“So, how long are we going to be in Ponyville again?” Anon asked, adjusting himself on the hay bale.
“Probably a month or so, just long enough to help Granny Smith and her folks with the harvest, then we’ll be headed back to Appleloosa,” Braeburn responded. Much like the man, he was seated on a bale of hay.
“There much to do there? Like, anything interesting?” Anon pressed, leaning forward.
“Nah, not really. Well, I mean, you could see Twilight’s castle, maybe take a tour of the School of Friendship, but it’s not exactly a big town. Don’t worry though, you’ll be plum tuckered out after your days in the orchard,” Braeburn snickered, jostling slightly, as the train trundled along.
Anon had found himself outside the remote settlement of Appleloosa a few months back. Be damned if he could remember how he got there, or what he’d been doing beforehand, but he’d awoken on a ridge overlooking the village. With only the clothes on his back, and the few items he had in his pockets, he hiked his way into town.
Much to his amazement, he discovered the hamlet populated by talking and, at times, magical pastel colored equines. Now, most people would likely have some sort of existential crisis at that point. Fortunately, Anon wasn’t most people. Well, at least that’s how he’d always looked at himself.
In his mind, he was nothing special. Just a dude stuck in a dead end job, in another city, surrounded by people he didn’t particularly care for. Sure, he had friends, although most had moved away over the years. Add to that the fact that his family was, for the most part, relatively uninvolved with him, and you had the perfect combination of elements for someone who actually didn’t mind disappearing.
As luck would have it, the multi-colored ponies were all friendly; hell, they were more than friendly. Upon his arrival, nobody freaked out, attacked him with pitchforks, or tried to chase him off. No, quite the opposite! Anon found himself offered lodging, innumerable fond greetings, genial conversations, and even a job offer.
One of the first ponies he met, a young stallion named Braeburn, had been particularly useful. The little golden earth colored dude, with his vest and hat, took it upon himself to be the man’s sherpa. Not only did he show Anon the ropes, introducing him to the citizens of Appleloosa, but he was also the one responsible for getting him employment.
Anon, Braeburn, and a small team of earth ponies helped with the agricultural needs of the town, doing everything from planting, weeding, harvesting, and anything else the farms in the area needed. As the weeks passed, he found himself growing closer to the stallion; not in a romantic way, but more like close friends. The two would often pal around after work, shooting the breeze in the saloon at the end of a long day. In short, they’d quickly become somewhat of a dynamic duo.
Normally, there’d be enough to keep them busy in Appleloosa, although Braeburn had gotten word from his cousins a few days ago. Apparently, another branch of the Apple family was in need of assistance, which, according to Brae, wasn’t uncommon. A small home of ponies, living just outside some town called Ponyville, managed a rather sizeable apple orchard, and they were asking for any able hands, or hooves, to help with the harvest.
Leaving their co-workers behind, Anon and Braeburn boarded an outgoing train. Their harvest wasn’t going to come in for another month or two, until the temperatures began to drop, so they’d have plenty of time to work with. The only drawback was that the quickest locomotive heading to Ponyville wasn’t designed for passengers, being a freight train, so the two were left to ride amongst bales of hay. Still, all things considered, it could’ve been a less convenient trip, and at least they had relatively comfortable bedding to rest on.
The pair rode for most of the day, before finally pulling into Ponyville station at dusk. As they departed the train, hopping out onto the packed earth below, Anon surveyed the small village. It was actually a bit bigger than Appleloosa, with a crystalline castle looming in the distance. There weren’t may ponies out and about, likely due to the late hour, and only a single mare stood at the boarding platform.
“Well Ah’ll be. Braeburn, Ah’m surprised you actually showed up!” the mare shouted, trotting over to greet them. Orange of coat, she wore a large stetson, not dissimilar to Braeburn’s cowboy hat, and she had a comparable apple themed cutie mark. From her look, she could be none other than...
“Applejack, shucks, you didn’t expect me to duck out on you, did you?” Braeburn tutted, marching over to meet his cousin. Giving her a hug, he turned to face his bipedal friend. “Anon, this is Applejack. Applejack, this is Anon, that tall fella who found his way into town!” he said, introducing the two.
“Pleasure to meet ya, Partner,” Applejack chuckled, thrusting forth a hoof in welcome.
“Nice to meet you too,” Anon replied, leaning over to shake the proffered limb. Much like Braeburn, and most of the ponies he’d met, her head only reached his waist.
Standing back up, he re-adjusted his shoulder bag. Even though he’d arrived in Equestria with perilously little, he’d been lucky enough to have a tailor in Appleloosa fashion him a few pairs of jeans, shirts, and some underwear. Sure, he was going to need new shoes eventually; but for the time being, he had enough to get by.
“Ahlright, let’s get a move on. Big Macintosh and Apple Bloom should have the loft all tidied up for the two of ya,” Applejack announced, turning around and briskly trotting away.
Braeburn scampered up beside his cousin, chatting with her and catching up on events, while Anon trailed behind them. He smiled, watching the ponies laugh and joke about this or that. Ever since he’d arrived, he’d found the omnipresent air of warmth and benevolence of the world delightfully refreshing. Unlike Earth, Equestria lacked the cynical, perpetually dismal air of his home, and he was thankful for the change of pace.
The walk from the train station only took roughly half an hour, although it was already dark by the time they arrived at Sweet Apple Acres. As the name implied, groves of apple trees surrounded dozens of acres in every direction. Seeing all the trees, each laden with ripened fruit, Anon could understand why they could use some help with the impending harvest.
Cresting a hill, he got his first good look at the homestead proper. There was a modest, two story home, several outbuildings, and a large stable. Anon wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but the scene was quaint, almost picturesque. It reminded him of the stereotypical farms he’s seen on television, back on Earth. Steadily, in the dim moonlight, they approached the barn. As they drew nearer to the sizeable structure, the door swung open, and two figures emerged. One of them was small, foal sized, while the other was massive.
“Big Mac, y’all done fixin the upstairs for our guests?” Applejack hollered, waiving at the pair.
“Yup, we’re all done, Sis!” the smaller pony responded, scurrying over towards them. The larger figure plodded after her, leisurely taking his time.
“Anon, this here is Apple Bloom,” Applejack said, waving to the filly. “And that there,” she continued, nodding to the nearing pony, “is Big Macintosh.”
“Hey there, little missy!” Anon chuckled, squatting down to make himself seem less imposing. Her coat, a cream color, contrasted sharply against her scarlet mane, done up in an oversized bow. She paused, an arm’s length away, while she sized him up. She didn’t appear to be put off by his appearance; more curious, if nothing else.
“Well ain’t you a big fella. Applejack said cousin Braeburn was gonna be bringing a friend, and any friend of his is a friend of ours!” Applebloom chirped, beaming up at him.
The sound of heavy hooffalls caused Anon to look up, just as Big Macintosh stepped forward. Slowly, he got to his feet, appraising the titanic stallion. He was, by no small margin, the largest pony he’d ever seen. With a bright crimson coat, and shaggy, shortly cropped, orange mane and tail, he was an impressive sight. Not only was he tall, with his head coming up to Anon’s chest, but his frame was exceedingly heavily built. Thick strands of muscle could be seen under his fur, leaving no question of the stallion’s physical might. His eyes, an emerald green, studied him impassively.
“Pleased to meet you,” Anon said, offering a hand. Steadily, the stallion grasped it in his hoof, giving it a firm shake. While he still didn’t fully comprehend how ponies were able to manipulate objects with their hooves, Big Mac’s grip was quite striking.
“Don’t mind him, he ain’t much of a talker,” Braeburn snickered, watching the exchange. “Well, I’m not sure about Anon, but I’m plum tuckered out. That train ride was a doozy, and I’m sure y’all will be expectin’ to get started first thing in the mornin’, so we should probably get some rest,” he sighed, looking over to Applejack.
“Sure are! Mac’ll show y’all up to their room. Won’t ya, Mac?” Applejack said, more of a statement than a question, as she glanced over to her older sibling.
Mac’s eyes lingered on Anon for a moment, before he nodded. “Eeyup,” he intoned, slowly wheeling around to face the barn’s doorway. Steadily, he walked inside, with Anon and Braeburn in tow.
Now behind the large, red stallion, Anon’s gaze began to wander. Plodding along, Big Mac’s thighs glided past each other, just below his well defined glutes. While he’d initially thought he’d never find ponies attractive, his stance had slowly shifted. Personally, he blamed their hind quarters for his change of opinion.
Ponies were, by and large, rather cute creatures, what with their big eyes, smiling faces, and colorful aesthetic. From a physical standpoint, they didn’t have all that much in common with humans, being quadrupedal, although there was one trait they had which he found especially captivating. Their rumps were sublimely sculpted; in that, anyone with a proclivity for asses couldn’t help but admire them.
Suddenly, Big Mac stopped, shaking Anon from his stupor. Looking up, past the stallion’s flank, he saw the pony staring back at him. His expression was phlegmatic, nigh unreadable, as he affixed the man with his gaze. Silently, after a second, the pony turned his head, before nodding to a stairway setting against one wall.
“Thanks, Mac, we can see ourselves up,” Braeburn said, heading towards the stairs.
Either Braeburn had been ignorant of the mute exchange, he’d chosen to ignore it, or Anon was simply overthinking things. That being said, he could have sworn he’d seen something in the massive stallion’s eyes, although he couldn’t say what. Waving to Big Mac, he followed his friend upstairs.
“Is he...always that quiet?” Anon asked, attempting to ease his tension. The encounter left him feeling off. Not in an overtly bad way, but he had just been caught ogling a stallion’s rump.
“Who, Mac? Yeah, he’s always been the strong, silent type. At least, as long as I’ve known him. Applejack told me he used to be a chatterbox, back when he was younger, but that was a long time ago,” Braeburn explained, leading the way to their room.
The upstairs of the barn was pretty barren, with a few pieces of equipment neatly arrayed to one side. Towards the back of the loft, was their “room”. In the corner of the spacious area sat a pair of beds, a rocking chair, a weathered dresser, and a threadbare sofa. It wasn’t much, but it was serviceable. If Anon had to guess, the Apple family used the area for seasonal help, or possibly to lounge in after a long day’s work. Regardless, everything seemed clean and tidy, if not well worn.
“Alright, partner, I’m gonna hit the sack. Might not be a bad idea for you to do the same, seein’ as how we’re gonna be up mighty early,” Braeburn said, stifling a yawn.
Truth be told, Anon was pretty tired. Considering their trip hadn’t been the smoothest, and they’d been up since before dawn, the prospect of an actual bed was an inviting one. With nothing more to say, he moved towards the free mattress, situated next to Braeburn’s. Tossing his pack beside his friend’s unloaded saddle bag, he resigned himself to unpack in the morning; after all, they’d have time to properly settle in tomorrow.
Stripping off his shirt, as well as his pants, Anon settled into bed. The air was cool, but not unbearably so, so the thin sheet would prove sufficient for warmth. As his head rested on the pillow, his eyelids grew heavy. Still, fatigue aside, he couldn’t shake the thought of that look Big Macintosh had given him. He didn’t want to start things off on the wrong foot, so he’d try to talk to the hulking stallion in the morning. As he drifted off, thoughts of the crimson pony’s striking emerald eyes danced through his mind.
Anon slept like a brick. It was the sort of sleep where you pass out, dead to the world, only to wake up feeling like you just closed your eyes. Feeling something nudge his shoulder, he rolled over, wearily looking over to see who’d woken him. A pair of bright green, serene eyes greeted him, causing him to start.
With a softness belying his size, Big Macintosh had not only snuck up on him, but gently roused him from his slumber. Pushing himself up, Anon sized up the stallion. The tacit pony did likewise, coolly returning his gaze. Realizing he couldn’t just lie there all morning, he swung his feet over the side of the bed.
“Morning,” Anon grumbled, wiping the crust from his eyes.
“Mornin,” Mac uttered, his voice deep and sonorous, as he turned towards Braeburn’s bunk.
“So you can talk!” Anon grunted, glancing up at the stallion. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but Mac’s voice fit him perfectly.
“Mmmhmm,” the crimson pony hummed, softly jostling the still snoozing Braeburn.
For the second time in less than a day, Anon found himself appreciating Mac’s physique. He was just so much larger than any other pony he’d come across. Despite his size, he was remarkably graceful. Stallion or not, he couldn’t help but appreciate what he saw, and his body began to react. Feeling a stirring in his loins, he quickly averted his gaze.
“So, we’ve got a busy day ahead?” Anon asked, attempting to cease his mind from wandering. Steadily, he hauled himself from the bed. Getting to his feet, he donned his jeans and shoes, readying himself for the labors ahead.
“Eeyup,” Mac replied, allowing Braeburn to hop off the mattress.
“Mornin, Mac. Mornin, Anon,” Braeburn sleepily greeted, fetching his hat and vest from the bedpost. “We gonna have breakfast before we head out?” he inquired, hopefully looking to his cousin. Big Mac somberly shook his head, causing the gamboge maned stallion to halfheartedly kick at the floor. “Horse apples. And here I was hoping to get some of Granny Smith’s apple turnovers this mornin’,” he groaned.
“I mean, we are on an apple farm, so I’m sure Mac wouldn’t mind if we grab a bite while we work,” Anon said, looking to Bic Mac for affirmation. The large pony briskly nodded, confirming his assertion. Truth be told, he’d always had a fondness for apples, so he didn’t have a problem with having fruit for breakfast.
“Shucks, I suppose you’ve got a point,” Braeburn sighed, resigning himself to the somewhat lackluster choice of meal. If nothing else, he’d ask Granny Smith to make some of the pastries for them, at some point during their stay.
As Anon finished tying his shoes, he looked up at the two country ponies. “Alright, you guys ready to get movin’?” he pressed, giving himself a good stretch. As far as he was concerned, the sooner they got started, the sooner they’d get finished.
“Eeyup!” Mac enthusiastically shot back, trotting towards the stairs.
The three made their way downstairs, where a pair of apple carts awaited them, along with Apple Bloom and Applejack. Now in the daylight, Anon took a moment to appreciate the first floor of the building. Various pieces of farm equipment were neatly organized, and a handful of stalls sat upon one wall. If he had to guess, they were used for storage space, or possibly cattle during the winter months. Regardless, the area was neat and clean; truly, the hallmark of a well organized and maintained farm.
“Mornin’! Hope y’all are ready to get some work done!” Applejack cheerfully announced, hitching herself to one of the carts.
Anon nodded, watching as Big Mac moved to the matching cart. He wasn’t exactly sure how the day was going to play out, so he quietly followed behind Braeburn. With the front door of the barn open, a crisp autumn breeze flowed through the barn. Near as he could figure, it’d be the perfect day to start their harvest.
“Alright y’all, here’s the plan. Braeburn, Apple Bloom, and Ah will start whittling away on the eastern grove. Mac and Anon, y’all can get workin’ on the northern grove. Y’all got that?” Applejack proclaimed, looking between those gathered.
“But I thought I’d be workin with Anon. I mean, we do make quite a pair,” Braeburn said, moving to his friend’s side.
“I reckon ya do, but you know we got a system. Don’t suppose you know the best way to work through these orchards, do ya?” Applejack pressed, raising an eyebrow at her cousin.
Braeburn’s smile faltered, just before he frustratedly kicked at the dirt. “Dang it,” he grumbled, trotting over to Applejack’s cart.
“Alright, well, let’s get crackin. Oh, Mac, don’t think cause you got that tall fella’ that you’ll finish up before me this year,” the orange mare proudly stated. She didn’t sound egotistical or condescending, considering her tone had a playful edge to it.
Big Mac snorted, and he knit his brow. Now attached to the wagon, he looked over to his partner, with a determined look in his eye. Even though Anon had just met the guy, he knew the pony meant business. Slowly, the stallion started to trot, then canter, towards his ordained area of the farm. Applejack quickly followed suit, with Braeburn and Apple Bloom keeping pace beside her.
While Anon hadn’t expected their job to be a contest, he could appreciate the friendly competition. Jogging alongside Mac, he did his best to keep up. Thankfully, encumbered by the wagon, Mac wasn’t able to go too terribly fast. Truth be told, it was quite the little morning workout, something which he didn’t usually engage in.
Thankfully, the two reached their designated area in a matter of minutes, and neither of them were that winded. Pulling the cart beneath a tree, Mac unhitched himself, before trotting over to the plant’s trunk. To his amazement, and without any ceremony, the stallion delivered a mighty kick to the tree’s base, causing a vast amount of apples to fall. A great many landed in the cart, although roughly half dropped to the ground below.
While Anon had seen apple bucking before, he couldn’t remember a stallion dropping that many with one kick. Strolling over to the cart, he retrieved two empty baskets from its bed. In Appleloosa, he’d try to catch as many as he could, while standing below the tree; then he’d help gather up whatever was left. It was a simple, yet effective, system.
And so the day unfolded thusly; move cart, buck tree, gather apples, start again. Although it may have sounded boring, it was actually rather relaxing. The temperature was perfect, the sun shone brightly overhead, and the soft sound of song birds echoed through the countryside. In short, it was actually quite enjoyable.
Between the repetitive movements, and his laconic partner, Anon’s mind wandered; not on anything particular, just slipping from thought to thought. That was, until Mac started turning the cart all the way around. He hadn’t even realized it, but they’d already filled the wagon with apples, and they were ready to return to the barn to unload.
Smiling proudly, he walked over to the stallion. “Heck yeah, high five!” he exclaimed, holding out his palm. Mac’s quizzical look reminded him of the proper Equestrian terminology. “I mean, hoof bump!” he corrected, balling his hand into a fist. His partner smiled, realizing what he’d meant, before silently returning the gesture.
With that, the two proceeded back to the barn, with Mac hauling the fully laden wagon. Anon didn’t force him to do all the work, of course; standing behind the cart to help push, while moving over the many hills on the farmland. Gathering the apples was a breeze, compared to moving several hundred pounds of the things. Still, they eventually made their way back.
“Hah! Looks like we’re the first ones to offload a cart!” Anon noted, somewhat smugly, as he rammed a chock under one of the wagon’s wheels.
“Eeyup,” Mac affirmed, beginning to unhitch himself.
Following Mac to a supply stall, towards the back of the barn, Anon found great piles of stacked baskets. They were, if he had to guess, how they sold the produce to the ponies and businesses in town. Squatting down, he gathered up an armful. Before he could stand, he glanced over his shoulder, and paused.
Standing a few feet away was Big Mac. It happened so fast that he almost wasn’t sure if it’d happened at all, but he could swear the stallion was looking at his backside. It could have been a coincidence, having caught Mac at an inopportune time, so who could really say. Thinking little of it, he got back to his feet and trudged back to the open area of the barn.
It didn’t take them long to get everything off their cart, and before Anon knew it, they were making the return trip to their work area. The pair made short work of the offload, depositing the apples into the baskets. They toiled in silence, until the cart was emptied. Re-fastening himself to it, Mac led the way out of the barn, with Anon walking along beside him. It only took them about twenty minutes to return to their harvesting area, whereupon they set themselves to task.
Passing an apple laden tree, he reached up and grabbed two of the succulent fruit. Maybe it was their energetic start, but he’d almost forgotten that they hadn’t eaten anything yet. Pulling the wagon to the area where they’d stopped harvesting, Mac began the process of freeing himself.
“Here, let me,” Anon muttered, setting down his apples, before bending over slightly to undo the strap about Mac’s chest. The stallion’s body was hot, quite warm to the touch, and slick with sweat. As he released the leather belt, his hand lingered on the pony’s shoulder. Hard, yet yielding, Mac’s physique was even more impressive to actually feel. Why, he could even pick up the striations on the pony’s shoulder muscle.
Despite himself, Anon smiled; at least, he did for a second. As he looked over, he realized the stallion was staring dead at him. Not only that, but when their gazes’ met, he could have sworn Mac blushed slightly. Quickly standing back up, he brushed his hands off on his pants.
“Sorry, just had to fiddle with the buckle,” he lied, hoping the pony would buy it. Solemnly Mac looked away, then moved towards the back of the wagon.
Buck tree, gather apples, move on. It was steady work, and the two were slowly starting to get worn down. As healthy and steadfast at they were, it was a war of attrition, one which Big Mac and Anon were beginning to wither beneath. Crossing over a hill, having cleared a sizable portion of the valley beneath it, the pair looked out over a stream.
“You wouldn’t mind if we take a break, would you?” Anon asked, wiping his face. Not only was he parched, but he’d begun to work up quite a sweat.
“Nnnope!” Mac replied, making a bee-line towards the glittering water.
Jogging down to the bank, Anon pulled his shirt up and over his head. He wasn’t sure what Mac had planned, but he fully intended on taking a quick dip. As he pulled off his shoes, he heard the sound of approaching hooves slow. Thinking little of it, he unfastened his pants, allowing the garment to fall to the ground.
Turning around, he expected to find Big Mac undoing his harness, or perhaps moving to the water’s edge, but neither were the case. The crimson stallion stood frozen, like a statue, as his eyes wandered over Anon’s frame. The pony’s expression was, unlike before, rather unfocused, almost dreamy. Realizing he may have caught the pony sneaking a peek, Anon decided to act.
“What? Never seen a shirtless human before?” he teased, placing his hands on his hips. He was partially joking, and would openly state it, although he wanted to gauge Mac’s reaction. The stallion shook his head, his focus shifting to Anon’s face. “You want me to keep going?” Anon pressed, hitching his thumbs over his shorts. To his utter astonishment, the stallion nodded.
Anon and Mac stood still, transfixed by one another. Anon wasn’t sure if the tables had been turned, if Big Mac was playing some sort of game with him. He was just so big, and stoic, and attractive. He gulped, just as the word formed in his mind. Could he actually have a thing for this pony.
To be fair, Mac was an exquisitely built stallion, strong and silent, but he’d never felt this way for a pony before. Sure, he’d had passing thoughts about dudes, back on Earth, although this was different, wasn’t it? His pulse quickened, as he looked over the stallion’s sweat slickened body; over his neck, across his flank, down to his dark, flaccid…
His eyes darted up to meet Mac’s, upon seeing the dangling length of brick red stallionhood. Anon wasn’t sure what to feel. Why had Mac’s junk slipped from its sheath? Did Mac actually think he was hot? Was it possible that he found this hunk of a stallion attractive? So many questions, yet despite them all, Anon could feel his shorts beginning to tent.
“I...it’s not what you think!” Anon blurted, covering his groin with a hand. Squatting down, he fumbled to grab his pants, but before he could stand, a shadow moved over him. Looking up, his eyes went wide. Somehow, Mac had freed himself to stealthily, and alarmingly quickly, stand over him.
The two were face to face, quite literally, with only about an inch or two separating the two. Anon was close enough to appreciate the stallion’s scent. Floral notes, sweat, and an earthy, masculine musk danced through his sinuses. As he moved to stand, Mac’s head shot forward, leaving his lips locked with the pony’s.
Anon’s heart fluttered, feeling the warm, velvety lips of the stallion. Instinctively, he wrapped one hand around Mac’s neck, partially to keep himself from falling backward. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation, as Mac towered over him. He couldn’t be sure how long they stayed like that, but eventually their kiss was broken.
“You really think I’m hot?” Anon murmured, keeping his face close to the pony’s. Mac nodded, blushing a bit as he did. “So...what are we supposed to do now?” he asked, unsure of how to proceed. He had just kissed a pony, and he wasn’t at all acquainted with interspecies etiquette, so the question wasn’t unfounded.
Big Mac looked up at him, smiled, and stepped forward. Gently, yet firmly, he bowled Anon onto his back, onto the soft grass of the field. With the man’s pants around his ankles, it wasn’t that difficult to do, although he wasn’t finished yet.
“What are you…” Anon trailed off, watching Mac’s head lower to his groin. He gulped, seeing the stallion’s snout approach the growing bulge in his underwear. There was no mistaking what the stallion was after, so he didn’t make a move to stop him. With the memory of Mac’s kiss fresh on his mind, especially considering how warm and pillowy soft the pony’s lips were, he didn’t want to jeopardize what he assumed was going to happen.
Carefully, almost reverently, Mac pulled Anon’s shorts down, allowing the man’s tool to spring free. The pony paused, presumably to study the dick before him. It was highly unlikely that he’d ever seen a human’s equipment before, so it was understandable. After a moment, he leaned in and gave it a cursory sniff.
The attention, while not off-putting, caused Anon’s blush to deepen. Before he could say anything, he gasped, as Mac dragged his tongue up his shaft. Looking down, he locked eyes with his unexpected partner, just as his length slipped past the the pony’s lips. Mac’s mouth felt incredible, warm and inviting, around his cock.
Sitting there, propped up on one arm, Anon watched Mac’s head rhythmically bob up and down. Lovingly, he reached forward with his free hand to caress his partner’s face. His touch caused the pony to glance up at him and smile. As strange as it was, the whole situation was devilishly hot.
Carefully, he ran his fingers through Mac’s mane, before gently pulling his head down. It wasn’t like he was trying to be rude or anything, he was simply acting on impulse. Apparently the stallion took the hint, as additional suction was applied to his member. “F...fuck,” he stammered, gnawing his lip. Sitting up fully, he placed his other hand on Mac’s head.
If pony blowjobs were this impressive, he’d really been missing out. The sight of Mac’s muzzle, gliding over his shaft, was captivating and, in his opinion, even hotter than watching another human suck him off. Sadly, the moment wasn’t to last. Just as he was really getting into it, with his hips faintly twitching, Mac stopped. The lack of warmth around his dick was jarring, almost alarmingly so. His eyes flew open, looking around and expecting something to be the matter. As far as he could tell, they were still alone, except Mac was backing up slightly.
Confused, he watched the stallion ponderously turn, before splaying his hind legs a bit. With glacial speed, Mac lowered his his chest to the ground. Anon gulped, watching the gigantic, perfectly presented crimson ass before him. It was painfully obvious what he was expected to do, although he wouldn’t have anticipated he’d be as excited as he was.
Scrambling to his feet, he kicked the shorts free of his legs. Walking up behind Mac, he knelt down behind the pony, to appreciate the offer. Between the two massive, muscular cheeks rested a dark, succulent pucker, just above a pair of dark, weighty balls; each of them had to be nearly baseball size, but Anon wasn’t discouraged. If Mac wanted to get some service, by god, he was going to get it.
Without preamble, Anon dug his face into the pony’s rump. Immediately, his sinuses were filled with the musky, masculine scent of the stallion. His tongue darted out, working its way up Mac’s taint and to his tail hole. Considering they were in the middle of an apple orchard, far from any sort of lube, saliva would have to suffice. Kissing and rimming his partner, Anon’s length twitched. He was rock hard, almost painfully so, and he wasn’t sure how long he could wait.
A throaty, contented hum escaped Big Mac, as his ass was feasted upon. Rocking his hips back, he ground the man’s face and tongue deeper. Out of nowhere, something fondled his nuts, nearly causing him jump. Quickly looking between his legs, he realized it was Anon. Hands were, understandably, a somewhat foreign concept.
Pulling his head back, Anon licked his lips. Getting to his feet, he grabbed the base of his cock and guided it to Mac’s entrance. Their height was almost perfect, allowing him to be positioned for the task at hand with ease. Looking up to Mac’s face, the stallion nodded, signalling him to proceed. Steadily, he began to sink himself into the pony.
As Anon slid into Mac’s confines, the two sighed in unison. Shuffling forward, he grabbed the stallion’s hips, while he continued to bury himself into his partner. Glancing down, he watched as every bit of his length disappeared, leaving his waist pressed against Mac’s ass. Honestly, it was more snug than he’d expected, considering most stallions were rocking larger equipment than himself.
After giving Mac a moment to adjust, Anon began to move. Steadily, he withdrew, leaving only an inch or so inside, before plunging back in. Between the blowjob and rimming, there seemed to be enough lube for now, so he decided to make the best of it. Digging his fingers into Mac’s waist, he pulled the pony to himself, synchronizing their movements. To his amusement, a low moan escaped his partner. Content that they were both enjoying themselves, Anon picked up the pace.
Their slow, methodical movements steadily transitioned into outright fucking. Anon thrust into the stallion, while Mac rocked himself back to meet the man’s thrusts. With every plunge, their bodies collided, causing the soft, rhythmic sound of flesh on flesh to fill the air; that was, until their voices could be heard.
Hammering into Mac’s ass, Anon attempted to stifle himself, although the periodic grunt did escape him. His partner, however, wasn’t as controlled. Each time the man hilted himself, Mac groaned, and he was getting louder by the minute. Thankfully, nobody was around to see the scandalous sight.
Anon’s movements gradually became more jerky, less steady, as he continued. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to last forever, especially because it had been ages since he’d gotten any action. “In or out?” he wheezed, not wanting to administer an unwanted creampie. To his surprise, Mac went rigid, stepped away, before he damn near ran over to the back of nearby wagon.
Finding himself exposed, he looked over to the stallion. Standing at the back of the cart, Mac waved him over, almost frantically, before darting out of view. Stepping around, Anon was greeted by a wonderful sight. Somehow, his partner had gotten onto the bed of the wagon, rolled onto his back, and spread his hind legs.
It was like something out of a porno. Big Macintosh, spread eagle, with his ass hanging off of the end of the cart. His stallionhood, easily triple the size of the man’s tool, throbbed against his belly, smearing his fur with pre-cum. With eyes full of longing, he silently implored Anon to rut him, to give him everything he had. Saints above, it was just perfect.
Stepping between the pony’s thighs, Anon hastily brought himself to Mac’s ass. He was desperate, almost craven with his approach. Feeling the head of his cock press into the stallion’s succulent pucker, he drove forward. There was no preamble, no tender love making; this was two creatures yearning for release, more than satisfied with scratching the other’s itch.
Jackhammering into Mac’s rump, Anon’s eyes drifted to the log of flesh slapping against his partner’s abdomen. He’d never sucked a dick before, but he figured now was as good of a time as any. Reaching down, he wrapped his fingers around the girthy shaft, before angling it up towards his face. The damn thing was big enough that he didn’t have to lean forward all that far.
Bringing the bloated, fat tip to his lips, he started kissing and running his tongue around it. Mac’s pre-cum was salty and, interestingly enough, vaguely fruity; not bad in the slightest. With one hand wrapped around his partner’s thigh, he stroked the length of pony meat with the other. It was awkward, although Mac certainly didn’t seem to mind, considering his moans raised an octave.
Two dudes, a man and a horse, who’s been eyeing one another for the past day. Somewhere along the line, curiosity had turned into lust, eventually leading to the heated exchange. Anon pounded away, as furiously as before, while Mac grasped at the bed of the wagon, his cock in his partner’s hands and mouth.
What little composure Anon had gained, from the sudden pause, quickly withered away. He’d seen enough smut to realize that if he angled his thrusts properly, he should be able to directly impact Mac’s prostate; so he did just that. Leaning back slightly, he shifted his movements to accost the stallion’s p-spot, to dramatic effect.
A vulgar, almost feminine moan escaped Big Mac. It was, by no small margin, the loudest thing Anon had heard from the pony, and it spurred him to continue. His plunges shifted from long and steady to a rapid fire series of thrusts. He hoped he’d be able to make his partner cum with, or just before, he did, because he wasn’t going to last long. Mercifully, he got his wish.
Anon felt the thick length of stallionhood in his hands pulsate, and its head started to expand in his mouth. Popping it out, he fiercely tongued Mac’s urethra, while continuing to pump his shaft. Teetering on the precipice himself, he hilted in his partner, causing his cock to squarely hammer against the pony’s sweet spot.
He would have released a climactic cry of his own, were it not for the tsunami of jizz that hosed his face and open maw. Like a fire hydrant, Mac blew his load over Anon, dousing him with hot, sticky seed. Gulping down what he could, his hips fitfully bucked, as he blew his load in the pony’s ass.
The two stayed locked together, writhing about, as they rode out their orgasms. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity, and at least a pint full of cumulative spunk later, their motions slowed. Anon looked down at Big Mac’s heaving chest, whilst licking cum from his lips. Releasing his grip on the pony’s stallionhood, he let it wetly flop against his partner’s underbelly.
“Fuck,” Anon panted, wiping some of the gooey substance from his face. Thank god he’d taken his clothes off, or else his garments would’ve been absolutely spackled with the stuff. “Hey, you good there, big guy?” he asked, patting Mac’s thigh. The stallion looked utterly insensate, as if in a stupor. He hoped Mac would be able to recompose himself, because he really didn’t want to explain to Applejack or Braeburn what they’d been doing.
“E...eeyup,” Mac croaked, drunkenly looking up at the man.
“You...uh...wanna get cleaned up?” Anon pressed, hitching a thumb at the nearby stream. Even if they continued to work, they’d need to wash up.
Big Mac nodded, before shakily moving to roll over. His position was awkward as it was, not to mention that Anon was still buried in his ass. Carefully, the man pulled out and helped the pony to the ground. He was heavier than he looked, somehow, but they managed to get Mac on his hooves safely.
After proceeding to the creek, and thoroughly rinsing themselves off, the pair half-heartedly harvested apples for nearly an hour. Frankly, neither of them were in the best mindset to work, and they kept snickering at one another, so their productivity suffered. Eventually, after half-filling the cart, they decided to return to the barn. It was well after lunch, and they’d gone without a proper meal all day, so quitting wasn’t unreasonable.
Trotting back to the farm, they noticed Applejack, Braeburn, and Apple Bloom outside the large structure. Upon seeing them, the three waved, as they grew nearer. Mac and Anon had agreed to remain silent about their experience, lest it cause unneeded conversations in the future. Still, it was an eye opening encounter for them both, and one which neither would soon forget...