Consent

Note: Prompted by this image.

Ah context, where for art thou, context? If it be thy observer’s will to emerge, thou surely jest.

“Um... Applejack?” Spike squeaked to the woman straddling him.

Maintaining eye contact became one of the most laborious challenges of the young man’s life. She smiled and cooed, “Yes, sugarcube?”

“Y-You know this is probably illegal, right?” he tried to ask with more confidence in his voice. Inevitably, it came out as another whimper. He found he could do little else while in his predicament; squeak unintelligibly and sweat. The product of his borderline fear beaded on the sides of his face and rolled to the quilt below. Resisting the urge to wipe his brow, he kept his arms by his sides. Even if he made an attempt to move the appendages, they were pinned down by her thighs.

Applejack relaxed her muscular arms, placed either side of the spiky green haired adolescent, letting her face fall to his. She grinned seductively, pressing her forehead against his own. “Ah think you’re old enough, sugar,” she whispered, before giving the end of his nose a playful lick.

He shuddered as the farmer trailed a finger down the centre of his chest, his back sinking lower into the bed. “W... Why are you doing this?”

Spike received a more or less straightforward answer in the form of a tender kiss on the lips. The twenty three year old held it for long moments before withdrawing, the golden locks from her fringe tickling his brow. “I just wanted to show ya how much I love ya for helpin’ around the farm while Big Mac’s been sick.”

“I-I-It’s really nothing, AJ.” It really was nothing. He had only been able to perform organisational tasks, his physical ability lacking. “I’m... I’m glad I could help.” Spike had hoped to shift the subject to something a little less... sexual, but clearly failed.

She placed her palms on his shoulders and leaned in close. “It ain’t nothin’, Spike. Ya gave up yer time assistin’ Twilight, the most important thing in the world to you, to come an’ help me. Ah’m truly touched that Ah’m that important to you.”

The assistant laughed nervously, looking away. “Hehe, well Twilight didn’t really need any help so...” His train of thought tilted dangerously on it’s tracks as his eyes, desperate not to look at Applejack’s, wandered to the vee of her loosely fitting, abdomen exposing top. It quickly became apparent she was not wearing a bra. “Uh... I was... you needed it...” He fought a losing battle to keep his eyes averted, away from the exposed flesh. “...more.”

His stops and starts were not lost on Applejack. She could see his fleeting glances downward, and relished the look on his face as she reached up with a single hand and began unbuttoning her shirt. Spike could feel the reverberations of his pounding heart in his cranium. The defences keeping her top hugged around her bust were reduced to two easily undone buttons. The mattress squeaked quietly as she shifted her weight from his groin to his thighs in order to take his arms out from under her. Lifting them by the wrists, she returned to her previous position, mounted atop the almost limp figure whom watched on as if he were reliving a dream. She sat up vertically, in complete control of his arms.

Breathing heavily, he let his hands be guided to grasp either side of her hips. They trailed down from her belt and across her denim short shorts. She pressed his hands tightly against her thighs and eased them into a slow, circular rubbing motion. Her smooth, tanned skin felt incredible under his touch. Moving upwards, she lead him around her slender waist. His thumb flicked briefly over her belly button, his will to resist ebbing away under her voluptuous curves. Applejack continued to smile as she teased him, trailing his fingers up her sides.

It took longer than Spike would have liked to admit to register that he was holding her breasts in his hands. Her nipples tickled his palms through her thin shirt. Her arms had returned to either side of his shoulders. The wheels in his head struggled to turn, the hamster responsible for powering them apparently having suffered a fatal heart attack. Applejack spared no time for Mr Squeaky’s funeral, however, as she had only one thing on her mind; the cute young man below her.

He was visibly shaking, the situation on the verge of overwhelming him. Seeing this, the farmer placed one of her hands over his and rubbed it softly with her thumb. “It’s alright, sugar,” she cooed, “We c’n take this nice an’ slow.” She kissed him again, this time letting her tongue slip into his mouth. His eyes grew wide as the hot, wet muscle danced around his own. Applejack smiled into the kiss, feeling Spike’s fingers contract just slightly around her breasts, barely realising he was doing it.

The feeling of her lips against his, coupled with the softness of her bosoms cupped in his grasp, brought a stiffness to the area between his legs. It seemed to grow slowly but rhythmically, in synchrony with the beating of his heart. He began to worry she would feel it, given that she was essentially sitting on it. His hands snaked around to the sides of her chest in an attempt to coax her closer. She replied with gusto, opting to lie completely on top of him. The hands that had previously held her above the young form caressed his green hair. Spike might have felt a little claustrophobic, were he not deeply enjoying being crushed by the older woman. Slowly, Applejack broke the kiss.

The world turned upside down. She effortlessly rolled over on the bed, reversing their positions. He blinked at his new found superiority. Spike straddled her lower waist, not quite tall enough to go any lower. Heat rose to his face as she pushed an open hand from his stomach up to his chest forcefully enough to wrinkle and lift the fabric at the bottom of his purple shirt, revealing the supple skin of his navel. He let out a ragged breath as, with one hand, she massaged the muscles from the base of his neck to his left shoulder. Her short fingernails dragged slowly down his arm until they crested the back of his hand. Holding it with two gentle grips, she kissed his knuckle, savoring his slight quivers.

Satisfied that the fist was thoroughly coated in her affection, she laid it on her chest and gestured towards the remaining two buttons on her top. “Would ya’ mind?” she hinted. Spike audibly gulped at the proposition. She never took her eyes off him as he fumbled around. What should have been been easy became a complex operation, the buttons refusing to come undone. He reeled back when the farmer took a side of the shirt in each hand and pulled it open forcefully. The buttons gave way immediately, skittering messily to the floor.

Spike took stock of his position. Sitting on a beautiful woman’s firm stomach while she gazed up at him lustfully and bare chested. His eyes fixated on her well rounded breasts. They were one of her greatest features. Aside from her face, they were certainly the most prominent. They had all the right curves, perky and irresistible. A pressure on the back of his head pushed him closer. Applejack moaned as the adolescent instinctively took her areola into his mouth, closing his eyes and suckling it cautiously. She ran her fingers through the hair on the back of his head with one hand, rubbing his shoulder blade with the other.

Working his arms around her chest and under her shirt, Spike pulled himself deeper into her bosom. The sweat from her work in the fields had left her teat tasting surprisingly salty. He circled the nipple with his tongue slowly, loving the bumpy texture. He looked up with a start, making a soft slurping sound. There was no doubt in his mind that she could feel his stiffness through his trousers.

“You’re so cute.” She smiled, the triangles of freckles on either cheek climbing to just below her eyes. She pushed him up into a sitting position, then over onto his back, head resting just short of the foot of the bed. Crawling over to him, she touched her nose to the end of his. Spike went cross eyed trying to look at it. “Close your eyes,” Applejack instructed simply.

“Wha-?”

Silencing the curious youth with a swift pair of fingers, she little more than whispered, “Trust me,” as if that explained everything.

He nodded meekly and complied. Her weight left him suddenly. Not daring to disobey the woman several times stronger than him, he rested his head back and listened for any hints of her actions. The was a high pitched zipping noise, which concerned him a little. He could hear the soft slide of flesh on the quilt, and something fluttering through the air right before something hit his forehead.

“What the?” He peeled the denim shorts from his face. Holding it outstretched with one arm, Spike sat up. “What is this?” Had his eyelids stretched any wider, his eyes would likely have rolled out of his head.

Applejack lay completely naked save for her signature brown stetson hat. Propped up by several silken pillows, her arms reached out either side of her as if pinned down by some invisible beast. Her legs were crossed teasingly. Starting at her chest, she seductively rubbed her hands down the sides of her body. They met at her groin, cupping just below the small tuft of blond hair.

Shifting uncomfortably, Spike tried to hide his arousal. “Is... is this really happening? Are you sure you really want to...?” His voice trailed off.

She pat the area next to her. “Why don’t ya come on up here and find out yerself?”

Spike made his way over nervously, on his knees. His jaw reflexively clenched at the small view of her lower lips. They peeked and taunted him. No, what was he thinking? It was nothing more than flesh, albeit extremely alluring. It alone could not beckon him closer. His primeval instincts were the real culprit, commanding him to reproduce. Twilight had always told him they were nothing but primitive and hormonal, to be ignored. He had always imagined this was how it felt. Like some savage animal, the reproductive portion of his brain snarled at him to simply fornicate with the woman before him and be done with it.

But he hadn’t expected it to be conflicted. At the same time, an equally powerful voice wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to her and kiss her again, despite how unmanly those thoughts were.

His boots seemed to sink deeper into the mud with every aching stride. The squelching sound by itself was unpleasant, much less the feeling of the the slush lapping at the the cuffs of his jeans every time he planted his foot. Spike didn’t stop to try and find a drier path. He pushed on and kept running blindly through the roaring black abyss. He raised his forearm across his face defensively. It did little to soften the onslaught of pelting raindrops that had already soaked most of his clothes. In a way, he was glad. The layer of water on his cheeks masked his own tears, as few as they were. The bag slung over his shoulder, full of the only possessions he could call his own, shook and rattled out of synchrony with the rest of his body.

He did not know where he was going, nor did he care. His movements became erratic as his tired body fought exhaustion. His steps became clumsy and misplaced. What happened next was inevitable.

The mud-caked tread of his boot lost all traction against the finely saturated ground. His leg slid effortlessly out from under him, sending him sprawling. The fall left most of his side covered in grey ooze, from his knee, all the way up to his elbow and chin. He pushed a trembling hand into the mud, sinking in so far he could only see it’s outline. Stifling a frustrated scream, he tried to lift himself back to his feet, only to find he had even less grip on the earth than he had before. His head shook with pent up anger and sorrow. Spike lifted a fist into the air and threw it into the ground with all the strength he could muster, as if the mud itself was responsible for his rage.

Sullenly looking up, he glanced to his surroundings. He could barely make out the silhouettes of the rustling trees on either side of him. It felt like he’d been running down this path for hours. With any potential landmarks rendered invisible by the darkness, the youth could not even tell which way he had come. No longer concerned about the state of his now brown and purple jacket, he dragged himself to a nearby fencepost. The peeling white paint made for ample purchase, despite being slick with rainwater.

A bolt of electricity forked across the sky and for a split second, illuminated the area around the boy. Using the terribly generic fence as support, Spike trudged further down the ill maintained road. Up ahead, it was bisected by a smaller road, only wide enough for a single cart to comfortably traverse. It looked vaguely familiar. Almost like...

Like a heavenly beacon, a speck of orange light perforated the plutonian night through the hallway of apple trees. Spike stepped towards it and squinted. He dared not to question how he could be thrown such a lifeline by fate. Instead, he took to a sprint once again, desperate for shelter.

The source of the light loomed in the darkness. The corridor of trees soon gave way to large clearings and open fields. Spike approached the lonely, double storey house with trepidation. The floorboards creaked as he stepped onto the porch. The stained glass embedded into the door glowed softly as he drew close. He raised his hand to knock, but hesitated. Would she even help him? His fist made the correct movements, but couldn’t seem to connect with the timber. After a few more attempts, he gave in to the mental block. Just as the crestfallen boy turned away, he heard a click. The doors hinges sighed as a a torrent of pale gold light washed over the area around him.

“Spike? Is that you?” Applejack’s voice floated out above the din.

He froze, looking down at his shadow. A second silhouette came into view, far lower than his own.

“What are you doing all the way out here?”

Spike dropped to his knees, slouching. He murmured something the tenant of the house couldn’t quite understand.

“What was that?” she asked, taking a cautious, bare-foot step toward the figure of the boy.

His voice cracked and chocked on the words. “I said... I... can’t tell you, Applejack. I just... I just...”

Spike felt something grasp his limply dangling hand. It’s fingers interlocked with his own, wonderfully warm and dry. Blinking, he eased his head toward the presence crouched beside him. “Here’s the deal. Ah c’n give ya’ a nice warm bath and a place to stay the night, but ya have ta tell me what in tarnation is goin' on, promise?"

He nodded slowly.

Wordlessly, she stood, still holding his hand. With a gentle tug she gestured for him to rise and follow. He complied, standing unsteadily. Removing his mud covered shoes, he entered the house.

As much as he felt he shouldn’t, Spike could not help but notice the woman’s lack of pants as she lead him through the pale green washed hall and into the bathroom. Her choice of briefs, although uncustomary, came as no real surprise. It was highly likely she had just thrown on the shirt that she now wore to appear decent while she answered the door.

Just like the rest of the farmhouse, the bathroom blushed with porcelain modesty. He could feel the coolness of the tiles through his thin socks.

* * *

Spike tugged at the over sized collar of his shirt, thankfully borrowed from a sleeping Big Macintosh. He didn’t wear it as much as it swallowed him. The hem reached almost halfway down his thighs, almost obscuring the loosely fitting bright red short shorts, also courtesy of Applejack’s brother.

The fireplace crackled softly, the flames throwing light across the floor and reasonably distanced rug. It was enough to both warm the room from the cold of the storm outside and eliminate the need for further lighting. Applejack looked up at him from her seat on the couch and smiled warmly. Next to her rested a large blanket, no doubt intended to be his for the night.

“Ah’d let ya bunk with me,” said Applejack, much to his surprise, “But Ah’m told Ah snore.”

“Th... That’s okay. I’ll be fine out here.” Spike sat down between her and the blanket, attempting to avoid eye contact by opting to stare blindly at the fire. He wanted to delay what was coming next for as long as possible. He knew she was looking at him before she even spoke.

“Now... Why are ya out here?”

The boy turned to the woman sullenly, looking down at her stomach. “I... ran away.”

“What?” She turned her body towards him and leaned closer. “Why would you do that?”

Spike slumped back in the couch, closing his eyes. “Because Twilight doesn’t need me any more. I’ve been replaced by that stupid owl.” He clasped his hand across his eyes. “She... She doesn’t... love me any more.”

Applejack gently wrapped her arm around the youth’s shoulders and pulled him close to her breast. He barely reacted at all. “Sugar, Twilight loves ya and always will. Ya can’t go runnin’ away just because Twilight isn't paying as much attention to ya."

Sniffling, the boy leaned away slightly. "It's not just Twilight. It's like in two days, he gets more appreciation from everyone than I get in two years. You all just like Owloysius more than me..."

"How could ya think that? We all love ya, Twilight, Fluttershy, Pinkie Pie, Rarity, even Rainbow Dash, though she'll never admit it."

Spike let himself be pulled back closer to the woman. “You too?” he whispered, looking up at her.

Her smile softened to a small curl on one end of her mouth. She rubbed the back of his head consolingly. “O’ course, especially me.”

Without another thought, Spike swivelled around and crushed himself into Applejack’s chest. In turn, She reciprocated the embrace as best she could. Closing her eyes, she rested her chin on the freshly washed, forest green hair atop his head. The boy squeezed her tighter in a vain attempt to draw her closer. He sighed through his nose, his cheek against her breast. “Thanks Applejack.”

They held the position for what seemed like an eternity until the youth’s breathing slowed to a gentle rise and fall of his chest. At Applejack’s guidance, he slid down across her stomach and to her bare thighs.

He had always felt a sense of security around the buff apple farmer. Even when she had first grabbed him by the shoulders, thrust him onto the bed and mounted him, he had not felt endangered. A little confused, perhaps.They had always been very close, but to go from close friends to intimate lovers seemed like a rather big step. Their friends, over time, had noticed them getting closer, but thought it nothing more than a brother-sister relationship. The former had wondered why, despite the bond they shared, he just could not see her as a sibling. Now he was beginning to understand.

Applejack rose to meet him, reaching down and lifting up his shirt. She anticipated the look of hesitance, being his first time. Pulling him down to be lying next to her, breast to breast, she removed the purple fabric completely from his form. The apple farmer felt down the sides of his chest, over his pale and scrawny frame. His hair prickled as she rubbed the small of his back.

He grunted throatily when she gripped him through the crotch of his pants. She moved her hand back and forth, rewarded with deep, lustful moans reverberating into her chest. Spike’s eyes shot open when she started sliding down his body. “Applejack, I… I don’t know…”

“Oh?” she interrupted, her face inches from his groin. “But Ah do know.” Applejack unbuckled his belt before he had time to react and threw it across the room. Spike silently cursed his loose fitting jeans. They were worked off with relative ease. He was left trying to cover up the awkward lump underneath his underwear, his face as red as the apples he had spent the last week helping cart around the farm.

The bushel of apples impacted the ground far harder than he would have liked. Some of the fruit spilled out and hit the dirt floor of the barn. Spike winced. They would more than likely bruise. Placing both hands behind his head, he leaned against the barn door and took a moment to catch his breath. Gradually, his heart rate came back to a normal pace. He wiped the sweat from his brow with a forearm and sighed. Neither Applejack or Big Macintosh had any trouble carting multiple bushels around. He could barely lift one. It may have been petty, but his pride took a little kick at that.

Brought out of his musings by a the crow of a rooster somewhere outside, he turned his attention to the apples dropped to the ground. He picked one of the galas up and eyed it critically. Other than a light layer of dust, it seemed undamaged. Examining the others strewn about, most were in a similar state. After a gentle dust off, he returned them to the bushel.

Dirt crunched softly under heavy footfalls. Spike could see her shadow in the orange wash cast through the doorway. The humanoid umbrage turned towards him, leaning against the unopened door casually.

Without so much as a glance, Spike addressed the figure. “I’m almost done, Applejack. Just a few more left.”

He heard a chuckle. “Ah took care ‘a the rest, Spike.”

He slouched, sighing.

The voice laughed again.

Applejack smiled from under her Stetson. She straddled his knees, settling her breasts on the hands clasped protectively over the boy’s crotch. Her nipples pressed into the backs of his hands, coaxing them to move, but they held firm. They wouldn’t move without a little… distraction. Taking Spike completely by surprise, she reached out and placed her hat on his head. She rarely ever took her hat off, much less gave it to someone else. His face twisted in confusion and brought up his hands to finger it, not quite sure if it was really there.

Gotcha!

Spike’s admittedly small manhood popped out of the protection of his underwear. Applejack looked up to his shocked face as she clasped her hand around his most sensitive organ, fitting easily. She raised an eyebrow, smirking in victory. The boy looked away in shame. He blinked and tried to swallow the lump that formed in his throat. “I... I… I…”

The woman let her eyes go half lidded and lowered her head.

His head threw back into a waiting pillow. The adolescent’s face contorted as if he had just taken a generous swig of concentrated lemon juice. His arms flung out wildly, digging at the quilt as he battled to cope with the intense pleasure brought on by Applejack’s tongue. She lapped at it hungrily as if it were some sort of popsicle; an appropriate analogy, he sure felt like he was melting.

“App… Jack…” He stammered, his voice extremely strained. He forced himself to look down at her as she circled his tip with her tongue.

She let go of his manhood, but continued to rub his upper thighs and waist with her open palms. “Yeah, sugar?” She smiled.

Here went everything. Spike’s lungs almost refused to operate as he choked out, “I… I just wanted to tell you that I… really, really, really like you.”

Instead of answering him, the blonde haired woman took his entire length into her mouth, which in all truth, wasn’t very hard. The boy shuddered and moaned in ecstasy, not able to resist gyrating his hips in time with the bobbing of her head. Her tongue dragged over his sensitive underside. The gentle caress of her lips made him shiver with excitement. Just as the previously unknown pleasure was building up in his loins, Applejack released him from her maw.

Spike tried to catch his breath as the woman made her way back up to his side and kissed him on the cheek, pulling him into a gentle yet dominant embrace. “How was that?” she asked, kissing him again.

“Uuuuuugh~” he groaned like a zombie, his eyes too far into the back of his head to formulate a coherent sentence.

Applejack laughed at the speechless youth. Reaching down, she began stroking his length once more. He quivered. Making eye contact, she asked in a playful tone, “Ya wanna go all the way?”

With his eyes closed tightly, Spike clenched his teeth and shook his head. “No.” He felt the hat being taken from his head and tossed aside. He could almost hear her deflate. She sat up, knees almost to her chest, and eased her weight into the short wall of pillows behind her. Spike remained stock still, the guilt of the situation catching up with him. “Sorry,” he sighed.

The wait for her to say something… anything in response was agonising. “Ah’m the one who should be sorry, Spike,” she suddenly cooed, gripping his shoulder. “Ah did pile all this on ya pretty suddenly.” She laughed a little. “Lookin’ back on it now, Ah was expectin’ too much of ya when Ah brought ya up here. Ah understand. This is movin’ too fast. We don’t have ta keep goin’.”

“It’s not that.” The stark naked teen mirrored the equally bare woman’s posture. His eyes stared blindly, directly ahead.

Applejack scooted closer and regarded the youth. “What is it then?”

Spike’s gaze dropped lower, his disappointment in himself rising. “I’m… not good enough. Look at me!” He gestured to his meek frame. “I’m puny, nerdy, insecure, weak and… and small.” He turned away as he listed his personal faults.

“And Ah wouldn’t change any o’ those for the world. Ah love ya just the way you are.”

Her response took him completely off guard. His demeanour brightened. “Re… Really?” he asked hopefully. An unexpected draft of icy air made him shiver violently, the breeze almost painful on his bare skin. Applejack must have noticed.

She pulled down the covers on the bed and gestured for him to get in. “Ah suppose it’s gettin’ a li’l chilly. Why don’t ya get cosy while Ah take care’a that window?”

Slipping under the blankets, Spike could not shake the foreign feeling of being naked in bed. He sure never slept without clothes with his surrogate sister sleeping in the same room. Speaking of… “What about Twilight?”

The window squealed as it was pulled shut. His eyes fixated on her perfect figure. Her lean, muscular build from her daily farm work practically glowed in the soft moonlight streaming through the portal. She turned to him. “Ah… told Twilight ya might be stayin’ the night. Like Ah said, Ah was gettin’ a mite overexcited.” Sitting on the edge of the bed, she looked down at her lap. “Ah’m sorry.”

“Applejack?”

She turned towards him, her face partially obscured in the fading light from the single lamp in the room. Spike shifted himself as close as he could.

“Did you really mean what you said before?” he asked cautiously.

She took the hint. “O’ course,” she chimed, stroking the side of his face.

“I… really like you too.” Applejack accepted that, knowing she would not likely get the heartfelt “I love you” from the proud teen. “So, does this mean… We’re..?” He struggled to find the right words. They could never really be-

“A couple?” She finished for him. His face flushed red and almost appeared to vibrate as he nodded. “Ah don’t know,” she said puckishly, “Would ya like ta be?”

“Uh... yea.” He reached out to her with a hesitant hand. Searching her face for some sort of approval, he hovered his hand over her thigh. Without pause, she placed her hand over his and guided the appendage to its target. The feeling of her flesh gave him goosebumps. How could just touching her feel so good? “Could we... kiss again?” he asked after some delay.

Spike moved over to accommodate the new body as she slipped into bed next to him, lying on her side. She brought her face close to his and spoke softly, “Ya don’t even have ta ask,” before bringing her mouth to his own. She brought a hand to the side of his neck, closing her eyes in order to better focus on the sensation of the kiss. Her neck swiveled, allowing her tongue better access.

Their naked bodies connected almost by reflex. Working an arm under him, Applejack placed the palm of her hand in the centre of his back. Dragging down from his head, her other arm reached diagonally around his lower back, just above his buttocks. With the larger woman’s arms wrapped possessively around him, Spike’s own searched for a purchase amid the constricting passion. They eventually found their place, somewhat unoriginally, grasping at her sides.

Begrudgingly, their faces separated, their need for oxygen outweighing their desire for further intimacy. Opening his eyes for the first time since the kiss was broken, Spike gazed into Applejack’s own bright green orbs.

Applejack relaxed her vice-like grip, but still held the boy close, arms around his chest and under his arms. Spike rubbed her back in the same manner that she had always used to relax him. His hand moved in slow circles across her shoulder blade. Her muscles seemed to loosen quickly and it wasn’t long before he could move a little more freely.

Not giving himself the time to lose the motivation, Spike slid up her body and kissed her again, which the older woman escalated quickly. She rolled onto her back, pulling the boy’s upper body on top of her. His hand unintentionally fell to the side of her breast in the sudden motion, his thumb over the nipple. He threw it away from her chest out of fear of taking it too far. It shocked him when Applejack forced his hand back to her erogenous zone, manipulating it to squeeze softly. He could have best described the feeling as having his hand trapped between a rock and a firm marshmallow.

The stiffness returned to the adolescent, accompanied by a new felling, an insatiable hunger to fulfill both his and Applejack’s desire for each other. He wanted her to have his body.

He broke the kiss wetly.His eyes searched the room for something he knew wouldn’t be there. “Do you still wanna go... all the way?”

Her face became serious. “Are ya sure?”

“I think so.”

“No, Spike.” Applejack brought their faces level. “Ya need ta be sure of this. Ah don’t want ya ta ever regret it.”

He looked to her eyes and felt them searching his psyche for any signs of untruths. “I’m... sure, Applejack. I promise to never regret it.” Her face remained blank for a while longer, before cracking into a slight smile.

She spread her legs invitingly beneath the covers.

Spike tensed. He lifted himself up, positioning himself correctly for what they were about to engage in. His manhood brushed against her thigh and he shuddered, the contact of intimate flesh making apparent just how far they were about to go. His stare remained on her face even while placing a hand on either side of her hips. She pulled up the blankets with a free hand so that they obstructed their almost connecting groins. He could feel the heat radiating from her nethers like a roaring fireplace.

“Ready?” She smiled. Spike couldn’t recall a time when Applejack had let herself become so... vulnerable. She was both literally and figuratively, wide open, opening her heart as she opened her love. What got him was that she was ready and more than willing to expose everything she had, just for him. He was worth that much to her? Did she... really love him?

He pushed forward with new found determination from the incredible amount of trust Applejack had placed in him.

She moaned.

Spike gasped from the new sensation flowing through him. Her love clenched around his manhood in a hot embrace. His breath quickened and he bent down over her, his head only reaching her sizable breasts. Her legs wrapped around his comparatively tiny waist, trying to pull him further inside her. Gently, he began moving himself in and out. It was pleasurable beyond what he had ever imagined, their physical contact. He leaned further forward, repositioning his arms to either side of her upper navel. Applejack attempted to meet him, sitting up.

Spike couldn’t reach her, simply too short. The woman rolled her hips upward, allowing their faces just a little closer. His jaw hung slightly ajar, panting into the thrusts. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head and concentrated, dropping down. His body writhed on hers. He could hear her breathing more shallowly, her hot breath tickling the hair on his scalp.

He became hypersensitive, like a lucid dream. Even through the rapture of sex, he could feel every contour of her body, every twitch of a muscle, every stroke of her hand down his side, every squeeze of her hips. Every small feeling became its own experience. It was beyond incredible, a level of closeness he had never known before.

She was so soft on the inside... The pleasure built up quickly.

The pressure in his loins was almost unbearable. He groaned loudly. Spike looked up, brought out of reverie by the thumb and forefinger grasping his chin. Applejack had lowered her head back into the pillow behind her. She looked at him, grunting. Meeting his gaze, she smiled between her looks of determination.

His mechanical humping lost rhythm as the pleasure overwhelmed him. Applejack pulled his head between her breasts as he released himself into her. He hugged her tightly as his hips continued to spasm. Every muscle in his lover’s body tensed solidly, clenching her teeth as she grunted in time with his rapidly whithering thrusts.

All too soon, it was over. They were both breathing heavily, drained from the physical activity. Spike hadn’t noticed how much both of them had been perspiring throughout the trial. They were practically dripping with sweat... as well as other bodily fluids. He tried to catch his breath amidst the afterglow. Applejack shifted her legs, guiding his manhood out of her.

“I... I’m sorry I...” Spike sighed.

Before he could complete his sentence, the older woman pulled him further up her chest and his lower body off of her, rolling his limp figure over so that he could use her bosom as a pillow. Grabbing his head forcefully, she kissed his temple. “Thank ya, Spike. For everythin’.”

She could see the youth drifting out of consciousness as he managed, “Love you... Applejack.”

No...

Big Mac’s sap green eye twitched reflexively. Backing up, he looked again into his little sister’s room. There it was again. He scratched his head. It wasn’t that she was naked; that wasn’t unusual. It wasn’t that she had slept in, though that was very uncharacteristic. It wasn’t even how sticky she looked. What got him was the fact that she was spooning the equally bare local librarian’s assistant.

He rubbed his eyes, but the image didn’t change.

Right.

He backed out of the room, trying not to wake them. He shook his head, muttering, “Too much cough syrup. Yup, that’s gotta be it.”