Love and Lust in the Field of Apples
Love and Lust in the Field of Apples
Beads of sweat dripped across the blonde cowpony’s glistening brow. That was just how the alabaster unicorn liked it. She also liked how the muscles in the rough-and-tumble mare’s legs would flex with such power. Oh, how the marshmallow mare wondered ever-so how simply ecstatic it would feel for that simple stallion-like farmer to caress her snow-white coat with those strong, muscled hooves.
She had to have her. There was no negotiating that. The seamstress would have her carnal hungers fed lest she continue to want with desperation. By the gods, how she was salivating like a lust-ridden wolf in heat.
Heat: what a marvelously perfect word. No other description was necessary.
The lady lurched forward, with ever the slightest quiver in her step. Her cowpony continued to stretch across her cart of apples, practically teasing her chaser with her toned, muscular form.
How could she get away with this? The fashionista knew action had to be taken. This simple piece of mare-meat would scream her name by day’s end. There was no other way.
She got the cowpony’s attention. The farmer looked up with her glistening, green eyes. They were driven to literal tears.
The cowpony’s voice quivered. “Wha-why’re ya here, Rare?”
“Applejack. Our time has come. We shall make love. Right here and now.”
Tears. Tears from her emerald eyes fell the green, grassy ground of grass.
Green.
The grass was emerald.
It was jade.
And grassy.
The cowpony sniffled and squealed like a babe. “A-ah never thawt tha day would cum. Ur mah dream girl, Rarity. Ah need ya so badly that ah’m cryin’ teers a’ joy fer this moment.”
“I knew you would, Applejack. I knew my beauty would destroy your old-fashioned values. Join me in a carnal cavalcade, my voluptuous steed! Cast aside your foolish notions of a stallion and mare!”
“B-but... mah family. Thay’d niver lemme be a fillyfewler. Aw, Rarity, Ah caint—”
“Bah, I say!” The alabaster, magical-horned-pony waved her alabaster, white, eggshell, snow-white, completely-opposite-of-black, marshmallow hoof. “Damn them to hell! There is only our love that need worry! Now fuck me, you gorgeous mudpony, you!”
The cowpony nodded her orange, combination-of-red-and-yellow-with-a-blonde-mane-on-top head and cantered over to her new master. Ordinarily, the unicorn would never place her diamond-cutie-marked rear on the jade grass (it was the ground after all), but for the passionate act of love, she was willing to make exception.
She spread her thin, white, elegant hind legs and presented her marehood to the simple farmer. Liquid, scented lust coursed from her rose petals like a mighty river. Her body was the ocean, and love was mighty Poseidon casting his staff to the world: the world of the white unicorn’s sex.
“Lick now. You know you want to.”
The cowpony whimpered. A sultry siren if the seamstress ever heard one. She looked up with her pleading green eyes. It reminded the fashionista of a child. A filly. A filly who was starved for a succulent piece of candy.
Rest assured, my darling. Your candy shall come to you.
“Lick.”
She did. Oh, heaven on earth, she did. She lapped her tongue into the fashionista’s pink folds like a hungry dog. Those puppy-dog eyes never once closed, for the shock of such ecstasy brought her to full-alert. The seamstress knew that the cowpony couldn’t believe she was in this moment.
The fashionista couldn’t believe it, either. She closed her eyes, and pondered if this might have been a dream.
But it wasn’t a dream.
It was living.
It was breathing.
It was the now.
She was simply pulsating. The little tongue was wriggling around her nethers. It was tickling her.
She moaned. She moaned with a lewdness unbecoming of her. Her body continued jolting with each desperate lap courtesy of the cowpony. She gritted her white, hard teeth as she seethed. Coarseness was coating her voice. It was like she had transformed.
This cowpony was a damned alchemist.
A wizard.
A God.
And the fashionista was a God, for only. For only a clash of Zeus and his titans would have made as great of heavenly quakes. It could only be that Zues was looking down on this carnal proceeding, throwing his rods of thunder that struck both the orange farmer earth pony and the white, alabaster, unicorn, not-a-pegasus seamstress.
“Oh, Applejack. You whore. You positively dirty WHORE.”
“Ya taiste so gewd, Rarity. Ya tayste even bitter thayn aypples!”
“I am forbidden fruit indeed, you slut! Sing your praises like a hymn!”
“Ah shall! Ah shall!”
The lapping continued. The passion. The ecstasy. Only an act of God would stop them.
The white pony moaned. Moaned. MOANED.
She was moaning. And she was alabaster, which is the opposite of black. Also, she had a purple mane. It was violet.
“I am going to climax soon, you filthy slut. Don’t you dare stop.”
“Ah wouldnt draem ovit!” The orange mare continued licking. The alabaster fashionista’s forelegs continued to jolt.
They gave.
The white fashionista who was white fell back onto the green ground that was green. It was emerald.
“Oh, oh, Celestia, I’m going to.... I’M GOING TO... AHHHHHH!!!.
It flowed.
Oh, Celestia, how it flowed—hell, SHOT from the fashionista’s pink, pulsating sex.
The cowpony lapped it up. All of it. She couldn’t get enough of it.
Dear Luna, how did the seamstress wait so long? For this?
God only knows, but it was through his action that they were brought together. Their act of love was holy, as far as the alabaster seamstress was concerned. Why else would they feel the way the felt right now?
They breathed in unison. Like a choir of lust-ridden angels. All the passion was condensed into the heavy breathing of a simple cowpony and her new, loving master. The fashionista knew that one day, she would have to repay the favor for this servitude, but for now, the two simply basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun (which was golden-yellow, by the way)... and rested.
Fin.
Author's Note
This was my first story, and your comments would ever-so be appreciated. 
