whispered, “I’m real proud of you. You looked me in the eye and took it like a woman, and ain’t nobody can ask any more than that.”

Diamond Tiara couldn’t talk through her tears, but kissed his wrist as she cried.

“Good girls get a treat. Are you ready for your treat?”

She nodded, eyes scrunched shut. “Mhm-hmm...”

He left the bed, and for a moment all that Diamond Tiara could hear through her sniffles was the sound of the boy rooting around in her bedside table. He took out a plastic tub of balm. It was clearly a new tub, but as he opened it up to scoop some out into his man-sized fingers, two-thirds had already been used.

Wordlessly, Diamond Tiara rolled onto her belly, splaying out her legs and nuzzling the pillow. Her breath quirked excitedly as she heard him rubbing the cream between his fingers. He shuffled over, and with a grunt, began to rub the balm into her skin.

“Oh.”

She cooed at his touch. The balm was wonderfully cool, dampening the burning ache that the beating had left as he rubbed it into her buttocks. He was thorough and gentle, his hands gliding over her skin, never dragging, frequently pausing to dig out more balm. He was in no hurry. Her flesh still stung, but there was something blissfully cathartic about it now, as if all the fire and pain was being leached out into his fingers.

Her inner thighs twitched involuntarily, and she became aware of a different fire.

“Mhmmhm...”

His hands continued to soothe her.

“Mhmmhm!”

The hands paused. “Uh,” he said, “What was that, Di?”

She let the pillow she’d been biting slip from her teeth, turned her head, and said, “It d-doesn’t feel so bad there any more.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You can m-move somewhere else if you want...”

“Uh-huh...”

His hands continued to rub her bright-red ass.

She scowled.

“Applebuck!”

“Uh-huh?”

He was grinning. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it.

“Applebuck move your fingers Applebuck!”

The teenage boy leant down, hands still on her ass, until his lips were an inch from her ear. “Show me where...”

Diamond Tiara rolled over with embarrassing enthusiasm, spreading her legs wide and staring up at him with a blend of determination and desperation. The trails of mascara running down her cheeks couldn’t detract from the shining need in her eyes. 

“So,” he whispered, “Little Di just—”

She grabbed his wrist in both hands and dragged it between her legs.

“Please!”

Applebuck wrapped his free arm over her back and pulled her close. Her face pressed into his, soft skin scratched by teenage stubble, lips in search of a kiss. As his fingers touched her sex his tongue slipped between her lips. She moaned softly into the kiss.

His touch was light, careful rather than teasing, not pushing against her each time she ground her hips forward but not shying away. His fingers were soaked within seconds, her lips puffy, pink and sopping wet. Every twitch of his fingers sent shudders through her body and moans from her mouth, and she clung to him, thighs closing around his hand, her own arms wrapped around his chest and pulling him in tight.

She broke the kiss as his middle finger slipped inside her.

“Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck fuck—”

Her hands grabbed at his shirt, balling the fabric up in bunches as she scrambled for purchase. Had he been undressed, her nails would be digging into his back, leaving raw, red scratches all across his skin, hard enough to bleed. She’d done it before. She’d done it often enough in fact that the balm had originally been for him, something for Diamond to rub into his muscular shoulders in the morning after a long night of fucking. Here, she could only grab and grasp, eyes scrunched shut and mouth wide open, not even the presence of mind to hold a kiss. 

Applebuck pushed in a second finger. Even as wet as she was, it was a tight fit. She let out a keening sound, arching her neck and back even as she clung to him. He could smell the perfume and sweat on her outstretched neck, and thought it a tempting spot for a hickey. As he leaned in for a lovebite, all she could do was gasp.

She released her deathgrip, and ran her hands through Applebuck’s red hair. “More more I need more...”

Slow and measured, he began to pump his fingers in and out. While Bel Canto had the slender fingers of a pianist and Scoots’ hands were as lithe as the rest of him, Applebuck had hands as big and strong as a thirty-year old dockworker’s. Diamond Tiara had seen dicks smaller and thinner than Applebuck’s fingers. She’d pointed and laughed instead of touching said dicks, but still...

She moved her hips back and forth to meet his fingers, and tried to focus on kissing his neck and nipping at his ear. Her efforts were for naught, turning into desperate squeaks and moans as he pressed his hand into her, his palm applying gentle pressure to her clit.

There was no holding back. He caught her in another kiss as she climaxed for the first time, the velvety-hot walls of her pussy squeezing his fingers, her legs making twitchy little kicking motions. She pulled his hair and bit his lip, but he was too focused on pleasuring her to notice the pain.

He let her ride it out, her breathing slowly settling down, her eyes opening and blinking lazily, cheeks red and limbs shaky, his fingers stilled. Once she had the awareness to pepper a few kisses on his cheek, his fingers started moving again, faster this time. It didn’t take long for her to hit her second orgasm.

Or her third.

Half an hour later, she was cuddled up next to Applebuck, gently sucking on his fingers which were now long-clean of her juices. Her ass was sore, her legs were jelly, and every sensation had a warm, golden fuzz around it. She’d be happy to stay there all week.

It wasn’t so bad, being a bad girl.
> Teenage Dirtbags: The Scootaroll Chapter
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Diamond Tiara couldn’t even remember what this talk was supposed to be about. The motivational speaker spoke with a slow, ponderous tone that made every word feel like it was laced with valium. Was it about abstinence? Entrepreneurship? Staying out of prison? Abstinence in prison? The joys of ketamine?

The late spring humidity made it even worse. The air was thick, thick enough to slow down every word, each sound softening around the edges as if heard through a glass door. She stared dimly at the man, and every time she blinked, she forgot what he looked like.

She marvelled at the acoustics of the school gymnasium as the speaker paused to take a drink, and she heard every glug as he gulped down the tepid water. A bead of sweat ran down the patch of skin above his lip, before catching on a hair he’d missed in his morning shave.

She’d skipped breakfast. Of course she had.

“But at your age, the greatest thing to invest in is your own character,” he droned, his words idly slapping against her like a blizzard of chloroform-soaked diapers.

How long had it been since he’d started talking? It felt like three days. She felt like she would check her makeup in the mirror and see a full head of grey hairs, and her classmates roaming the halls in zimmerframes and slippers. She felt like she was trapped in someone else's time loop.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t that long. But it had to be like, eleven thirty by now?

She looked down at her phone. 9.20. She’d been listening to him for twenty minutes.

...She’d walked in five minutes late. Fifteen minutes.

All she could do was sigh softly.

As the man spoke bland nothings about the virtues of commitment, she silently cursed Silver Spoon for not being there. At least she’d have had someone to pass notes back and forth to, or snicker at the obvious mustard stain on the speaker’s tie. To her right was Snips, gazing on slack jawed, and to her left was Archer, checking out her own biceps. She might as well have been at a zoo.

She had slumped in her seat, letting the tranquilizer-laced voice wash over her, when something tapped against the back of her head. She blinked. Then another thing.

Someone behind her was throwing balled up bits of paper at her.

She slowly craned her neck to see her assailant with murder in her eyes, and saw Scootaroll looking staring down at her, unfazed.

He put two slender fingers to his lips, miming ’smoke?’

She pondered for a moment, decided it was far better than staying here, and gave a nod.

Diamond didn’t even make a pretense of heading towards the bathrooms. She quietly excused herself to Cheerilee and then made a beeline for the wood shop, finding an alcove where it met the main school building. It smelled of cigarette smoke, and there were half a dozen cigarette butts on the ground. She leaned against the one whitewashed wall and stared into the brick one three feet away, her ears perking up a minute later as she heard footsteps on the asphalt.

“Sup.”

Scoots slipped into the alcove, his back to the brick wall. He stretched his neck for a moment, his tight white t-shirt clinging to his toned, skinny chest. If it wasn’t coated in engine oil and dirty handprints, he’d have looked like a model at a photo shoot. Diamond’s eyes only lingered on the way the fabric clung to his six-pack for a second and a half.

“Hey.”

Scoots grinned. “That fuckin’ guy, right?”

“Fuck.” Diamond groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I was losing the will to breathe in there.”

“Tell me about it. You got a smoke?”

Diamond glared at him. “Have I got a whomst? You asked me to come with you for a smoke, you scabby shit!”

He shrugged, a sullen look briefly crossing his features. “I don’t get paid till tomorrow.”

“And? So?”

“So I’m outta smokes.”

Diamond pulled her stainless-steel cigarette holder out from her handbag and flipped it open. There was a single cigarette inside, a high-end menthol filter. She pulled it out, still glaring at him.

“I,” she growled, “have one cigarette on me.”

“Cool.” He grinned sheepishly. “Share?”

An evil smirk crossed Diamond’s face. “Maybe I should keep the whole thing to myself to teach you not to bum smokes off your friends.”

“Aw, c’mon, just a few drags...”

“I think it would be more fun to smoke it in front of you, until I’m burning the damn filter.”

Scoots sighed and shrugged. “Fine, if that’s what you wanna do, it’s your choice.”

Diamond’s eyes narrowed. “You’re trying to reverse psychology me. I wasn’t going to do it, but just for that, I will.”

“I can’t stop you.”

“Fucking right you can’t,” she said, rifling through her bag for a lighter. She patted down her jacket pockets when she couldn’t find it, her scowl deepening as she ran out of pockets to pat.

“Looking for your lighter?”

“What did you do with it?”

“Nothing.” He smirked. “Saw you leave it on your desk before we all went to the gym, though.”

“You could have told me!”

“Must’ve slipped my mind. Need a light, Di?” His hand dropped to the pocket of his cargo shorts and fished out a zippo. All around the edges and corners the nickel plating had rubbed away to reveal brass underneath. Each side had three marks gouged into the metal like a tiger’s claws. He rolled it over his fingers like a card sharp with a playing chip.

“There’s probably nobody in the classroom, you know,” said Diamond, “I could just get my lighter and smoke my cigarette...”

That insufferable smirk never left his face, the lighter still flowing across his fingers. “Sure.”

Diamond glared for a moment longer, then placed the cigarette between her lilac-glossed lips. In her mind she could already feel the tingle of menthol. Her cravings doubled in an instant.

She raised her eyebrows and gave him an impatient look. “Well? Are you gonna give me a light or what?”

The lighter flicked open, and both pairs of eyes were momentarily drawn to the flicker of the flame. Scoots held it beneath the tip of her cigarette, the flames dancing over white paper until the end bloomed a street-lamp orange. She took a few puffs as Scootaloo pulled the lighter away, and exhaled a cloud of mint-laced smoke as he pocketed it.

“You do not even--” she paused to take a deep drag, making the tiniest crackle of burning tobacco as she sucked in through it, “--have any idea how much I needed this.” She slumped back against the wall, the tension and anger draining from her face. “However much you’re thinking it’s way more than that, even after you know that it’s way more than that.”

“You look stressed. Not enough caviar for breakfast this morning?”

“I’m not stressed, I’m bored! Bored out of my fucking mind.” She pouted. “And I don’t even like caviar. That shit’s like slimy, fishy couscous.”

“You’ll fuckin’ love the next speaker. I saw the schedule, he’s a doctor who dresses as a clown.”

“He was here last year.”

The smirk returned. “Aw c’mon, it’ll pick you right up.”

“But Scoots, Pagliacci sucks!”

He laughed softly, and his eyes were drawn back to the cigarette. “Gimme a drag?”

“Your mom is a drag,” spat Diamond, but she took the cigarette between her index and middle finger, took it from between her lips, and reached up to place it between Scootaloo’s lips. He accepted it gratefully, and took a few puffs.

He closed his eyes as he exhaled the first time, opening them as he asked, “Where’s Silvy?”

She shrugged and grimaced. “I can’t remember. Why should I know where she is? And I don’t care where she is, also.”

“Open day at University of Manehattan, huh?”

“Yeah, maybe, so what? I don’t fuckin’ care that she’s there, abandoning me, and not here.” Her eyes darted up to stare at him. “How’d you figure that, anyway?”

“Bel Canto said they were on the coach together.” His carefree grin tightened ever-so-slightly.

Diamond’s glare softened. “Bel’s there too, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s looking at the music school up there.” Scoots stretched his arms and shoulders awkwardly, the cigarette dangling from his lips as he did. “It’s no biggie y’know, he’s looking around a few places, trying to find where’s best for him ‘n shit...”

“Huh. I didn’t see Applebuck today, is he--”

“Nah, bucho is off at Fillydelphia Tech with Rumble.” A sour note crept into his voice. “I love A.B., but I don’t how someone with so many muscles can be such a goddamn nerd. Doesn’t feel right, y’know?” He took a last puff and passed the cigarette back.

“I feel you,” she said, taking the offered cigarette and taking a drag. “Like really, it’s not that I, y’know, mind or anything, it’s not like I won’t be scouting some places out myself--

“Yeah,” he said quickly, “uh, same here.”

“--and I get that this is normal and stuff but I just fuckin...”

“Wish they weren’t doing it on bore-everyone’s-dick-off day?”

“Hah, yeah.” She exhaled through her nose, closing her eyes and reveling in the fuzzy, burning sensation in her sinuses.

A scuffing sound came from nearby. Both teenagers froze in place. Scoots peered around the brick corner of the alcove, sighed, and slumped back inside. “Just the janitor.”

Diamond nodded, knowing full well that the only thing the janitor would bother either of them for was a spare cigarette. “You think they’ve noticed we’re gone yet?”

“Why, you keen to get back?”

“Ew, no!”

“It’s group exercises next. Trust falls ‘n shit.”

“Ugh.” The cigarette was down to the final third. “Shit, wanna partner up? I can not end up with Snips again.”

“It’s all picked out in advance, saw the sheet on Cheerilee’s desk. You’re with Twist.”

“What? That’s even worse! Fuck Twist!”

Another smirk. “Way ahead of ya.”

“That is not something you want to brag about.”

“Jeez, what’s wrong with Twist?”

“She’s got a voice like a cheese-grater, she smells like diabetes, and her hands are always... sticky.” Diamond shuddered. “Like a child.”

“You went to her party.”

“Yeah? So?” Grudgingly, she passed the cigarette over

“I think you just miss Silvy.”

“Fuck off. That’s fucking uncalled for,” she said, taking a short, sharp drag.

“Sorry.”

“Too fucking right,” she spat, “I mean fuck, I don’t fucking say, I don’t fucking know, that you’re acting like an aloof, smarmy too-fucking-tall fuck-off prick because your two best fucking friends are going off and doing things at fuckin’ prestigious institutions and you’re here, stuck in fucking Ponyville smoking half a fuckin’ cigarette before you go listen to boring fucks and fuck up some fuckin’ trust falls with someone who still fuckin snacks on paste, do I?

She exhaled too fast, coughing slightly, and glared at him. “I don’t do that, because I’m fuckin’ polite. Unlike you.”

“Jeez, okay...” He shrunk back against the wall with a wounded look, and nursed the cigarette.

“‘I think you just miss Silvy,” she repeated mockingly, fists balled together in anger. She looked away from him sharply, a lock of her hair falling from her bun to whip her cheek. Her eyes closed and then her whole body sagged, her hands falling open. “Shit. Scoots, I’m...”

He shrugged. “It’s cool.”

“Yeah. Fuck it, we’ve been out here forever. Lets finish up and go back in.”

Scoots said nothing for a moment, the cigarette between his fingers, his eyes locked on the orange glow. His face hardened. “No.”

“Huh?”

“No, I got a better idea.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s a great idea. It’s so fuckin’ good in fact that you’re not getting it for free,” he said, taking a long drag.

“What do you--hey!” she snapped as the last inch of the cigarette burned away rapidly, flaring up from the entire lungfull of air that Scoots was pulling through it. The flame snuffed out as it hit the filter, a wisp of white smoke dancing off the surface before Scoots flicked the butt onto the asphalt.

Diamond goggled at him. “You stole... my last--my last--drag...”

He smirked at her, mouth clamped shut, and shook his head. He stepped forward, barely an inch of space between their bodies, close enough that she had to crane her neck up to glare at him. He placed his right hand just behind her ear and rested it there.

Diamonds cheeks were suddenly very warm. She didn’t flinch. “You owe me a drag, bitch.”

She let her mouth fall open as he pressed his lips to hers, inhaling greedily as he exhaled a lungful of smoke into the kiss. Their chests pressed together, warm in the humid heat, uncomfortably, prickly-hot warm, but Diamond only wanted him closer. Her hands went to his hips, slim and skinny, and he twitched in surprise at the touch the same way he always did when she’d first touch him.

They didn’t break from their smoke kiss, breathing back and forth as they pawed at each other, white wisps escaping from between their lips as they shared it. After a minute, they pulled apart, the last of the smoke leaving their lungs. Diamond felt out of breath, a little dizzy from the nicotine and lack of air. She could see Scoots breathing hard too, his light-brown cheeks tinted red.

She placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating hard. He went in for a second kiss. Longer, softer. Petting her hair with one hand and haltingly reaching forward to feel her breasts with the other. His tongue slipping between her soft, gloss-slicked lips. She suppressed a giggle as she pushed her tongue back against his. Scoots, brash and bold and spiky, yet timid as a virgin bride whenever this happened.

She grabbed his hand and pushed it harder against her tits with a tiny growl. When he squeaked in surprise, his hips grinding forward in unthinking anticipation, she bit his bottom lip and pushed him against the wall. Her free hand went up his t-shirt, feeling the bumps of his abs, the small, sinewy muscles on his bare chest, his ribcage as it rose and fell with his every breath. Lithe, strong and athletic, yet putty in her capable hands.

For now, at least...

Diamond broke the kiss, her face still pressed against his, both holding their embrace. She returned for a peck on the lips, and took a step backwards. By the time she opened her eyes, Scoots had salvaged his smirk, though the blush on his cheeks betrayed it somewhat.

Her hand still rested on his tanned forearm. “You suck less at kissing than you used to. Been practicing on your pillow?”

He laughed. “Whatever you say, Miss Teen Vogue.”

“Applebuck is better, though.”

“He’s also better at kissing than you are, Di, but I don’t gotta make pointed comparisons about it.”

“Fuck off, I’m the best and everyone knows it. Anyway,” she said, “what’s this idea? Because I’m not fucking going back into that stupid fucking gymnasium.”

“Okay, here’s my plan,” said Scoots, leaning back against the wall and smoothing his t-shirt down his flat stomach, “we get on my bike, grab lunch someplace, and then ride out to the east side of Ponyville. By the time anyone starts seriously looking for us, if they even give a shit, school will be over.”

“Hmn. Won’t stop us getting detentions tomorrow.”

“Yeah but here’s a point: we don’t care, and we won’t go.”

“Shit, you’re right. Okay I’m sold, where are we getting lunch at?”

Scoots patted his pockets. “I got like ah, three bits, so I figured we’d hit up Sugarcube Corner, if we share a milkshare I know we can cadge some donuts off Pinkie--”

“Ugh, you fucking pleb,” sniffed Diamond. “No. We will get burgers, and you will owe me.”

“Sure. Oates or Flash-Frys?”

Diamond goggled at him. “How is that even a question?”

“Uh...”

“Flash-Frys, you dope.” She sighed. “It’s hard sometimes, being the only person in the entire school with good taste about things.”

“Flash-Frys it is, then. C’mon then, let’s make like a tree and fuck off.”

---

When they reached the school parking lot, Scoots glanced towards the half-dozen motorbikes parked by the entrance, and walked in the opposite direction.

“Where are you going?” asked Diamond, turning on her heel to follow him.

“Got some stuff stashed,” he muttered. He passed a shrub of blooming broom and stopped at a yellow fiberglass grit bin. He took the brass padlock in his hand, picked up a rock, and hit it on the base. It pulled open in a shower of rust. Inside the bin was a black garbage bag tucked between the salt and grit.

From the bag he produced a motorbike helmet, an oversized faded-red cordura jacket, and fifty packets of silica gel that spilled onto the ground. He put the bag away, closed the bin, and presented the helmet and jacket to Diamond.

“I keep this stuff around for when Bel needs a ride,” he said. “They use this thing once a year tops, so I just stash whatever inside it.”

Diamond took the jacket, looking at it dubiously. “What’s the packets for? And why does it smell like noodles?”

“The packets stop it getting damp and, ah, the noodles are where I got the packets from,” he said, self-consciously playing with his hair.

“Where’d you get this jacket? Looks... vintage.”

“Haha, yeah, got it from a cousin of mine, he’s real cool, used to do touring with--”

“Scoots,” she said sharply, “this is the ugliest fucking jacket I’ve ever fucking seen. It smells like poor people food. I don’t want to wear it.”

He scowled at her. “Hey, no jacket no bike. If you fall off and turn half your arm to pastrami, your dad is gonna take out a hit on me.”

“Fine,” she spat, putting on the jacket. They walked over to the bike as she tightened the straps and donned the helmet.

Scoots’ kit was in a canvas bag strapped to his bike. He wore a bright-red leather jacket with a pill embroidered on the back, and a blood-red helmet to go with it. He mounted the dirtbike, checked that none of the duct-tape-covered wires had fallen loose, and grabbed the handlebars as Diamond sat behind him, her inner thighs pressed against his hips. He pulled the clutch, pressed the button until the 100cc motor buzzed like a thousand hornets, kicked up the stand and sped off, with Diamond holding on for dear life.

---

“C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon....”

“You’re not fuckin’ fooling me, Di, I can tell you’re trying to blow on it.”

The two teenagers sat hunched over the table. Between them lay two paper burger wrappers, both empty; a basket of fries now barren of anything but salt and burned nibs, a dozen scrunched-up napkins, and a pair of tall glasses with the dregs of a pair of milkshakes within. Now they were concluding their meal the only way they knew how:

Window Pickle Races.

They watched with feverish intensity as the two neon-green slices of brine-soaked gherkin trailed down the glass on a river of blood-red ketchup. Their destination, the window-sill two feet below. Victory to whichever pickle made it first, without flopping off or staying stuck. Shame and humiliation to the loser.

“Yeah, make your excuses now, bitch, you’re gonna lose.”

“Your mom’s gonna lose.”

“Real original, dumbass.”

“Your mom’s gonna lose on my dick.”

“That doesn’t even make any--fuck you, I’m ahead! Let’s see you catch up now, asshole!”

Two jets of clear liquid shot out from behind them, striking each pickle with terrifying accuracy and knocking them to the floor. The cleaner leaned over their table, cleaning spray in one hand and cloth in the other, and quickly wiped away all evidence that the race had ever happened.

Scoots threw his hands up in outrage. “Caramel, what the fuck?”

“Quit messing up the windows, dipshits.”

“Hey!” snapped Diamond, “you’re not allowed to swear at us, we’re customers!”

Caramel snorted, flicking the mop of hair from his forehead and hooking his cleaning spray back onto his belt. “Or what, you’ll get me fired? From Donny’s Burger Shack? Screw you, that’s like being kicked out of Hell.”

Scoots scowled at him. “We’re just having fun, man, you’re being a real dick.”

Sighing, Caramel placed both his palms on the table, and leaned over until his face was a foot away from Scootaroll’s. “Listen, buddy. Half the town has fucked Rainbow. I’ve fucked Rainbow. But Rainbow will never--never, ever, ever-- fuck you, because you’re a little brother to them.”

Scootaroll shrugged, sneering contemptuously. “I don’t, I mean like, there’s honestly no reason I would care or give a shit about that,” he said to nobody in particular.

“Ever.”

“Well, now you’re just being fuckin’ rude and I don’t see a reason for it.”

“Buy something else or I’ll kick you idiots out.”

“We’ll have two strawberry milkshakes then, you fucking gimp.”

“Much obliged. That’ll be three eighty, please,” said Caramel, straightening up and taking out his pad.

Diamond Tiara bounced a few coins across the table top. “Keep the change, dick.”

He took the money, returning a minute later with two ice-cold milkshakes. He studiously ignored the jacking-off motions that the teenagers made, and they likewise ignored the finger-and-thumb circle he made with his free hand next to his pocket.

Diamond took a sip of her shake, and licked her lips. “He’d be pretty cute if he didn’t work in Donny’s Burger Shack.”

“He looks like someone tried to make a sex doll out of cream cheese.” Scoots sighed, slumping deeply into the red leather seats. “He’s okay though, I guess. I mean, I go stir-crazy washing dishes at Sugarcube Corner, I’d go fully nuts if I had to deal with customers too.”

“Customers are okay, in small doses.”

“You work in a perfume shop though, you get nice customers. When you work in food service, you get customers like us.”

“I guess.” Diamond Tiara slumped forward on her elbows, her chin in her hands. “Shit.”

“What’s up?”

“It’s... ugh. Did I ever tell you what I did for work experience last summer?”

“Nah, don’t think so.”

“I was working in an office for a household supply distributor. Kettles, washing machines, that shit. I spent the week between this one old lady in charge of sending out bills, and this other old lady receiving invoices, and it was the most boring five days of my entire fucking life. Crushingly boring. Like being buried under an avalanche of whiteout-smelling cotton wool, unable to breathe and yet unable to die.”

“Sounds lame.”

“Like it wasn’t just boring though, it was also soul-deadening, mentally exhausting, and low-key gross. Greasy male administrative assistants in their late twenties with food stains on their shiny slacks, people using q-tips at their desks, fuckin’ salesmen strolling past your seat slurping coffee, and I mean really slurping, like, I don’t know how these assholes make drinking coffee sound like a dog licking out a jar of pâté, but they managed it!” She flopped back against the seat. “So yeah. Shit.”

He blinked. “...Yeah?”

“Ughhh!” Diamond rolled her eyes. “What I mean is that I’ve seen a solid ten to fifteen years of my future, and it’s endless typing and retyping under fluorescent strip-lighting while some asshole with ‘senior’ in their job title wears tracks into the carpet as they talk into the phone, their oversized lips smacking together like a pair of raw shrimp. My life is going to get worse, and stay worse, and then I’m going to be fucking old and everything will suck.”

Scoots shrugged. “Your dad’s gonna hook you up with a cushy job, surely?”

“Hah! Oh Celestia, no. Daddy has a moon-sized chip on his shoulder about not being a self-made man. He spouts all that shit like ’duuhhhh, the first generation builds a business, the second generation builds a fortune, the third generation squanders both.’ You know why I said ten to fifteen years? ‘Cause he wrote a fuckin’ hiring policy for Barnyard Bargains that says no relative of any manager or supervisor under the age of thirty can be hired, and even then there needs to be unanimous agreement from the fuckin’ head of the company, head of personnel, and head of finance that there are exceptional circumstances that merit the hiring.”

“Wait, your dad doesn’t want you in the family business? That’s fuckin’ harsh.”

“Oh don’t get me wrong, he wants me in the business all right. He just wants me to have a fuck, a fuckin’ like, five years experience in a blue-bit company, two years supervisory experience, and an MBA. Or not! Hell, I think he’d be even prouder if I did strike out on my own.” She sighed. “It’s like if I’m not successful, that doesn’t just mean I fucked up, that doesn’t even mean he fucked up, it means his success never meant anything in the first place because it was only ever grandad’s success. Or something.”

“Huh. Rich ponies are weird.”

“We’re not rich; we’re upper-middle-class,” sniffed Diamond.

“You guys have fuckin’ servants!”

“Do not!”

“I’ve fuckin’ met your maid.”

“We hire out a maid service. Twice a week. And they won’t touch my room.”

“Pffft. Still rich.” Scoots stuck his tongue out at her. “Shit, Di, you’ll be fine. If there’s one thing I know about you it’s that you can stick with a shitty situation for like three days tops before you start pulling some fuckin’ crazy shit to change it.”

“You’re right, but that’s the whole problem. Acting like that in an office job either gets you very quickly promoted or very quickly fired and blacklisted. And then I’ll be thirty five and working a job with a uniform and a name-tag.”

Scoots put two thumbs up and gave a goofy grin. “Hey, you’ll be in good company.”

She laughed. “Yeah, you’re not wrong.” A guilty expression flickered across her face for a moment. “What are you gonna do?”

“I guess I’ll--wait, like, you mean about work? Uh.”

“Yeah.”

He shrugged. “I mean, I want to make scooters. And skateboards. Surfboards too, and like, dirtbikes, I’ll branch out into them if I can. Make custom builds, do tune-ups, sell parts and shit. But that’s like, fuckin... a lot of things have to break right to even get into that. I’ll clean dishes and cook, I guess, and try save some money instead of spending it all on gin and hash.”

“Would you wanna work as a cook?”

“Yeah.” He thought for a moment. “I mean, no. I mean, if I didn’t have to pay rent and feed myself I wouldn’t show up to stand up for six hours a night burning the shit out of my hands while some dick who jacks it to Iron Chef yells at me, and like, I’d still fucking make scooters and everything if I didn’t have to. But it’s less boring than cleaning, you don’t have to talk to customers, and you can steal some pretty good food.”

“I can understand that. At least you know where you wanna go though, right?”

“There’s the thing.” Scootaroll sighed. “Like, there’s three kinds of people that work in kitchens, right? There’s the fuckin’ hardboileds who take shit seriously, either because they’re fuckin’ artistes who’ve dedicated their whole lives to the grand, cosmic craft of cooking, or because they’re workaholics who take insane pride in never working less than fifty hours a week and brag that they’ve never had sick day in their life. Then there’s the transients who work for six months or a year, disappear one day and go back to working on shrimp boats or playing piano in a whorehouse or some shit. And then, then there’s the fuckin’ lumps, cooks with nicknames like ‘Mal’ or ‘Turbo’ who know they’re never gonna be good enough to become a chef, they’re not bad enough to be canned, and they work as cooks because they’re worse at literally everything else. Fuckers who work in a kitchen and then they look at a calendar one day and they’ve been working in the same place for eight fucking years, can’t move because they don’t want to deal with being the fucking new guy in a new kitchen, and they’ve had a whole decade of their life go fuckin whoosh.

He grimaced. “Nobody that starts working in a kitchen says ‘hey, I wanna be a lump, I wanna be mediocre,’ but it happens, and once you notice it’s too late. And I’m worried that’s me.”

“Bummer.”

“Hah, thanks.”

“Any time, Scoots. And hey,” she said, grinning, “we’ve still got like, two more years of being teenage shitheads before we have to face all that depressing shit.”

He drained the last of his milkshake. “Yeah. Fuck it, c’mon, let’s go be teenage shitheads outside.”

---


Scoots stopped the dirtbike outside the park, chained it up with their helmets, and stuffed their jackets into his backpack. Diamond shook each of her legs in turn, shaking out the tension from clinging onto the motorbike for dear life.

“What’ya think we’d be doing now if we were back in school?” she mused.

“Napping until some fucker woke us up, probably.” He took an empty plastic bottle out of his bag, and nodded his head towards the park’s ball courts. “Hoops?”

“No way, you foul like a pig. Let’s play badminton?”

“Badminton’s for nobles and dudes who wear nail varnish.”

“You wore nail polish all through winter!”

“Black nail polish is cool and doesn’t count.”

“Ugh, fine. Tennis?”

“Sure, sounds good. That court’s free!”

They stopped at the park kiosk at the edge of the courts, Diamond placing down a few bits to rent a ball and a pair of rackets. They stepped onto the asphalt, which radiated heat from the afternoon sun. Scoots filled up his bottle as Diamond stretched her hamstrings, and then they took their places on either side of the net.

“Ready to get your ass kicked, you fuckin’ limpdick?” asked Diamond, bouncing the fuzzy green ball between her racket and the ground.

“Give it your best shot, bitch.”

Diamond tossed the ball upwards and lazily wound up for a deceptively-powerful overhand. Scoots sidestepped to knock it back after one bounce, but Diamond barely had to move to respond. Her next shot had him all but skidding to hit it, and after another volley Scoots sent the ball thwapping lamely against the net.

“Whatever, I’m just warming up.”

“Your seerr-eerrrve~” she sing-songed.

He grunted and charged up a vicious overhand swing, which Diamond shot forward to meet and spiked to the ground, an inch past Scootaroll’s side of the net.

This time, Diamond simply smirked.

Scootaroll was more conservative with his next serve, and Diamond had to seriously lunge for the first time in the match. They parried each other half a dozen times before Scoots missed the ball by a hair’s breadth.

“Good game,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Aww, don’t feel bad, we’re so much alike,” said Diamond. “I get no love and you can’t score, you little biiiiiiiiiiiittttccchhhhh!”

He stuck his tongue out in response, swigged from the water bottle, and tossed it across for her to drink from. They each returned to their places, a definite swagger now in Diamond’s step.

Scoots served again, and the pair nipped back and forth until the ball tumbled along the ground on Diamond’s side of the net. She nonchalantly swept her hair out of her face and picked up the ball.

“Fifteen-love.”

The next round shot back and forth until the ball hit Scoots on the chest and dropped to the ground. Fifteen-fifteen. Diamond read next his serve like a children’s book and easily hit it out of reach, just within bounds.

Thirty-fifteen.

Her counter was almost fast enough to blast past Scoots, but through sheer luck he was in the perfect place to tap it back. Two volleys later he smashed it directly to the ground over the net. Thirty-Thirty, she said, and there was fire in his eyes now.

“Well, here’s something I never expected to see,” said Diamond, “you not completely fucking sucking at tennis.”

“Whatever soothes the sting of getting your ass kicked, by me...”

She sneered in amusement, went for a powerful overhand, and feinted to tap it barely over the net. Scoots’ face froze up in a mask of anger and regret as he stopped on his heels, too late to nip forward and punt it back over.

Scootaroll exhaled and stretched out, as Diamond Tiara mimed riding a horse, skittering back and forth in a mocking victory dance. “Best of five?” she asked.

“Nah, I’ll let you have this one, You’ll get a complex or some shit if I always kick your ass at everything.”

“I can’t hear you over all your loser stink.”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Phbbbppt. Still a loser.” She guzzled water and shouldered her racket. “Celestia, I’m dying for a fucking smoke already.”

“Same. Gonna buy some?” he asked hopefully.

“Nah, only fucker who’ll sell to me is Grant from the import shop, and he works the evening shift.” She grabbed the ball, and they both walked off the courts towards the kiosk. “I’ve got more at home but dad would just send me back to school...”

“Lame. Hey, I’ve got the bike, we could ride over to the Fillydelphia outskirts,” he suggested as they returned the tennis kit.

“Hmm. How long would that take?”

“Hour, maybe an hour-thirty.”

“In this heat? Ew. Hard pass.”

“Balls. Ass. Huh, wait a minute...” Scoots stared off across the park, at a small green hill and a copse of elm trees. He started walking in that direction. “Follow me, I’ve got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“Might be able to hook us up, I’ll know in a minute,” he said. “Hey, have you heard Perturbator’s new LP?”

“No, is it good?”

They walked through the short grass talking about music, walking past old couples on benches, lunchtime joggers, and men in beards walking their dogs. They stepped over daisies and stepped around the occasional pile of dog muck, waiting for the unwary like foul-smelling landmines. When they reached the trees, Scootaroll searched around until he saw a figure sitting in the shade of a cherry tree, surrounded by pink blossoms.

“Yo, Tree Hugger!”

A few seconds later the woman’s head perked up. She looked from side to side, slowly, her clay-red dreadlocks swishing lazily under her bandana. Light dappled through the cherry blossoms on her pale brown skin as she looked up, saw the pair, and smiled widely.

“Hey... Scoots! And uh, Mister Rich’s kid, Diamond, uh...”

“Tiara. We’ve met before, at Blossomforth’s birthday?”

“Yeahhh, you’re Mister Rich’s kid, good to see you again, Namaste guys.” She uncrossed and re-crossed her legs, still smiling, her eyes in a half-lidded daze.

“How you been, girl?”

“Real groovy, dude, real groovy. Hey, that uh... that board you made! We took it to the beach for the first time uh, last weekend? It needs a really righteous wave to catch the tail but oh man once you’re on your feet you can absolutely shred that surf. It’s totally radical,” she said, stretching her hand outwards.

Scoots slapped the hand and grinned. “Glad it’s working out.”

“Right on, dude. So, what brings our paths crossing today? Come to watch the blossoms fall?”

“Hah, I’ll be honest, it’s cause I’m a dirtbag and I’m outta smokes. Can I cadge one off you?” he asked, cocking his head and flashing his most hangdog-possible smile.

“Oh! Uh... I got like, I think I got half a clove in my satchel, somewhere.”

Scootaroll’s face fell. “Ah. Hey, don’t worry about it, I don’t wanna steal your last-”

Diamond Tiara interrupted. “Got any hash for sale?”

A blink, followed by a sly grin. “I might, yeah. Not much on me though, it’s mostly back in the Kombi.”

“Got an eighth?”

“I can swing that, groovy lady,” she murmured, rifling through her hessian satchel until she pulled out a tiny parcel of greaseproof paper. “This is some real hippie trail stuff, it uh, it sneaks up on you...”

Diamond took a few notes from her purse. “That’s twenty-six bits, right? I’ve only got thirty, have you got any rolling stuff to go with it?”

“Rolling stuff?”

“For joints.”

“Oh, papers and things. Yeah something to roll up a real gnarly doobie, lemme see, got some king skins, uhh, filters, spare card for roach paper, tobacco... yeah, this’ll set you up.”

They swapped cash and hash, and then Scootaroll scowled.

“Tree, you just said you didn’t have any smokes!”

She looked confused. “I still got half a clove?”

“You had all rolling papers and tobacco and shit.”

“I thought you wanted a smoke, not a joint?” she asked, her expression growing more perplexed.

“You know you can make normal cigarettes with that stuff, right?”

She froze for a moment. “...Wait. Oh. Woah, you can. Sorry dude.”

He just laughed in response. “It’s cool. Wanna blaze with us?”

Grinning, she shook her head. “Not today, brother, I don’t wanna, uh, interfere with my meditations.”

“Fair, we’re gonna head off then,” he said. “Hey, you gonna be at Sweet Apple Acres this weekend?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” she said. “See you crazy kids around!”

They said their goodbyes and walked out of the copse, back into the grassy expanse of the park. It was the early afternoon now, still muggy and humid, the air oddly still.

“Wanna light up in the bandstand?”

Scootaroll peered at the construction in the distance. “Eh, I think it’s full of old people. There’s a good spot by the pond where we don’t have crotchety fuckers muttering about secondhand smoke.”

“Sure. Hey, you wanna - oh.”

Diamond Tiara blinked as a droplet of water landed on her nose. She looked up. They hadn’t noticed the clouds creeping across the sky.

“Scoots, do you think it’s about to-”

The heavens opened up.

Rain fell as a single sheet, fat and fast droplets spaced so close together that they hit as a torrent. It rumbled without thunder, sounding out simply from the force of so much rain hitting the ground at once. Water rustled down tree leaves, pattered onto grass, drummed on asphalt and soaked everyone in the open to the bone.

Diamond Tiara’s intricate hairdo sagged and flopped onto her face. Scootaroll’s oil-stained t-shirt clung to his skin, his nipples poking out against the semi-transparent fabric. Both of them spluttered for a moment, from shock and from the torrent of water that covered both of their faces.

“What,” said Diamond, “the fuck? Was it scheduled to fucking rain today?”

“I’ve never even looked at a calendar.”

“Where the fuck do we go? I’m not walking all through town like this.”

“I’ve got an idea,” he said, trying to snap his fingers and failing because they were too wet. “Follow me.”

They trudged through the sudden gale-force wind and rain, following Scootaroll’s lead until he gestured to a dull-green shed by a footpath.

“It’s the weather team’s equipment shed,” he said, “I know how to get in.”

They reached the front door, locked shut. Scootaroll knelt down, picked up a rock, found absolutely no key whatsoever, and swore.

“Damn it, Rainbow! Why would you do this to me.”

Diamond Tiara glared at him, unimpressed.

“I’ve still got a way in, don’t worry.” He walked around the edge of the shed, kicking the planks of green wood seemingly at random. One wobbled, and under closer inspection it had been repaired with duct tape two feet off the ground and painted over green. “There used to be a mini-generator here, tucked into the wall. If I can...”

He squatted down, pulled several boards towards him with a dull crunch, sending paint flaking onto him. It gave him enough space to crawl under on his belly, swearing about pillbugs and splinters. Several thumps and curses later, the door to the shed swung open from the inside.

“Get in!”

Diamond didn’t need telling twice.

Water ran off her as she closed the door behind her, carving dark trails on the dusty wooden floor below. The interior of the shed was as big as one half of a tennis court, lit by the cold, pale light of an energy-saving bulb.

It seemed oddly devoid of normal shed-related equipment. The pointy metal docking racks on the left wall were empty save for a pair of rolled-up sleeping bags, and there was a dark spot in the corner where an auxiliary generator had sat.

Instead, there was a three-seater couch covered in worn green fabric, a television sat atop an old whiskey crate, several boxes filled with miscellania, blankets, towels, and pillows. In one corner there was a foam mat, some free weights, and a tall mirror. A small pile of alcoholic drinks was in a pile below one arm of the couch, and the floor around it had been scattered with a dozen empty beer cans. The whole room smelled of petrichor, cheap perfume, and unwashed socks.

The wind and rain lashed the walls. She was glad to be inside.

"The hell is this place?" she muttered. "And how'd you know about it?"

"It's a storage shed for the weather team," he replied, looking  for something behind the television.

"It doesn't look like it's storing much. It looks like a frat took over Applebuck's kiddy clubhouse."

"Hah, they only use this place in big blizzards, they don't even bother keeping the cloud buoys in the racks until like... late November? Spring through fall they just sleep here if there's any extended weather procedures going on in this end of Ponyville, and use it as a hangout spot otherwise."

"Huh." More water dripped off Diamond Tiara, who had gone from wet to soggy. She saw a corkboard on the wall. It was covered in fliers, weather team rules, drunken photos of team members on nights out or playing in the sunshine, a handful of darts stuck into a fine for causing a public disturbance.

"Hey Scoots, wh-gyah!" She gave a muffled yelp as a towel flumped against the side of her head. As she turned to glare at Scootaroll, she saw that he had a towel slung around his shirtless shoulders, and his jeans around his ankles as he stripped his clothes off. The medical braces around his knees glinted in the light.

"There's a space heater over there, we can hang out under one of the blankets until our stuff dries off."

She grumbled but undressed herself, peeling off her soaking cami top, pushing off her trainers, removing her jeans and underclothes before drying herself with the towel. Scootaroll didn't sneak any furitive peeks at her, and she didn't leer at him either. It was nothing they hadn't seen before.

She did giggle when he turned to face her, though.

"What?"

"Your fuckin' eyeliner is all smudged," she teased, "you look like a starved panda."

"Pfft, you should see your own makeup right now," he replied, grinning.

He bent over to pick up a large blanket, his towel wrapped tightly around his slender hips, and then flopped down on the couch. Diamond sat down next to him, and they wrapped the blanket around both their shoulders. They sat quietly for a moment, resting for the first time since they'd left the restaurant, listening to the pounding rain.

"You okay, Scoots?" Diamond asked softly.

Scootaroll had his teeth clenched and his eyes shut, sucking in a breath as he flexed his legs under the blanket. "Hn? Yeah, they just get weird when it starts raining. I'm fine."

"Do you need space to stretch them out?"

"C'mon, don't be a big baby," she said, gently prodding him with a finger. "Just lay 'em over me."

"You sure?"

"Course I am." She pulled the blanket off their shoulders and instead draped it over their fronts, and pushed Scootaroll back to lie along the length of the couch, his shoulders and head propped up on pillows by one of the armrests, and his legs streching across her lap.

She ran her hands over his toned, hairless legs, cool and slightly damp from the rain. The polymer leg braces clicked softly as he stretched out. Diamond took the closest leg and began to massage the muscles around the knee and down to his calf. He let out a sharp gasp that gave way to a soft moan.

"Lil' sore?"

"Haha, yeah. Tennis took it outta me, I kinda didn't know how much I needed to sit down until... huh wow..." he murmured as she continued her attentions.

"Sorry about that, I guess, didn't mean to push you so hard."

He shrugged and waved her off. "Ehh, it's fucked up whatever I choose. If I exercise too much I strain the tendons, and if I don't exercise enough the muscles atrophy. Both hurt, so I'll pick the one that isn't fucking boring," he said. "Besides, I'm getting surgery in a few months."

An expression that was almost concern crossed Diamond's face. "Again?"

"Yup, right at the end of summer."

"Are you gonna lose the leg braces this time?"

There was a pause. "...Maybe," he said. "Like, I mean, if it does what it's supposed to, it'll reinforce the tendons and stop my bones from wearing the cartrilidge completely away, and like that's good because it means I won't be in a wheelchair for six hours every day by the time I'm forty."

"Shit."

"Yeah, well, that is a lot better off than anyone thought I'd be when I was twelve. Hell, when I started high school my mom was looking up what crutches would go best with a tuxedo for prom."

"That sucks, man."

"Hey, naw, it's good! I'm actually really fuckin' lucky given the circumstances."

"The circumstances suck, man."

"Yeah, but for now I'm walking, I can kick your ass at all real sports-"

Diamond snorted.

"-and if worst comes to worst I'll just have to learn some sick-ass wheelchair tricks for the skate park," he finished.

Diamond laughed softly. Her hands were moving of their own accord, and she was absent-mindedly giving Scootaroll a foot massage. "Yeah, and you'll have to get Bel Canto to practice his cowgirl more," she said, sticking out her tongue.

He laughed and poked her. "You got a dirty fuckin' mind."

They fell into a moment of comfortable quiet. Diamond switched feet, her fingers working the tension out of his left foot, thumbs running from the arches to his purple-painted toenails. The rain continued to hammer down outside.

"Ugh, I'm booooored," she whined. "I wanted to go to the arcade and see if you still suck ass at Virtua Fighter."

Scootaroll had all but melted into the couch. "You'll get your chance," he murmured. "Like, rain this hard, this time of year? If it's not a thunderstorm, it won't last longer than a half hour."

A crack and a low rumble came from outside, followed by a second crack. Light flashed through the thin ventilation grate at the top of the far wall.

"Well, shit, there's your thunderstorm."

"What are we gonna do until our clothes are dry?"

Scootaroll lifted his head, looked directly at Diamond, and waggled his eyebrows salaciously.

"Our clothes won't dry in two minutes, dumbass."

He only stuck his tongue out in response.

"Do you think that TV has signal?" she asked.

"Nah, but there's a big crate of VHS tapes behind it. Here, lemme-" He disentangled himself from the blankets and the massage, stood up, and dragged the cardboard banker's box from behind the TV up to the sofa. He laid across the sofa again, Diamond quickly picking up one of his feet and resuming the massage.

He twisted his torso, leaning over to root through the tapes.

"Lemme see there's uh, Le Femme Nikita, and A View To A Kill-"

"James Bond sucks."

"Yeah, Roger Moore isn't the best."

Her eyes narrowed. "No, all James Bond sucks."

"Whatever, there's also uh, A Beautiful Mind, Alien 3-"

"Any of the other Alien films?"

"Can't see but I'll keep looking, Smoking Aces-Celestia that's a fucking shitty film-there's Hook, ah, Crash-"

She perked up, looking hopeful. "David Cronenburg?"

"No, nah, it's the Paul Haggis one where cops are racist but still good or something."

"Ew, no."

"Got uh, Star Wars four through six?"

"The prequels are the only good ones."

"You're fucking with me."

"Scootaroll, I never fuck. What else?"

"Shit, lemme, Hook-no, seen that one already, wait there's two copies of Hook what the fuck? Uh, there's a Jason Bourne thing..."

"Which one?"

"Bourne Identity."

"Yeah that one's okay I guess, stick that one on."

Scootaroll stumbled to his feet, slid the tape inside the VHS player, and fiddled until the production company's jingle blared into the room. He grabbed the remote and flopped back onto the couch, sitting back against the cushions and throwing an arm around Diamond's shoulder. She accepted it, and pulled the blanket tight over both of them.

The film whirred to life, images of dark water behind the flicker of scanlines as tense orchestral music began to build.

"I don't think Matt Damon ages like a normal human," said Diamond Tiara.

"He's in this movie?"

She turned her head to stare at him. "...He plays Jason Bourne."

"Wait, that's Matt Damon?" he asked, his brow furrowed.

"Yes that's Matt Damon you incredible-ugh I think this tape is fucked."

The screen became cluttered with tracking lines and the music faded out into noise, and then the movie melted away into grey static.

"It's probably dusty," said Scootaroll, "lemme get it out and see if I can get some of the shit off."

"Wait, I think it's coming back."

A coherent imaged returned to the screen, but the music was gone and it was not the movie. It was a recording of the same weather shack they were sat in now, pointing at the corkboard on the wall, taken on a handheld camera with the date and time in white digital lettering in the bottom corner of the screen. Evidently, this video had taken place last summer.

"Okay guys, are you ready to make the hottest fuckin' piece of cinema ever committed to film?" came a scratchy, energetic voice from behind the camera.

Scootaroll perked up. "Hey, that's Rainbow's voice!"

The camera shook and swept to the couch that Diamond and Scootaroll were sitting on presently. On the television, it was occupied by three people. Two women in their twenties with silky, lavender-lilac hair, one in a spiky pixie cut and the other flowing down to her shoulders, and an athletic man also in his twenties, with koi sleeves tattooed on his arms and his hair cut in a sharp mohawk, dyed ice-blue. All three wore fluffy terry-cloth bathrobes, the man wearing one with the sleeves torn off at the shoulders.

Diamond Tiara blinked. "I recognise those girls. And that's Rumble's weirldy-hot older brother."

"Yeah, Thunderlane," said Scootaroll, "and that's Flitter and Cloudchaser, they're like the second and third hottest girls on the weather team!"

"Okay nah, they gotta be doing some dumb jokey thing, there's no way in hell this is genuinely a-"

They watched Thunderlane grab a handful of Flitter's flowing hair and kiss her passionately as she shrugged off her robe, revealing her pert tits and toned stomach. On his other side, Cloudchaser pulled his bathrobe to one side and took his half-hard cock in her hand, stroking it as she kissed his ear.

"Holy-" Scootaroll paused and swallowed, "-shit."

Diamond was grinning maniacally. "They actually did it. They made a porn tape."

"What the fuck."

"I am never going to be able to look Rumble in the eye again, you hear me? I'll be all 'dude I get that we're talking right now but yo, your big brother fucks.'"

They watched the tape with rapt attention. Flitter and Cloudchaser kissed each other gently and lovingly, as Cloudchaser sat on Thunderlane's face and Flitter gave him a handjob. He licked away with some skill, or at least seemed to from Cloudchaser's rather happy reactions. Her noises built to a pitch as she reached the edge of an orgasm, and then she backed off and the three switched places. Thunderlane sat upright in the middle of the sofa as the two girls knelt either side of him, licking and sucking on his shaft in a double blowjob.

Scootaroll sipped at the hard lemonade. "Is it me," he said, "or does Thunderlane's weenie look kinda weird?"

"Huh." Diamond's brow furrowed as she watched Flitter's lips close over the tip of the cock. "It's... now that you mention it, it's kinda... square. Like a flesh twinkie."

The noises of slurping, moaning and groaning continued. Both of the girls on screen appeared very well practiced.

Scoots coughed. "Uhh, you mind if I-"

"Ew, don't just start whacking it right next to me, that's vulgar," she sneered.

"Nah, I mean stretch my legs out like before."

"Oh. Oh! Yeah, knock yourself out," she said, gingerly taking his ankles over her thighs and resuming the earlier foot massage.

"Celestia this is fuckin' hilarious. I can't fuckin' believe it," said Scoots, grinning as he stared at the screen.

"Of course it would be Rumble's brother, like, who even else would - holy shit look at his ass," she shrieked, her face lit up with excitement as she pointed at the screen, "that's a fuckin plug he's using a fuckin' prostate massager! I can't breathe!" Her laughs turned into honks and tears streamed down her face as Scootaroll clapped his hands together with glee.

"This is incredible, there's a fuckin' Anero sticking out of him, that is... kinda hot actually."

"Haha... yeah, hehe..."

They watched, still giggling, as the scene continued. Diamond's towel had slipped down, revealing her left breast, though Scootaroll didn't seem to have noticed. His light-brown cheeks looked a tinge redder than normal, and her chest was all but glowing pink. Her foot massage technique also looked less foot-massagey than normal.

Flitter was on her back onscreen, knees lifted up to her belly, moaning deeply into a kiss with Thunderlane, who had two fingers deep inside her. Cloudchaser was kneeling to the other side, licking one of her breasts and sofly stroking the other.

"Thunderlane has... really big fingers. I'm... I'm not sure if could take those fingers," murmured Diamond.

"Me either. I'd need like, training-size fingers before he used those fingers."

"Mmhmm."

Diamond sipped at her empty bottle and reached down to grab another one, as Scootaroll tried to toke from the last half-inch of the joint before realizing it had gone out. He absent-mindedly relit it as she popped the bottle open on his knee braces.

"I'm getting kinda warm under this towel," she said after swigging her bottle. "Do you, uh... I'm... gonna take it off." She wriggled out of the towel and tossed it off the side of the couch. Scootaroll's ankles now rested on her bare thighs.

"Oh. Uh, would you be okay if I, uh..."

"Huh?"

"Like, if I, uh, took the towel off too?"

"Yeah. Yeah, sure."

Both teenagers were now completely naked, bar the blanket vaguely draped across their shoulders and the mechanical braces on Scootaroll's legs.

Diamond glanced away from the screen, looked at Scootaroll, and then looked back at the screen. Then, she said, "You've got a boner, you fuckin' loser."

"Yeah?" he said, still watching the screen.

"I bet you want me to touch it or some shit."

"Uh-huh."

She barked out a laugh. "Hah! You really think I'm gonna touch your dick, just because we're both stoned and tipsy and naked and watching porn together?"

"Bitch you think I'll let you?"

She laughed again and slapped his stomach lightly, then yelped at he sat up and grabbed her, growling as he kissed her arms and shoulders and head. She playfully tried to bat him away for a few moments before relaxing into it and falling backwards as they started kissing, desperate sloppy kisses with too much tongue and absolutely no dignity.

She nipped at his bottom lip, ran her hands over his chest and stomach, over his skinny ribs and lean muscle, flat and hairless, dragging her pink-painted fingernails over his pecs, all while he pawed at her tits and moaned into the kiss.

They broke away, looking into each others dazed, lidded eyes, breathing hard and almost shaking. A strand of hair stuck to the side of Diamond's mouth from the kiss-drool. She sat up, kissed his cheek a few times as she sat him in the middle of the couch, and placed both hands on his thighs.

After spreading his legs ever so slightly she slid her hands up and down between his hips and the braces, and his dick stood to attention. It was long but slender, less like a pornstar's wiffle-ball bat and more like something from the pages of a Ladies Discreet Home Companion catalogue, with the tiniest patch of well-trimmed black hair above it.

She leaned over and whispered into his ear, "Would you like to feel my hand wrapped around delicious, absolutely perfect cock?"

"I'd fuckin' love it."

She kissed his cheek, passed him another bottle of hard lemonade to pop open, and bent down to root through her handbag. After retrieving a small tube, she took a swig from the bottle that Scootaroll had just opened, passed it back, squirted a generous helping of hand moisturizer onto her palm, and then grasped his cock. He let out a gasp as the cool liquid squelched between his skin and her palm.

"Fffuck," he moaned as she rubbed the slick cream into his shaft, her hand reaching the tip and peeling back his delicate foreskin, then massaging it into the pink, tender head. Her hand slid down to the base, grasping tight near the bottom, releasing and softly stroking with her fingertips as it went back up to the top in a skilled, luxurious handjob.

He leaned over to bury his face in her neck and murmured, "You've been practicing."

"Nah, I'm a natural--oh!" She cooed softly as he kissed his way down her collarbone and began licking and nipping her breasts.

Onscreen, the trio were fucking. Flitter had perched herself on Thunderlane's face as Cloudchaser rode his dick, her ass slapping against his hips and making fuzzy cracking sounds from the low-quality audio.

Scootaroll watched from the corner of his eye, still licking and kissing at Diamond's chest while ever-so-gently bucking his hips against the handjob. Her fingers were decadently, criminally soft, and as he licked her tits he could taste the slightest bitter tang of perfume among the sweat. He hissed a swearword as her thumb rubbed a gentle circle on the very tip of his cock.

"Hey," he sat back up to kiss her neck and moved a hand onto her thigh, "lemme get you as well?"

Her free hand blocked his wrist as she continued to stroke his cock. "Honestly, fingers won't do it," she said, her voice strained, "I need dick, in my pussy, and I need it pretty bad."

He kissed her. "Wanna get fucked, then?"

"Fuck yes."

Simultaneously, the two said:

"You've got johnnies in your bag, right?"

"You've got rubbers in your jacket, right?"

Their faces froze, and then fell.

"Well, shit."

"There's uh, other ways we could do it."
.
"Those ways are less fun when you don't have a prostate, dumbass."

"Fuck."

They both sighed, and returned to watching the screen. Diamond half-heartedly continued her handjob and Scootaroll's hand rested on her inner thigh.

Onscreen, Thunderlane pulled out of Cloudchaser, stood up, and lightly threw Flitter onto her back in the middle of the sofa. As he teased Flitter's visibly-wet pussy with a finger, Cloudchaser reached between his legs, pulled off the condom on his dick, replaced it with a fresh one, and stuffed the remainder of the strip down the side of the couch.

"That's pretty hygienic of them," said Diamond, "I always figured Rumble's brother for a raw-dogging kinda guy."

"Yeah, weather teams take that shit pretty serious since the super-clamhydia outbreak back when-wait a fuckin' second!" His face lit up as he turned and sunk his hand between the couch cushions. "Huh... no, not that... ew... Yes!" he yelled, pulling a strip of condoms from the depths. "That's some Resident Evil Seven shit right there!"

Diamond snatched them out of his hand, opened one up, and popped it in her mouth. She stood up and pulled Scootaroll to his feet alongside her, squatted down in front of him, wrapped her shiny pink lips around his cock and sunk her head forward until his balls were on her chin. When she pulled her mouth away, there was a condom perfectly covering his cock.

"Holy shit," he said.

She all but leapt back onto the sofa, legs spread and knees raised, on her back, giving him a pointedly needy look. Her sex was practically running with juices.

She bit her lip and whined as he buried his face in her pussy, grabbing his dark hair with both hands, grinding her crotch against his mouth as he loudly, sloppily ate her out.

"Quit stalling and fuck me," she gasped after a minute of his affections.

He stood up over her, leaning forward until his sweat-damp forelocks touched Diamond's hair. His kiss was almost timid as he lined up his shaft.

She nipped his lip. "Do it," she spat, "put it in-ohh, oh!"

He pushed inside her in a single smooth stroke, his mind blissfully blank as his dick was held snug in perfect heat and tightness. Diamond's reaction was more visceral.

"Oh fuck, fuck!" She threw her arms around him and dug her nails into his back, dragging him on top of her as she bucked her hips forward to ensure that every inch of his length was as deep inside her as it could possibly go. Her mouth clamped down on his neck, her eyes rolling back into her head as she gave him a desperate, needy lovebite.

As Scootaroll pudded out the air felt bitingly cold around his cock, even with the condom on. He couldn't stand to stay out for long. When he pushed back in, he felt as if she was almost pulling him inside.

Her eyes were closed, her hands clawed at his shoulders, and her legs were wrapped tight around his back. They both had a thin sheen of sweat covering their bodies as his thrusts picked up a rhythm, gentle pumps becoming faster and more forceful, her thighs slapping against his hips.

Her moans were almost whimpers. "Oh, Scoots..."

He kissed her again and she kissed back ravenously, sloppy and dumb with eyes half-lidded. She kissed his head as he kissed her neck and ear, whispering how good she feels and how fucking hot she is, words turning to grunts as he tried to keep his rhythm consistent.

He thrust in deep and stuck his tongue in her ear, which made her shudder as she pulled him closer, half grossed out and half absolutely melting. Only the shortness of her nails was stopping her from drawing blood all over his back.

His rhythm faltered after a few minutes, his grunts growing louder and his thrusts becoming slower. She opened her eyes, about to beg for more, but saw that his teeth were gritted and the muscles on his thighs were visibly twitching.

She put her hand on his chest. "Hey, relax a minute."

Scootaroll stopped thrusting, deep inside her, and looked into her eyes. "I'm good, I can keep-"

She placed a finger on his lip. "Shush, dumbass."

They disentangled, and she pushed him onto the couch, sitting slumped in his seat. After another drink of hard lemonade for each of them, Diamond sat in his lap.

Scootaroll giggled. "Okay, this is good too," he said, as she lined up his dick with her pussy, both still slick with fluids.

"Fuckin' A right it's good," she grunted, "I've got sorority-level cowgirl skills, and I'm not talking about prissy Canterhorn University sororities, I mean real fuckin' Las Pegasus City College sorority skills."

She slammed down and buried his length in one stroke, making Scootaroll gasp and grab at the ratty green fabric. Her hips rolled back and forth, sliding up and down his dick with each movement. She grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands onto her ass.

"Smack it until your hands hurt," she whined.

She yelped as his hands crashed down, and ground down even harder onto his hips, moaning and stammering as he spanked, groped and squeezed her butt. The sting of the smacks brought a prickly warmth to complement the heat within her.

She put her arms around the back of his head and smooshed his face into her chest, babbling with delight as he growled and licked and nibbled her. Her eyes went wide as she felt him sucking hard on a patch of skin.

"Below the neckline! Below the neckline!"

He craned his head down and gave her several hickies either side of her nipples, bright red and ugly, new ones joining faded ones. When her whines turned to yelps, he licked and kissed the areas he had nipped, all while softly massaging her ass.

Her pace slowed, needy but no longer frantic, slowly lifting her hips and sliding off the cock before burrying it back inside herself, grinding down onti his hips as if desperate to feel every possible part of his dick as deep inside her as it could possibly go. As she slipped downwards, he grabbed her sides and thrust his hips, lifting her body half-a-foot upwards.

"Fuck!" She screamed in shock and pleasure, her hands scrambling to get a grip on him. "Keep that up, keep that fuckin' keep pumping into me!"

He growled, keeping his pace the same but putting more force behind every thrust. She swore and babbled, her voice breaking as she neared her climax, no longer able to keep her hips moving smoothly.

As her first orgasm hit she clenched around him so tight that Scootaroll had to physically pull to withdraw his dick. She was gibbering now, and as he kissed her she could only moan into it, not even able to move her tongue in response. She clung hard to him, whimpering a garbled version of his name over and over as she rode it out.

Once she had recoverd her wits, she sat back up on her mount, moving her hips a little. She was flushed and dripping with sweat, her hair now completely down her neck.

"Are y-you close?" she asked.

He nodded.

"Then let's, uh..."

She braced herself and started fucking him again, hips rolling faster for one last push as she collapsed onto his chest. He grabbed a fistful of her soft pink hair as she sucked his nipple, desperate to feel him finish.

"Oh!" He shouted as he came, pushing in deep while pulling her down onto him, trying to thrust in and out without pulling even an inch out of her. He grunted and writhed as he filled the condom with cum.

They lay like that for a while, kissing and stroking each other clumsily before Diamond fell off to the side and flopped onto the couch. They giggled, breathing hard, completely exhausted.

Diamond looked at Scootaroll and smirked. "You're glowing."

"Yeah? You're horny."

"Pfffft!"

They glanced back at the screen, where Flitter and Cloudchaser were kissing each other with the very tip of Thunderlane's dick between their mouths, rivulets of cum running down their lips and down the shaft.

Diamond got a wicked glint in her eye. "Wanna see something fun?"

"Sure."

She leaned over and carefully eased the condom off of his cock, before giving him a quick suck clean. He yelped and twitched because of the sensitivity, but cooed softly as she kissed the tip and sat back up.

"Check this out," she said, taking the condom and turning it upside-down. She squeezed it out over her tits, Scootaroll's cum running down her skin, white against bright blushing pink like glaze on a donut, topping her nipples and glistening in the pale light. "Like what you seeyeee!"

She giggled, yelped and kicked as he tackled her, lapping his own cum off her tits, slurping up every drop and trail he could find as she sighed with pleasure. Before she could say a word, he kissed her, sharing half a mouthful of salty sperm with her. She couldn't help but cringe slightly at the metallic tang.

"Hey Scoots, wanna tip?" she said.

"Yeah?"

"Eat more pineapple."

They snorted and laughed together before collapsing into a snuggle. For a while, they stayed there, breathing softly and resting against each other.

Diamond's ears perked up. "The rain's stopped," she said.

He smirked. "Yeah, you ready to go back to school?"

"Fuck offfff..."

"What time is Silver Spoon getting back?"

"Like, seven or some shit. We've still got four and a half hours to kill, I think."

"Right." With a groan, he sat up, grabbed a bottle of hard lemonade, offered her a drink, and finished the rest after she'd taken a sip. "Wanna go to the arcade? Our clothes are probably dry now."

"Sure." She yawned. "But we can wait a while first."

Scootaroll picked up the blanket and draped it over both of them as they cuddled each other close. "We're gonna need a fuckin' shower first," he said, laughing softly.

"Pfft, yeah!"

But that too could wait.