Sweetie-Do-Well and the Curse of the Magical Costume!

One thing was getting more certain by the second - this was not the way home.

The road, the houses, the street lights flickering to life, all of them were familiar. Sweetie Belle was certain she should know where she was. If only she could ignore the damp costume clinging to her coat and skin, she’d probably be able to concentrate.

There was something on her face. A bead of sweat rolled down, past her eye and over her cheek. She stopped, and stood still. Her vision blurred, the world beyond becoming a mess of sunset orange and shimmering lights. Blinking away the tears, she tried to take another step. Her whole clammy costume shifted with her, sending sparks across the soaked, sweaty body trapped in it.

Just needed to concentrate.

Ignore the costume.

The sizzling bead of sweat reminded her of Scootaloo’s tongue on her chin, running up to meet her lips.

Easier said than done.

She knew she should be worried. The whole town in front of her was a collage of indistinct noises and dull colors. Something was horribly, awfully wrong with her. Her friends had just done things to her – and each other – that they had blushed to even mention to each other before. She didn’t know what she’d say to them tomorrow. She didn’t know what to think now. There something very, very wrong with today.

And as soon as this costume stops touching every single inch of her, she would be able to figure out what.

Right now, all she needed to do is get back home. The street was spinning beneath her, and the air felt thick, like water running over her as she moved. It was so hard to not just give into it, to let the wind brush her into an alley where she could lay down and just–

Home.

Concentrate.

Each time she closed her eyes, she was assaulted with images and memories of Applebloom and Scootaloo standing over her, kissing each other, kissing her – her whole body ached, particularly around her hindlegs – what it felt like to put her hoof there, in the spot it was aching, how amazing it felt…

Sweetie Belle’s journey home was guided by some consciousness other than hers, because the whole of her thoughts were lit with something else. She knew, somewhere inside her, that what was happening to her was wrong, but why was half of her begging to go back to the clubhouse and plant her lips on Applebloom’s, and convince Scootaloo to touch her all over…

Sweetie Belle noticed something that made her pause.

She blinked at the shadowy, familiar shape.

Wait.

Is that home?

She just needed to get home and everything would be fine. Was this home? Her brain didn’t seem to want to work. Home was just a word to her not connected to any particulars.

She sat down in the street and stared.

Think, Sweetie Belle, c’mon.

Home. You need to get home. Don’t think about Scootaloo’s tongue or her legs locked with yours, just think about home. You can’t spend the night at the clubhouse with them. Home. Home. Home.

She remembered something. Knocking on the door she was staring at, slamming it open and rushing inside. She had scoured the house until she found the unicorn inside slouched over some cloth and needle. The pony was busy, but she had begged her to please, please make her a costume because she had finally figured it out, she was meant to be a super hero and she needed a costume just like this one if you really love me you’ll make it.

Smiling, finally. Something made sense. Something other grinding her body against another pony’s had managed to make a spark in her brain.

Rarity’s.

This was Rarity’s house.

She was up and moving before she even realized it. She was breathing hard, her newly quickened pace making the tugs of her costume more frantic and agonizing than ever.

Stopping just before the wooden door, Sweetie took a moment to catch her breath. The pounding need between her legs ebbed slowly as she did her best to stifle her panting grunts. Sweetie knocked slowly, wincing slightly as the noise of her hoof against the door crashed through her head.

It was a minute or two before Sweetie heard the sound of hoofsteps stomping towards the door. Rarity’s voice was faint, her mutterings sounding like a song to Sweetie Belle.

“Hello, can I help-” Rarity’s sweet smile fell along with her gaze. Sweetie didn’t want to think of how she must have looked to her sister. “Sweetie Belle! What on earth-!”

The little unicorn simply pushed past Rarity. The air inside the boutique was somehow even hotter and stuffier than outside - fabric had been draped haphazardly across many of the mannequins, and errant scraps of paper littered the floor. Sweetie kept walking, towards the stairs. Towards the guest room. Towards some rest.

“Sweetie Belle, what’s-” Rarity shut the door quickly, rushing to catch up. “Are you all right?”

Sweetie wanted to say something. What could she say, though? That she’d kissed her friends and rubbed herself all over them because they felt really good? That feeling her friends on her tongue and body made her all wet and sticky and she didn’t understand why she just kept wanting more and more?

“We could get in trouble.” Scootaloo’s words echoed in her bleary head. Her face flushed.

“I gotta go to bed.” Sweetie Belle couldn’t think of anything else to say, and the sentence wheezed out of her dry mouth. She tried to march forward, but the sore ache and dull pleasure that coursed through her body with each heartbeat made her gait a clumsy stagger.

Rarity kept pace with her. “Sweetie Belle, hold still. Sweetie, you’re absolutely–stop, Sweetie Belle!” The unicorn’s horn shimmered in a light blue aura, and a soft pressure enveloped Sweetie Belle, easily ending her stumbling trot towards the stairs.

A quiet groan escaped Sweetie Belle’s lips. The magic covering her, pushing her softly in every direction – it felt entirely too much like the hooves of a dozen stallions caressing every inch of her body. A part of her was still telling her to get to bed, but despite that she smiled and closed her eyes. Her limbs went limp as she felt herself being lifted into the air on an invisible cloud of sensation.

Rarity slowly spun the listless filly in a circle, examining her as if she was some strange object. “Sweetie Belle, you’re absolutely filthy. Is that...is that my costume?” Even in the state Sweetie Belle was in, she could hear the anger in her sister’s voice. Like so many time so far this day, the bliss and thrill she felt over all these new sensations was answered by a deep swelling of shame inside her.

“I’m...s-s…” The apologize was interrupted with a gasp as Rarity set her back on the floor.

“It’s a mess! What were you doing today, missy? Look at you, covered in twigs and dirt and...Cutie Mark Crusader garbage collectors, hm?” Sweetie Belle felt like she should cry, felt the urge to – but she was so empty. She spilled so much of herself all over her costume as hour after hour had passed in the clubhouse…

“Though, it smells like…” Rarity wrinkled her nose at a smell that was familiar but unplaceable. “...does mother know you’re here? I suppose not. You know what kind of trouble you’d be in if you had shown up with your new costume in such a state. So you figured you’d just wander over to your big sister’s and she’d clean you up?”

Sweetie Belle rocked back and forth on the ground. Too exhausted to think, too exhausted to stand. Her body ached for a soft bed to lay in, but nothing she did gave her the strength to stand.

“Are you listening to me, Sweetie?” Rarity stomped a hoof on the ground.

The only noise Sweetie could focus on was her own rhythmic breathing. Gently, in and out.

“Sweetie?” Rarity leaned in closer. Her hot breath, smelling of peppermint, washed over Sweetie Belle’s face when her older sister spoke her name. Sweetie’s efforts to stifle the gentle coo in response were fruitless.

Rarity sighed. “Stay here, Sweetie Belle, and take that suit off. You’re obviously exhausted. I’ll run you a bath, and you can stay here for the night.”

Sweetie Belle’s eyes slowly opened when the warm air of her sister’s speech stopped flowing over her smile. Halfway across the room, Rarity had stopped her trot. She turned back to Sweetie.

“And if you think you’re getting off the hook, it won’t be that easy. Tomorrow you can tell me all about how you ruined your new suit.”

Rarity’s hoofsteps faded, echoing through the hallway. Sweetie Belle could barely muster the energy to lift her chin off of the floor - tensing her legs and pushing herself up onto her hooves felt nothing short of impossible. The sound of hot water rushing into a tub sounded so distant. Sweetie’s little legs tensed and relaxed repeatedly, the muted determination in the back of her mind still refusing to leave her entirely.

Before she knew it, the faraway faucet had stopped hissing, and Rarity’s silhouette was trotting back towards her.

“Bath’s ready, Sweetie Belle-” Rarity called, sighing as she approached her sprawled out sister once more. “I swear, for such a tenacious little filly you can be so lazy sometimes…”

Sweetie’s half-lidded eyes stared straight ahead at the perfectly manicured hooves standing in front of her. She opened her mouth, attempting some form of protest, but her words were lost as the costume around her neck tightened, pulling her upwards. Her hooves shook as she attempted to remain sitting up.

“Sweetie, darling, come now. We need to get that costume off.” Rarity leaned forward, grabbing the little zipper under Sweetie’s neck in her teeth. Rarity wasn’t prepared for just how strong she smelled. Pulling the zipper a few notches down, the musky scent trapped underneath wafted freely into Rarity’s nose. This wasn’t how little fillies smelled after a long day of roughhousing. This was how young mares smelled. Young, excited, in-season mares. Rarity’s heart caught in her throat. What had Sweetie Belle been up to? That mess around her tail and her legs couldn’t be…oh dear.

In a rush to get back to the task at hand, Rarity’s muzzle bumped into Sweetie’s costumed chest. Sweetie’s head jerked back, the sudden warmth against her crackling through her like lightning. Rarity tensed, attempting to grab ahold of the zipper once more, but-

But all Rarity could manage to do was shift her muzzle against the warm, sweaty fabric. The zipper was right next to her teeth, but something was distracting her. Something about the heat pulsing from her little sister, how her chest softly rose and fell against her face…

“Sweetie Belle, this...you really need to take better care of yourself.” Rarity looked up at her sister’s face, her chin still resting against Sweetie. The little unicorn looked down at her sister, trying to move her lips, trying to tell her to stop. Sweetie Belle was already making those noises with each gentle breath she felt billowing from Rarity’s nostrils. Every inch of her body was already clamoring for more, wanting to feel the bigger unicorn against her neck and stomach and especially that place below.

But a little, valiant voice within held Sweetie back with everything she had. This was her sister. What she’d done with Scootaloo and Apple Bloom was one thing but - not her sister. Not Rarity.

“Your costume, we need to...yes, right, the bath, we need to get you out of this…” Rarity’s words began to sound drowsy. Rarity pulled her head down, attempting to grab the zipper again, only to find her nose pressed against the small patch of Sweetie Belle’s exposed, musky chest.

I can’t, Sweetie Belle thought to herself, the sensation of Rarity taking deep breaths in through her nose rushing through her small, fuzzy chest. She’s my sister. I can’t. She’s my sister.

“Sometimes I...I have to wonder what it is you girls get up to.” Sweetie Belle felt the vibrations of Rarity’s voice against her beating heart. She wasn’t sure what to do any more. She knew this was wrong and weird, but Rarity couldn’t seem to take her soft nose away from her chest, and it felt so nice just nuzzling back and forth…

“I mean, you have this costume for little more than a day, and it’s filthy. It’s...oh.” Rarity’s hoof was brushing against her stomach now. Sweetie Belle cooed under Rarity’s attention. Everything was spiraling towards something she knew she shouldn’t want, couldn’t want. Her room was a minute away and if she could just pull herself away from Rarity’s hoof.

Rarity was still moving her hoof in gentle, swirling motions over Sweetie Belle’s chest, still mumbling tepid chastisements and half-thoughts.

“M-my, though...it feels so nice.” Rarity murmured, leaning down again and nuzzling against Sweetie Belle’s chest. The older unicorn sighed, the hot air running all over Sweetie Belle making her squirm. How would Rarity’s hot breath feel down– no, no, no. This is wrong. Sister. Bedroom. Sweetie Belle tried everything to compel her limbs to move, but they only twitched.

“You know, I have...half a mind…to punish you right here, Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, interrupting her nuzzling as she gave Sweetie Belle a quick kiss on the chest. The suit sent tingles across her lips and she shuddered. There was something here that wasn’t quite right, Rarity thought. And then she realized – the thing that was wrong here was that Sweetie Belle was a naughty little sister who ruined her suit in one day.

“Such a dirty...filthy filly...wrecking such a wonderful, delightful suit…” The words washed over Sweetie Belle without understanding. The filly realized with a mute horror that while she was concentrating on rising from the floor her body was grinding against her sister’s touch. She felt herself getting warm and wet in the place where nopony was supposed to touch. Angry tears formed in her eyes as her mouth opened and was only able to moan. No, no, no, no why does this feel so good it’s my sister this isn’t supposed to feel this good. She collapsed onto her back, unable to find the strength to keep standing. She wished she had never worn the costume. She wished she hadn’t touched herself for so long. She wished Scootaloo and Apple Bloom were still here. She wished Rarity would be a little rougher with her hooves. She wished Rarity would kiss her all over.

Rarity, if she even noticed her sister falling over, wasn’t distracted by it. Simply taking a step forward so she could keep her hooves in contact with that wonderful suit, she smiled down at her sister. “Still, it is quite the m-marvelous suit, don’t you agree, Sweetie?” Both hooves on her now, one running across her chest the other up and down her flank. “What material did I use on this, I wonder? It seems to be...escaping me, at the moment.” Her nose against Sweetie Belle’s heaving chest, taking a deep breath of that musky, rich aroma.

The muscles in Sweetie Belle only seemed to come alive when they were moving, desperately thrusting towards Rarity’s delicate touch. This wasn’t like Sweetie Belle’s or Scootaloo’s fumbling, awkward grasping. Her sister knew every place to touch to make her whole body quiver, every caress that turned her limbs to jello and the words and protests in her mind turn into mush and moaning. She still need to get upstairs, yes, up to the safety of her room, she remembered that much. Up to her room and everything would be okay. But was there any reason she couldn’t bring Rarity up with her? She’d be safe in her room with her sister and those amazing hooves all over her body and…

“Rarity…” she squeaked, managing to hold back an inarticulate grunt for long enough to enunciate her sister’s name.

“Hmm?” Rarity didn’t seem concerned by it, and still stared down at Sweetie’s filthy suit and the wet spot between her legs. Instead of the admonishing glare she had earlier, she was smiling softly, and her eyes were clouded in the same strange, distracted haze she noticed on Scootaloo as they had…done what they did back in the clubhouse.

Sweetie Belle tried again. It would have been so nice to just sit there and let her sister touch her for the rest of the night but she had to at least try. She bottled up all the willpower she had, steeled herself, and let her sister’s name out of her dry mouth once again.

“Rarity!”

Rarity blinked, and rose from her sister. “Yes, Sweetie Belle? Is everything alright?” She looked down at her younger sister. The filly looked distraught in ways that Rarity hadn’t noticed before. Her eyes were rolled back and unfocused, and her tongue hung out of her mouth as she panted. It was like she was overcome with exhaustion, save for the moaning and mewing that she emitted with every other breath…

“Sweetie?” Rarity said. Panic began to set in. The fog in her mind was lifting slowly and she walked forward. Towering over her prone sister, she stared down at her. It looked like Sweetie had been crying, and her face was wet and covered in matted patches of fur.

“Sweetie Belle? Are you alright?”

Sweetie Belle didn’t respond.

“Oh my goodness.” Rarity said, bringing a hoof to her mouth. She thought it over for a brief second. “No,” she told herself. “Twilight wouldn’t be so...it’s the suit isn’t it? The suit is making you act this way. Oh my...what happened to you today, Sweetie? And...just now...the magic must affect…”

Rarity leaned forward again closer to Sweetie Belle’s face. Whatever it was, it was bad. She needed to get Twilight so they could figure out how to fix it. She shifted slightly, and her backhoof accidentally brushing the hot, soaked folds of the suit between Sweetie Belle’s hindlegs.

Too much. Everything in Sweetie Belle that was crying for more became far too loud. Shame and fear became quiet compared to the call for more.

The filly cried out a panicked moan and lurched forward, locking her lips with her sister’s and shoving her tongue into her surprised mouth.

Rarity gasped. Tendrils of pleasure shot through her and she tried to pull away. Everything was wrong but so dizzy. The world was spinning and the only thing that made sense anymore was Sweetie Belle’s lips on hers. This is your little sister!

Shivering gasps spilled from Sweetie’s mouth as Rarity’s lips left hers. The way her sister felt against her, the strong, heady scent that rushed from her little body into Rarity’s nose - Rarity hadn’t felt this thrilled in a long time. Even considering her many memorable rendezvous with suave stallions and blushing mares alike, she wasn’t sure if she’d ever felt so hot. The little wet hairs on Sweetie Belle’s neck tickled her lips and were slightly salty against her tongue. Rarity grinned.

“I never would have guessed...” Rarity mumbled into Sweetie Belle’s chest, her eyes shut and words blending together as her tip of her tongue poked against the sweaty fabric. The little filly’s hindleg kicked softly in the air, her thighs rubbing in circles against her sister’s shoulders. “You, and Scootaloo, and little Apple Bloom I mean you girls don’t even have your cutie marks for goodness’ sakes…”

Rarity was getting closer. Though Sweetie Belle was adrift in the hazy, sweet-scented embrace of her sister, her muzzle was moving away. Down past her chest, kissing her wet stomach, so close to that part that longed for touch most of all. Her little legs twitched and twitched again. All she needed was for Rarity to move little lower. To push those warm lips right between her legs where Scootaloo had touched her, where she had touched herself.

“Please.” Sweetie Belle barely whispered. The syllables were broken and stifled, but it was all that she could force out between her soft, delighted moans. Rarity didn’t stop. Rarity seemed too lost in nuzzling the damp costume to notice. Her little nipples were stiff again, and when Rarity’s lips reached them, Sweetie Belle’s gasps became a long, low whine.

“In any case, I hope you’ve learned your lesson-” Rarity pursed her lips around one of Sweetie’s stiff little nubs. Hot droplets of saliva dripped and crawled across as Rarity’s lips kissed and nipped. Sweetie’s whines grew wild, her legs quivering and thighs pressing even tighter against her mumbling sister. “A lady doesn’t overdress when she’s in season.”

Sweetie groaned. She knew Rarity was talking to her, but her big sister’s words were barely more than incomprehensible sounds being drowned out by the tug of tight fabric, the wet warmth of her sister’s tongue.

“What you and your friends were doing is -mmn- perfectly natural. Nothing to be ashamed of.” Rarity inhaled deeply against Sweetie’s damp groin. “But now this costume smells like a sweaty-”

Lick.

“...naughty-”

Lick.

“...filly.”

Sweetie cried out, the corners of her gaping mouth turned up as she gasped and panted. Rarity’s tongue pressed right up against that needy spot of hers, each tiny shift dragging the fabric around the little filly’s sensitive sex. Sweetie felt that extra-sensitive part of her peek out and brush against Rarity’s lip, every time bringing such tremendous pleasure with the slightest bit of contact. She flexed it again and again, her little hips bucking upward into her sister’s muzzle. The costume was wet, and not just because of Rarity’s gentle tongue. Through the crashing of her sister’s breaths on her body, through the pulsing need inside her that made her flex and drip and make guttural sounds, Sweetie’s cheeks felt hot. She was no longer embarrassed that her sister was lapping and moaning into her - she was embarrassed because she loved it more than anything in the world.

Half-words and other incomprehensible mutterings were still spilling from Rarity’s mouth, muted by the fabric between her and her sister. Sound and sensation swirled in Sweetie Belle’s mind. She was unable to tell words apart from anything else – Rarity was still speaking, saying something under her breath and between gasps but Sweetie Belle couldn’t distinguish it from the greedy grunts and growls that seemed to shake her little body to the core. Every few mumbled words, Rarity punctuated her speech by dragging her tongue in a long slow circle around the spot in between Sweetie’s legs. Every time Rarity pulled back, Sweetie cried out and thrust forward, desperate to be touched. Rarity’s warm tongue was a necessity now - Sweetie couldn’t bear a second without her breathing hot and drooling against her.

But it was gone again. When bucking her hips yielded nothing, Sweetie mustered all of the strength she had and picked her bleary head up, looking to her sister. Rarity’s head was still nestled between her thighs, her wet muzzle smiling as she stared, open mouthed, right where her tongue had been. Muttering a few slurred words, Rarity’s horn shone, and Sweetie felt the warm, fuzzy embrace of her sister’s magic once again. It focused just above her legs, just below her belly, nestling against the wet costume just before-

Sweetie yelped. It was tight. Tighter than it had ever been. She felt that spot between her legs flex again, rubbing hard against her soaked costume. Sweetie’s whole body was shaking, the sensations she had felt with her friends seeming like mere sparks compared to the inferno that Rarity had set within her. Sweetie barely had time to catch her breath before Rarity’s magic lifted her little behind into the air.

“You look so lovely this way, Sweetie Belle.” Rarity muttered. Sweetie could do nothing but look up at her costumed body, the fabric pulled tight against her by her sister’s magic. Just between her legs, below Rarity’s grinning face, the fabric that had stretched so tightly against the contours of her body seemed to dip ever so briefly within. Sweetie shifted her hips, grinding the fabric back and forth inside her. Long, shaky vowels drifted from her throat.

But then the fabric started getting even tighter. Rarity stretched it flat between Sweetie’s legs again, pulling it further and further apart. Her head bobbed, cheeks nuzzling haphazardly against Sweetie’s thighs as her horn shone bright.

And then, with the sound of a thousand tiny snaps at once, that heavenly spot between Sweetie Belle’s legs suddenly felt a slight draft. The little unicorn could see a patch of her white fur poking out from below her belly. Just above it, her sister appeared to be blushing furiously.

“R-Rarity…?” Sweetie Belle meant to ask about the costume. Something about the hole in it. Whatever it was, the question never came.

Sweetie Belle thought she had known how delightful her sister’s tongue felt. She thought she knew how unbelievable it felt to have wet, warm huffing nostrils and lapping tongue caress her within the confines of her sweaty costume. She thought she knew what it meant to have something, anything touch that little flexing spot beneath her tail. She had been so, so wrong.

Each bump on Rarity’s tongue teased and tickled. Each droplet of saliva left behind crawled down slowly, dripping into her fur. It hadn’t felt hot before. This was heat, blazing from her sister’s wet mouth and spreading into Sweetie’s helpless body. She had been shouting. She was still shouting. She didn’t know what came out of her mouth, save the fact that it was loud, twinged with ecstasy and spit.

Warm, wet and delicately slow, Rarity’s tongue pushed forward. Sweetie’s legs twitched helplessly, splayed out above her. Dipping in, lapping out and brushing that spot, the spot that sent sparks and moans throughout her - every lick and throaty vibration felt deliberate, gently adding to that sweet, addictive need that throbbed harder and harder within her.

Rarity’s tongue was something she’d never realized she needed so much. Every time she brushed it hard in between Sweetie Belle’s legs, Sweetie Belle couldn’t resist screaming. Anything that wasn’t a cry for more and more of her sister’s heavy, wet tongue entering her was pushed beyond her understanding. She thought she had experienced the most amazing sensation of her life a few hours ago in the clubhouse, but that was nothing next to the heat of Rarity's mumbled breath and feeling of her burning tongue in that special spot that nopony was suppose to touch because it felt too amazing for anypony to handle. Every sensation she felt before was dulled and muted through the fabric, but Rarity's mouth directly on her was so hot that it burned everything else in her life away, she didn't, couldn't want anything else, it was too amazing. Her legs twitched uncontrollably, and her hips bucked against Rarity's snout, starving more for that touch each passing second.

Her friend's clumsy and fumbling hooves rubbing against her costume was a dull and distant sensation now – if she had known that something could make her body feel this, she would have torn her costume off and begged Scootaloo and Apple Bloom to touch her, lick her, anything, as long as it was down there and they didn't ever stop. Rarity's tongue was controlled and paced, a sensation that went so far beyond clumsy groping that it had taken control of her body. Her sister easily fell into the rhythm of her thrusts, timing herself so that her tongue took a long, wet, impossibly slow lick that made the world freeze for a second right as she was at the apex. It was the most natural rhythm she'd ever followed in her life, and despite the sweet ache of exhaustion she'd felt flowing through her body since she left the clubhouse, it was something she could have done for the rest of the night. She noticed, when she stopped screaming and tried in vain to catch her breath, that Rarity wasn't speaking anymore – the only sounds Sweetie Belle heard beyond her own gasping was faint murmurs and moans, her sister's sounds muffled by her muzzle's constant attachment to her body. Sweetie Belle couldn't be happier. Words didn't even make sense to her anymore anyway. Everything was much better with Rarity's scorching tongue doing nothing but lapping away at her without losing pace.

Everything changed in a moment, and suddenly Sweetie Belle's thrusts weren't reciprocated by the hefty, sopping pressure she expected. She tried again, and again, in vain, thrusting, seeking out the sensation that made her world clouded in delight, but there was nothing except faint slivers of a steaming breath on her. A wordless moan rose from deep in her throat, but turned into gentle panting when she felt Rarity’s hooves snake around her backside.

Her touch lingered on Sweetie’s rump, giving it a few squeezes and caressing it softly, but her hooves quickly moved upwards on Sweetie’s body and passed her hips. Rarity’s gentle touch was sending shocks through her, but there was still nothing she wanted more than more of Rarity’s mouth - her lower body was still straining for it, still trying to communicate the need for that amazing tongue that Sweetie Belle couldn’t possibly give words. Her sisters distant moaning as her hooves made slow circles, rubbing her unthinkingly through the fabric, making it stretch over her sweat-matted fur. When Rarity slid closer to her, Sweetie thought that Rarity was ready to dive back into her, and she felt the spot between her legs flex and expose that amazingly sensitive part of her again, almost in anticipation. But when Rarity moved back, and forward again, Sweetie finally realized through her fogged understanding that Rarity was grinding her rump back and forth on her carpet. Her sister’s eyes were closed, and she was biting down on her lip. Sweetie stared at her, pleading desperate cries for attention forming and falling amid the ocean of indecipherable grunts.

Finally, Rarity opened her eyes. The filly below her was still squirming, eyes locked on hers, a desperate, pitiful need behind them. Rarity smiled. She knew exactly what a naughty filly like Sweetie Belle needed right now.

The grip Rarity had on her sister, which up unto now was light and flowing over her like honey, tightened around her hips so hard Sweetie Belle yelped. The sudden sensation felt like a vice and sent a wave of pleasure quivering over her body. Sweetie Belle groaned and squirmed, trying to somehow get those hooves back where they belonged, back where she needed, on the place that was still flexing and aching for a touch. No matter how much she tried, though, Rarity’s grip held her firmly in place.

Her sister took a deep breath, let it out, and shoved her snout back between Sweetie Belle’s legs.

There was nothing graceful about it this time, nothing ladylike or orderly like Rarity’s prior attentions. Sweetie Belle screamed sounds she didn’t even know she could make, bestial moaning that no proper lady should ever even think about. Rarity’s tongue was on her, lapping away, shoving deep inside her in places she didn’t even know could be touched. She locked her lips on her sister’s bodies, the sounds she was making as animalistic as her sister’s. Sweetie was paralyzed, everything was too hot, it was too much. Her sister didn’t stop for even a second, even breathing and snorting while deep inside her, that hot breath blowing over Sweetie Belle. All sense of civility was gone – Rarity was now greedy, eager to taste as much of Sweetie Belle as she could. Sweetie Belle’s lower body was soaked, covered in sweat and something else, the special spot between her legs dripping with a coat of Rarity’s saliva, as her sister made no attempt to hide how amazing her sister tasted.

Sweetie felt it again – that same, incredible, world-ending feeling that she felt when her hooves ran over her own body and the same one she felt a dozen times with her friends as they kissed her and rubbed against her. It welled up inside her, consuming every part of her, making every muscle stretched and taut. It was like she was exploding from the inside in the best way possible, all of the sensations of her body dissolving in one whole. She couldn’t tell the warmth of her body from the warmth of Rarity’s tongue anymore, and her sweat mingled with Rarity’s spit. The Boutique was melting away, too, she couldn’t even remember where she was. All of Equestria, gone, meaning nothing compared to this feeling. The only thing that mattered in the world. All of existence was building towards a final, singular sensation, and if Rarity kept going she was—

Sweetie Belle grunted, and her whole body shook. She squirted that something from down there, all over Rarity’s mouth, which continued sloppily devouring her. Grunting, screaming, she did it again, and Rarity, after a few more seconds, finally pulled away, her mouth curved into a wide grin as it dripped with the hot nectar her sister has spurted all over her.

Sweetie felt a profound, rich emptiness overtake her. She would have cried if she was able. Her whole body felt like it was coming apart, out of her control, and she fell limp in her sister’s grip. She became vaguely aware of the shaky breaths staggering in and out of her lungs as little sticky droplets crawled their way down her backside. Joining with the damp, tight costume.

Her soaked behind gently touched the ground, strands of wet hair from her tail sticking to her flanks. Sweetie took another lungful of the hot air. She wanted to look up at her sister, her amazing wonderful lovely sister, but she barely had enough strength to try and catch her breath. The little filly’s gaze rested at some faraway dark point on the ceiling. She’d been smiling, her mouth open and her tongue resting just between her teeth.

A shifting of hooves, and Sweetie Belle felt warmth on her body again. Rarity’s face was inches from hers now, looking her right in the eyes. Her muzzle was so wet - little white hairs bunched together, glistening with cooling, dripping liquid. It took only a touch of their lips for Sweetie to push against her sister, sucking and licking at that strong, musky flavor in Rarity’s lips. Her sister, in turn, began grinding her body against the little filly.

“My little sister…” Rarity breathed when her lips briefly parted from Sweetie’s, her words spilling though her sister’s brain. “My cute, sweet, beautiful…”

Rarity’s lips left hers. Sweetie’s head instantly lurched forward, begging for more, but Rarity simply grinned. Rarity slid herself back over Sweetie’s body, the heat and weight sliding over her costume pushing another grunt from the little filly’s lips. A few agonizing moments of nothing passed, save for the ever so light breaths Sweetie felt on the wetness between her legs. She bucked her hips, up and down. She needed her sister back. She needed her sister now.

And then, all at once -

There was no sound, save Sweetie’s surprised, muffled squeal. Heat. Fuzzy, wet heat, pressed against her little snout. A mix of perfume and sweat and something stronger flooded Sweetie’s nostrils. It was all so dizzying, so overwhelming, so soft and hot that she couldn’t help nuzzle against it. She wasn’t even sure of what it was until she felt Rarity’s tail briefly drape over her horn and mane before swishing away.

Sweetie’s face felt very hot.

She’d seen it before, of course. Any observant pony of her age would have seen those parts under ponies’ tails, at one time or another. It wasn’t something you were supposed to talk about, but sometimes tails would swish about in excitement, or inspiration after hours of running from mannequin to sketchbook and back, and there it was. She’d seen her friends’, her teacher’s - it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. But so close to her face, so warm, so wet -

Sweetie opened her mouth. Her sister’s strong scent blended into taste, rushing over her tongue. Something distant in Sweetie’s mind protested the idea of her putting her tongue under her sister’s tail. There was barely any hesitation before her little tongue pressed against her sister’s puffy lips.

Rarity let out a hungry groan from atop Sweetie, rumbling and pushing the little filly to do it again. It felt so wonderful running across her tongue, she couldn’t bear to stop even if she’d wanted to. Sweetie’s tongue dragged across the bottom of her sister’s warm, wet lips when something pushed out and touched her. It was about the size of a little marble, pink and stiff against Sweetie’s tongue. When it touched her, Rarity cried out and shoved her hips against her little sister’s face even more. As the little pink thing slipped away, dim recognition crossed Sweetie’s face, her tongue lapping and muzzle pushing hard against the hot, dripping, flexing thing before her. Rarity was breathing so hard against Sweetie’s stomach, and Sweetie didn’t want it to stop.

Rarity’s eyes, save for when they’d close tightly as she shoved herself against her little sister, could not leave that torn spot between Sweetie Belle’s legs. The little filly was still dripping onto her sprawled out tail, thighs and legs soaked and quivering. Rarity wasn’t sure how long she’d been talking. She’d catch her mouth forming words like “love”, “cute”, “beautiful” - accolades she’d rarely used to describe her filthy, sweaty, roughhousing little sister. All it took was her clumsy little tongue, her clumsy little lips and clumsy little nose - and the praises couldn’t stop spilling from Rarity’s lips at varying tones, volumes, and more likely than not in between high pitched moans.

Lowering her head and bucking her hips, Rarity knew that she couldn’t hold out. Her little sister in her torn up costume was tonguing, kissing, lapping sloppily like a foal at a junior high prom - and was going to get her off harder than any stallion ever had. It built within her like nothing she’d ever felt before, rolling and pulsing harder with each heartbeat, each saliva-drenched lick, commanding her attention and her breath and her building moans as it grew like a hurricane inside her.

She heard Sweetie’s confused, delighted squeals. She heard her own panting and gasping. None of it mattered. Nothing mattered but feeling herself spurting all over her little sister, rubbing and bucking her hot, sticky mess so thoroughly into her face. Sweetie Belle was still licking, still nuzzling, still nestling her wet little face against Rarity’s warm nethers. Still twitching, still dripping, Rarity laid gently over Sweetie, hearing her gasp for air from behind. She wasn’t sure if she was still mindlessly muttering as she teased just under Sweetie’s tail with her hoof. Her wet little sex was just too cute.

When Sweetie Belle woke up, she didn’t know what time it was. She knew Rarity was sleeping next to her, and she knew they were on the floor. That was about it.

Her entire being ached. Underneath her tingling coat, she felt dry and exhausted – hollow, as if every last piece of her essence had been forced out of her by her sister’s attentions. Her limbs were splayed, stretched where they had fallen when she was simply too exhausted to continue, too tired to keep on touching Rarity, too tired to keep screaming. A simple, instinctual conflict tore at her – she wanted to sleep, but if she didn’t, she could play with Rarity anymore.

Ooh. There it was again.

Something cool splashed lazily against her face. It swam over her body, cutting up and under her costume. She shivered. Her face was wet. Her whole body cold and sticky, the wetness of sweat drying, matting her fur and making her costume stick to her. Rarity was wet too - after all she had squirted a lot of that hot liquid that covered her face and stomach and tail and mane–

It was wind.

A slight breeze finding its way into the dark hallway they’d eventually fallen asleep in. Before she knew it, Sweetie Belle was on her hooves. The cool night air felt like dozen gentle hooves gently trailing over her body, teasing her. That was enough to convince her that it was worth being awake.

She wobbled on her hooves. It hurt to stand up, but it was a good hurt, one that made her feel satisfied as she stretched. The suit stretched with her, rubbing taut against her joints. The wind made the fraying fabric brush up against the soaked spot between her hindlegs, a million tiny touches. She grinned widely, her eyes half shut and her head swaying slowly back and forth with her heavy breathing. This suit was the best thing in all of Equestria. Sweetie Belle wanted to string together the words so she could thank whoever made it for her, but it was so hard to think about anything that wasn’t rubbing against another pony’s warm, wet body.

The suit was a lot less fun without somepony touching it, though.

“Rarity,” Sweetie Belle whispered, barely able to make it more than a grunt. Her throat was cracked and dry, her voice sore from screaming in delight for the however-long Rarity touched and licked her all over her body…

Her sister didn’t respond. Rarity was laying ungracefully on the floor. It was very dark in the hallway – a faint yellow-white light from somewhere down the hallway but Sweetie Belle just barely made out the shape of her stomach rising and falling in the darkness. Little half-snores emanated from her sister.

Sweetie Belle leaned in closer, and pushed her sister with her hoof. Her sister’s snore stuttered, but found a rhythm again. Sweetie frowned, and clambered on top of Rarity. She tried again to say her name, but couldn’t find the word. Instead, she bent down and kissed her sister on the neck.

Rarity tasted like sweat and warmth, and Sweetie’s tongue running along her neck sent shivers through her. Her mouth made its way up to Rarity’s lips, and she shoved her tongue into Rarity’s warm mouth. And still, her sister barely stirred. C’mon, Rarity, I want you to do those amazing things with your mouth again. I wanna play with you all night. Please. She tried to make the words come out, but the only sound she made was a broken, inarticulate whine.

The wind blew over her again, and she moaned into her sister’s slack mouth. Breaking the kiss, she climbed off her sister’s stomach and spun in a slow circle, trying to find the source of the chill. Rarity mumbled, and turned over on her side, but Sweetie Belle had already found what she was looking for.

A window in the boutique had been cracked open, and the breeze was flowing gently through. Sweetie Belle stood in front of the window, breathing in the cool air. It sent chills across her soaked, costumed body. Already, she felt a familiar warm, wet trail creep from the spot everypony she met needed to touch and down her hindlegs, running over the dried layers of the same liquid.

The window was right next to the front door, which Sweetie Belle gently pushed open. Slowly, dreamily, Sweetie walked into the cool night air, as it caressed every wet inch of her.

The houses and street lights began to blur. The road names made no sense. Sweetie was still smiling. Being blown this way and that by the gentle breeze - perhaps it wasn’t what her sister had made her feel before, but it felt nice. Through her mane, under her belly, and especially on that bare spot beneath her tail, it felt so nice.

Nothing looked familiar anymore, but Sweetie Belle was still smiling.

She kept walking.