Cold Drinks and Warm Hearts

"That... that... GUY!" cries out a shrill, tomboyish voice from behind me. I don’t need to look back there to know exactly who it is. She’s about as subtle as an exploding train. On a blimp. “J'accuse! I call shenanigans!"

Keeping this glass of sweet apple cider up to my lips is all I can do to not bust my gut laughing. I’m actually creating bubbles in the drink from trying not to. When I can’t keep it in anymore, I set the drink down on the counter and let my large laugh out into my gloved hand.

Big Macintosh looks at me like I’ve got an offensive word written on my head. I look up at him (Way, way, way up, he’s so tall), and try to keep my laughter under wraps. “D-don’t look now, but I, uh, I think one of my trainees just found out who her idol is sweet on.”

Mac smiles and returns to his beverage. Keeping discreet, he slightly turns to look at Rainbow Dash. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her making broad sweeping actions like she’s in a Trotway performance.

“She’ll be okay,” I say. “One of the big reasons I keep her as a Wonderbolts trainee is because she always finds some way to bounce back.” I snicker at an old memory of her missing a few teeth due to an informal meeting with a cliff face. “Emotionally and physically.”

It’d be a shame to waste Hearth’s Warming Eve dwelling on work. After months of talent scouting in Ponyville and its surrounding cities (The talent in Canterlot is weak, Dodge and Appleoosa are nothing but earth ponies...) as well as checking up on Rainbow Dash’s skill set, I haven’t had time to take on an actual, full-on break.

Well, except for the time I’ve spent with the big guy sitting next to me. He has been my only solace throughout all of this workload. And for that, I couldn’t hope to be more grateful. I reach out and touch his beefy hand. It’s twice the size of mine, easily, but I still give it the best affectionate squeeze I can.

Mac is a strange case, in the way that he can say so much by doing so little. It helps that he’s chiller than a snowball in a fridge on a mountaintop. It’s as if he speaks with his heart rather than his mouth. So, what would be annoying and troublesome in any other pony is wonderful and endearing in him. In a way, he and I have grown closer through near silence than most couples would through talking. That’s a feat.

In truth, I hadn’t planned on drinking tonight. Nor do I plan on getting drunk. But it made for a nice excuse to get away from Sweet Apple Acres for a while, see the decorations for Hearth’s Warming Eve… But the primary excuse? I want to loosen up a little to get something off my chest.

One drink will be enough. But here’s the kicker; I’m down to the last sips of cider in my glass. That is my countdown to when I’ll have to fess up.

One hand is holding Big Macintosh’s tight. The other reaches for the glass…

“Captain Spitfire.”

I jump out of my bar stool a little, and my wings flare out from the shock. I turn my head to whoever the hell that was. Ah, it’s that athletically built pegasus colt with spiky hair, and he’s standing at attention, like we’re actually on duty.

“What’s up, Soarin?” I ask.

He shies away a little bit, and I know why.

For being such a stick in the mud, I stand up and give him a friendly sock to the shoulder. “Come on, you. It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve. This is everypony’s day of rest, and I’m seeing a significant lack of resting on your end.”

But, like the stick in the mud he is, he doesn’t relax, and instead opts to continue standing still, like he’s awaiting orders from me or something. But I suppose I can work with that. If he needs orders, I can fill the part. I hop out of my seat, and my internal switch goes from lax and leisurely to captain mode.

“Private Soarin!”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

“You were invited to this party to kick back and enjoy yourself for once in your life and like Tartarus I’m gonna let you get away with not exploiting that privilege!” I place my hands on my hips and lean in close. While by all accounts I’m not all that tall compared to Soarin, these months with Big Mac have acclimatized me to that. Plus, I tower over Soarin in spirit anyway. “Now get back to your booth and order a round or I’ll have you court martialed for having a metal pole up your ass!”

I see his mouth tick a little. “Uh, funny you should say that…” Slowly, he begins to loosen up, finally dropping his shoulders and breathing regularly.

“What do you mean?” I ask, turning off captain mode.

Soarin smiles and gestures back to where I assume the booth is. “I actually met somepony.”

“And?” I raise my brow at him.

He blushes, silently scratching the back of his neck. This is exactly what worried me when I found out he was coming along to this little brouhaha. A typical Wonderbolt dedicate, with his head turned to the sky and not to a decent social life. Honestly, I find his dorkiness to be a bit of a turn-on. I can only hope this certain somepony of his feels the same.

“Captain.” The dork begins to take his leave.

I call out after him, “I expect you to be good and buzzed by the time you leave this place!”

There’s a familiar sensation on my back, one that tells me that Big Mac is watching me. It’s a sort of sixth sense that I’ve developed, what with him being too quiet to say hello most of the time. I turn to him, shrugging at his curious expression. “What?”

“You’re cute when you yell.”

That’s the first thing he’s said all night. And if that’s all he’s gonna say tonight, well, that’d be just fine. “Oh, come on. You know I’m cute no matter what I do.”

“Eeyup.”

Alright, here we go.

I huggle him from the side, nuzzling my snout against his strong neck, then give him a small peck on the cheek. Hopefully that’ll be a teaser trailer of the main event later. Assuming all goes well. But first, there’s something I need to do.

See, there are some things that just have to be said, but they have to be said in the right place at the right time. And there are some things you feel. You might think you feel it, heck, there will be times when you know you feel it. But you can really only recognize the feeling when you’re actually, uh, feeling it.

Long story short, I’ve got a feeling that needs to be put out into the open. And speaking of out in the open…

Still huggling Big Mac, I tap him on the shoulder. “You wanna get out of here, buddy?”

Like the gentlecolt he is, he hands me my aviator jacket.

Mac's eyes widen as he steps away, and in the process he lets me go. His cheeks are a much more intense red than the rest of his body, only made more noticeable by all the snow falling on him. "Huh?" he simply asks.

I retract my eyes a little bit, feeling that small twinge of doubt that now was the right moment to say such a thing. But as I said, I only feel a twinge. I've learned to ignore it whenever it comes up. When you're flying into the heat of battle, an avalanche on one side and a hydra snapping at you on the other, you don't really have time to listen to the small churning in your gut, telling you that you've done something wrong. I don’t need to listen to it here, either, because there is nothing wrong with this moment.

My eyes turn back to Big Mac. He's still wearing his mild shock clear as day and his mouth is entirely flat and closed. I open my mouth and repeat what made him so stunned. "I said, I love you."

He shifts his weight ever so slightly. His adorable blush hasn't faded in the slightest, but he has lost the initial worn shock, which has been replaced with a warm smile. There's something about Big Macintosh that makes him worlds different from any other stallion I've fallen in with. Every sweet, loving or even mildly affectionate gesture he ever shows is like a grand romantic performance out of a ye olde Equestrian folktale. Only, about six times as heartwarming. And these last few months I've spent next to him are proof of that. He has had a lot of stones to win me over, but I get a much stronger gut feeling that he hasn't even been trying.

As his smile gets wider and wider across his chiseled muzzle, I step closer to him. "Do you love me?" I ask.

I assume he takes a moment for his brain to catch up. After what feels like the perfect amount of time, he firmly replies, "Eeyup," and gives an assuring nod.

That was devastatingly simple, and frankly, I’m relieved. I’ve said something I’ve wanted to make the big lug… Nah, my big lug aware of for weeks now. As far as a cheesy romantic story goes, I think I’ve picked a good time and place to say it. Here on an old street in this old town of Ponyville, the snow blanketing the sound of my shuffling feet. I get a little bit closer to Mac. Eyes-forward, I only come up to his pecs. Not that I’m complaining. I look up to his family trademarked field green eyes just in time to receive his hand to my head. He gives my mane a tousle, which makes me all the more thankful I’ve decided to wear it down tonight.

Mac always looks good no matter what he wears or how. After living in the clouds my whole life, seeing all the pegasi with their swept back hair and meticulously combed fur, it’s nice to see a furry stallion. Heck, his whole family is fuzzy. Figures that all he’s wearing is a black shirt and cargo pants, with some cool moccasins over his hooves. Damn him for being so huggable. I trail a finger up his perfectly toned chest before locking my arms around him. He’s broad enough to keep my hands from touching. And, of course, he hugs me back. He’s large enough to crush me without breaking a sweat but he’s far too gentle to know that.

If there is one place I can fully wrap my arms around him, it’s his head. I do so, then stand on the very tip of my combat boots, just barely able to reach his lips with mine. He makes the effort much easier by meeting me halfway. There’s this thing with Mac, though; as much as I love his kisses, as wonderful as they feel, he is just plain goofy at it. It doesn’t help that I have a relatively small muzzle, and his is, well, his. He doesn’t so much meet my lips as he does nom on my face.

I slide my hands down to his shoulders... His perfect, broad, an entire lifetime of hard, sweaty work shoulders. That shirt perfectly accentuates his pecs, geez... You could grind meat on those. I mean, not that you would. Still, I can't imagine how many trees he rocks in one day.

As my fingers carve their way further along his back, I feel a bit of a fantasy coming on. Eh, more of a memory. I remember one of the first times I laid eyes on my Mac. It was near the end of the Summer, during one of Rainbow Dash's trial runs. It was right out of a fairy tail; he was stretching his arms, showing off his strength by knocking every last apple off a tree with a single punch. I remember immediately feeling a bout of sweat coming on... Don't actually recall how the rest of Rainbow Dash's trial went.

I'm about to touch somewhere very dangerous, especially in public, but something even sexier than that stops me. Mac stops the kiss, then nuzzles my cheek. Again, he's surprisingly gentle. But one of his strong, warm breaths catches my ear, and my legs nearly buckle. Damn him... He knows my weak spots so well, he can have me anywhere, any time he wants.

That's it. He got me. I gotta have him now. Like, right now. I reach into my pocket, then show off a certain key to a certain place. In that romance novel I mentioned, it’d be the key to my heart. But Mac already had it when he emptied that wet towel over his bare chest after punching and kicking all those trees… Oh, Celestia…

The key glimmers in the light of the colorful Hearth’s Warming decor. I see that glimmer in my Mac’s eye as he takes my hand. This is the part where he whisks me away into the night, wrapping me in a strong half-embrace and leading me to my apartment.

And he’s only spoken four times tonight.

The only time we have to separate, and this is the moment I dreaded the whole walk here, is when we have to climb the stairs to my apartment. I can only thank Celestia that the trek up the stairs is so brief.

In many ways, moving to Ponyville was an unusual decision, but it has been a solid call for work reasons. I’m able to get out more, the airspace is broader and less restrictive, not to mention less dense with other potential trainees, and if I, the captain, wanna find the real talented fliers out there, I gotta start searching in areas where flying isn’t taught as a basic curriculum.

But, obviously, the greatest benefit to moving to this country town was that it brought me closer to the point where Big Mac’s path and mine intersected. From that point onward, we’ve walked hand in hand. And now we’re here, completely and, dare I say, irreversibly intersected in each other’s lives.

There are two doors here. One is marked with my orange and red lightning bolt, and the other, leading to the unoccupied apartment, is fittingly unmarked. That’s promising. That means Mac and I won’t be waking anypony up, and that means there’s absolutely nothing to suggest this evening will be anything but perfect.

I turn the key in the lock while Mac holds me from behind. I’d have this thing open in a heartbeat but I’m distracted by a very blatant sign that he’s just as pumped for this as I am. I can feel it brushing against my rump. Oh, Macintosh, you naughty boy.

Wait, does he have something in his pocket? Or is that… "Oh. Oh, gosh. Is that really…? You're..."

"Eeyup," he mumbles with a blush.

It’s been a while since we’ve wrestled. I’d nearly forgotten how fantastic he was beneath his denim. It’s not so much the length or the girth; it’s the fact that, well… I’ll explain later. Either way, feeling it brushing me, even through our thick layers of winter clothes, makes my fur catch metaphorical fire.

The lock goes click. "My, my! This just might be the best Hearth's Warming Eve ever!" I open the door. I shoot a sultry glare at my stallion and wink at him. A classic move. “Come inside and get your gift, big boy.”

The state of my apartment, however, is almost enough to kill the mood, as well as how heated I was starting to feel with that… thing brushing against me. Like I said, almost. One would think a captain of an elite flying team would have their place in a better state. My clothes litter the floor, and the kitchen is home to scattered bowls and plates aplenty.

I look at Mac sheepishly as I remove my combat boots and socks. He doesn’t seem to mind the mess. Then again, this is the guy who has had two younger siblings to look after for the better part of his life. He steps inside after me and closes the door. Again, gentlecolt. Then he looks at his hand, noticing how much dust he picked up from the doorknob.

That’s puzzling. I go over past the counter to the kitchen area and run my fingers over the top of my fridge. Yep, that’s a lot of dust. There must be at least a few weeks’ worth of dust in this place...

I realize something as Mac and I share the same face of realization; I’ve been living at Sweet Apple Acres for the past month and a half.

Never really thought about it… Time flies, I guess. After Mac and I decided to keep things going steady, I found myself waking up more often than not to the roof of his room, and over time, the ceiling to my room became the unfamiliar one. Unfortunately, I still had to return to this dump eventually. Ah, well. It’s still my dump.

The option to get out the duster and liberate this place is tempting, but it can wait until I’m entirely sober. And I really can’t wait much longer. I have something, rather, somepony more important to attend to, and he’s… taking his shirt off. “Somepony’s eager,” I remark, getting a simple shrug and smile from the big guy.

Being an athlete, I’m conditioned to be more fond of athletically built stallions. It’s just what I’ve grown up with. As for musclehead bodybuilders, like that minotaur who makes all those self-help videos, I can’t help but find them insufferable. What’s the least bit fun about lugging all that thick? Well, Mac has a body all his own, with subtle curves in all the right places and a perfect blend of fur and definition.

I move away from the kitchen to stand close to my beloved. Reaching out, I feel his pecs again, this time unhindered. Stupid cold weather requires him to wear stupid clothes all the time, so I’m spared this sight far too often. I can’t wait for next summer… Wait… Yeah, I can definitely picture myself with Big Mac half a year from now. No question.

Keeping my touch firmly on his muscles, I move up and kiss him once again. I’m more passionate this time around, since there aren’t any eyes to snoop on us. I throw in a little tongue when his meaty hand lightly gropes my head, brushing through my mane. “Mmm…” He tastes good.

“Fire…” he whispers. He made up that nickname for me on our fourth date. Frankly, I think that’s absolutely adorable. I won’t let anypony else call me that, ever. I remember that date well… We went to see the fourth Daring Do movie. It was just… awful. But I had been too busy making out with Mac in the back seat to care. And then I undid his zipper… Ooh. Idea.

While Mac indulges me with his gentle kiss, I reach behind him, feeling for the door to my bedroom. We both forgoed turning the lights on, plus I’ve got an eyeful of red face blocking my vision, so it’s difficult for me to get a grip on the doorknob. Ah, there it is.

I open the door just a little bit, ‘cause that’s all I need for later. A sort of… investment.

In the meantime, I wanna give my Mac a little show. I’m sure we both can agree he’s been a wonderful lover, and somepony like him should not go so long without seeing this Wonderbolt naked. Reluctantly, I stop touching his pecs and tug at the collar of my jacket. “Couldja help me out of this?”

He nods, and slides his hands underneath my jacket, loosening its hold and letting it slide off my arms all the easier. As it falls to the ground, I notice that it’s gotten a little colder, but also a little hotter. It’s far more exciting when somepony else undresses me, and Big Mac’s soft touch is truly a blessing in that act.

So now I’m down to my white blouse. In hindsight, a t-shirt would have been better. Mac could have just lifted it over my head and we’d be set for revealing my secret, but I had to choose the one with the buttons… But Mac doesn’t see much difficulty. He slips his thumbs underneath and rips the whole thing off without so much as a breath. “Oh,” I say in surprise, letting the blouse join my jacket. And now my combed yellow fur is revealed to him, a fact I relish as I kiss him again. Our naked torsos fit together like drops of water. Well, mostly naked.

I look down at my chest, a little ashamed about my bandages, which restrain my breasts. Yeah, I’m a D-cup, which is by all means nothing to snuff at, but for somepony aiming for perfect flight, breasts of this size tend to get in the way. As such, I have to bind them.

But when Mac gropes me, I don’t feel bad about having such a large chest. I know how much he loves big bazongas over mini maguppies.

For once though, my breasts aren't a big focus. Suddenly getting very excited, Mac is already starting to get my cargo pants off. This stallion sure is eager today, but hey, I'm not gonna argue. I'm just gonna sit back and enjoy every bit of this.

I feel the blood rush to my face when he works the the waistband to my knees. He’s going so slowly, almost as if to tease me. Damn it all, it’s working... He takes his sweet time in getting them down to my ankles, not even taking them off. I wanna moan a little. Y'know, in retrospect, I'm actually really glad that I wore thick black panties today, because if I hadn't, well… Mac would be able to tell exactly how I feel about him right now.

When he finally strips me of my lower garments, I’m left in nothing but my panties and my bandages. Before I can try and act all sexy for Mac, he starts smothering me in kisses again. It’s aggressive the way he goes for me, but I really enjoy this side of him. The soft spoken farm boy, often seen doing nothing but work... Feeling him do some pretty good work on your body is a true fantasy, lemme tell ya.

“You look good, Fire.”

“Not so bad yourself, big boy…” I whisper back. Hearing him call me that name again that makes my mind wander. "I've never really liked the nickname 'Spits,' ya know?"

He shakes his head softly, lazily tracing arcs on my wing joints. I kiss him before grinning cheekily.

"You of all ponies should know it doesn't fit me," I say with a purr, my mouth right next to his ear. "I swallow." He shivers beneath me, his chest heaving as his breath hitches. My wings flare out as he presses his fingers into the base of my wing muscles.

"Eeyup," he declares with as much dignity he can muster. I let out a moan as he trails a few kisses up my neck. Mmm, it’s always fun teasing him, but his teasing is great, too.

It’s time for my investment to pay off. My hands hover over Mac’s chest, fingers wiggling in naughty anticipation. “And, speaking of which…” I shove him. Catching him off guard, he stumbles back through the door to my room. I see his shocked expression turn to one of amusement, and he plays along, letting himself fall back onto my bed.

He sits up as I step in, swaying my hips for him. He’s obviously very pleased to see me, and I’m sure he’s also pleased about the many framed posters that line the walls. Ah, the spoils of the other half of my workload with the Wonderbolts.

I always have found an odd sort of thrill in shooting pinups. It must be the attention. Or perhaps it’s the extra payload. Either way, I find myself drawn to one of my first posters; a fairly tame one, with me holding an assault rifle over my shoulder. I’m wearing a tan jumpsuit, which is undone to my stomach, and I’m without a bra. At least I can be shameless about the twins when I’m posing for a centerfold.

Over the helm of my bed is a more risque pose. I’m wearing my cargo pants and a short-cut tank top, winking at the camera while my fellow Wonderbolts lift weights in the background. Next to that is a rather raunchy shot of me straddling a non-elemental magic missile in nothing but my ceremonial jacket. Soarin sits on another missile, wearing his slacks and boots but no shirt. That was a boost to our female demographic.

Mac’s gaze, as well as mine, travels up to the poster that spans the ceiling. It’s my personal favorite. I’m walking along a cloud in this one, approaching an airborne hot tub. It’s a full shot of my naked back while I peer mischievously to whoever might be looking at me. I’m holding a drape over my ass that reads, ‘Care to join, soldier?’ That one alone bolstered enlistment rates by twenty percent.

“Hot, aren’t they?” I ask Mac.

He nods enthusiastically.

I find the knot that holds my bandages together and begin to pull it loose. My breasts start to show their true size. "And lucky you... You can see the real deal." The bandages come off in a decorative twirl, like I’m in a fancy reneighssance era painting.

Laughing all the while, I leap onto the bed, right into Mac’s glomping embrace. We’re hardly static; I keep tracing kisses along his neck, cheek, and a few on his lips, and I keep wrestling him to be on top. Granted, I’m not averse to the idea of being pinned to the bed while he fucks me senseless, and I’m gonna get to that part, believe me, but for now I wanna see him squirm.

When I say that he loves my breasts, let me be perfectly clear; he worships them. They’re likely the only part of me that he can squeeze with all of his strength without holding back. And he exploits that, groping them fiercely. He runs his muzzle between my cleavage and kisses my nips like they belong to royalty. But Princess Celestia’s bust has nothing on mine, I know that much.

I do everything I can within playfulness to get back on top, but he’s the powerhouse here. He locks one arm around me and presses me into the mattress. I can feel his girth against my legs as he nuzzles me. Welp, it seems like I’m gonna be the submissive one tonight. Wait a minute... Ah, my legs! I bring them both around Mac’s torso and force him off of me, at the same time bringing myself around to get on top of him.

“You stay right there,” I say, both menacingly and sultrily. He plays along, even though I know he knows he could have me at his mercy in a second. It’s the unusual mix of danger and serenity that makes my loins flush with nectar.

I turn around on him, splaying myself across the whole length of his large body. By all accounts, he could swipe my panties right from my legs and go to town on my clam, but he knows better than that. Why? I hate being licked. It ain’t right. At least in my book.

But Big Mac, well… He’s a different story. I know how much he loves my mouth on his body. I kiss his belly, then his pelvis… Any lower and he’ll be in heaven. But first, I have to emancipate him from these cargo pants.

While I undo the button and zipper, Mac sees fit to make this as difficult as possible by groping my ass, kneading what little flab I have. Emphasis on little. The prepubescent kids who masturbate to my posters keep sending me Hearth’s Warming sweets. What am I supposed to do? Not eat those? The same questions go for Mac’s special friend buried beneath his boxer-briefs. It becomes much more visible now that I’ve pushed his pants further down his legs. I can actually see it bulging, nearly making the existence of his underwear meaningless. He’d need to double up to keep his pride under wraps. Not that I’d let him.

I admit defeat to Mac’s ministrations on my flank. He wants to get a handful of me? Well, I can counter that attack. I slip my hands underneath his cloth, usher it down to join the pants and… jackpot.

I can’t stress this enough; I love Mac’s cock. I don’t care if I sound like a slut or the deacon of some sort of depraved penis church. Mac’s thick, long, black dick and I have a special relationship, one that cannot be comprehended by simpler minded ponies. Then again, get to know a stallion in bed for long enough and you begin to know his stallionhood. I sure do with Mac’s. I know its likes, dislikes, and just exactly how to touch it.

Mac stops touching me when I grab ahold of his dick with both hands (Trust me, I need both) and give him a good long stroke. For being so large, it, like the rest of my coltfriend, is very sensitive. It twitches, obviously excited to feel my touch once again. I keep pleasing Big Mac’s big cock with more slow and proper strokes, smiling at the sound of his deep and quiet moans. I must be good to make him call out my name. “Ah, Fire…”

“Yes, baby, you like this. I know.” Those are the last words out of my mouth before I decide to indulge myself a little bit more. I ask again; what am I supposed to do? I’m not about to forget how much Mac loves it when I kiss the head of his thick cock. And he likes it even more, dragging the covers in approval, when I flick the tip with my tongue, and let it pass my lips.

If there’s one thing Mac loves me for, it’s my blowjobs. And, frankly, I rather like giving them. There’s something so satisfying about being in complete control over a stallion with only my mouth. I can feel every vein and pulsation of his pride against my tongue and gums. Needless to say, with a decorated history of bedfellows, I’ve gained a lot of experience in the art of sucking dick.

Even with my mouth around his shaft, I can still find enough room to pump it, coaxing little delicious globs of precum onto my tongue. I also take time to softly fondle his testicles. It’s just a little treat for me and him.

A lot of minutes pass as I switch between fondling, licking, sucking and stroking my special friend, and as they pass I can feel Mac getting more and more restless. Of course he is. His dick is like warm coal at this point. I’m surprised he’s held on so long for me. But I can only guess he wants my Hearth’s Warming present to be a big one.

I stroke him quickly, running my fingers over every inch of him. “You can cum if you want, buddy. Let it all out.”

I can feel his tension disappear. Clearly he’s been holding it in, waiting for my approval. But I know what’s gonna happen now. It’s the mutual reward for a wonderful blowjob.

As his stream hits the back of my throat, I let out a small moan of excitement. His seed fills my mouth with a surprisingly refreshing and pleasant taste. A little bit of his cum leaks out of the corner of my mouth. Mmm, there’s a lot of him tonight! Even when he’s entirely finished, I don’t bother to take his stallionhood out of my mouth. I just swallow his big load, lips on dick and all. I felt a little tingle in my special place as my Mac tilts his head back and let out a satisfied sigh.

Another dollop of him passes my lips onto his still erect cock. Goddesses, so much of it... It takes me a few gulps to get it all down. Even the aftertaste isn't half bad. It at least warrants giving him another long, strong lick to clean up the rest of his seed. I never let a job go incomplete.

I rise up, still straddling Mac’s chest. He has a full view of my naked back, but I change that view to that of my breasts and longing eyes. I rest my hands on each side of his head and simply smile at him. And he smiles back at me. “You’re beautiful,” he says.

Does he have any idea how warm that makes me feel? A poet could comprise an entire album of words in confession of my beauty but it would mean nothing compared to the words of this quiet farm boy, because he only speaks when he feels something needs to be said.

A little nod of his queues me to dive in for our most intimate kiss of the night, so close that I can see and feel the individual fibers of his coat. While his movement is minimal, aside from holding me closer to him in his mighty clutch, I’m the one who grinds him, mashing my breasts against his bare chest and fondling his cock between my legs. It’s a good thing my legs are so powerful, or I’d never be able to handle him.

While one of Mac’s hands stays firmly on my back, occasionally massaging the bridge between my wings and making me moist, the other sees fit to travel. His meaty fingers slide beneath my panties. I know what’s on his mind right now. It’s been hard for me too, waiting for the only thing that could bring us closer together.

I join him in the effort to do away with my panties, helping him slide them down my legs. I bend my knees and take over the job when my underwear goes out of his reach. When they reach my calves, I decide to take the lazy approach and kick ‘em off. They can land in another dimension for all I care; all that matters to me is being completely nude, snuggling my beloved Mac. I trace some sort of figure into his pecs to the rhythm of his breath passing my ear.

His eyes widen very slightly, as if he forgot something. “Oh.”

Evidently, he did forget something. Before I can get comfortable using his washboard chest as a bed, however, he moves a little, reaching out to my dresser. He opens the very top drawer and searches beneath my shirts for a certain something. His smile becomes larger as he conjures up two XL Centurions. Ah, the only rubber that’s enough to contain him.

So it’s within good reason for him to look surprised when I take both those packages and toss them into the same place of who-cares as my underwear. “You don’t need those tonight,” I reassure him. “I started taking something.”

No, I’m not one of those immature brats who just says that so they can have a kid. I’m at the height of my career, baby. I’m not about to throw that away with some stupid lie. Granted, having a child with Mac… Well, that’s something I can imagine happening. Eventually. But for now, I just want some good, old fashioned, all-Equestrian fun.

Now Mac just looks devious, knowing he can just let loose. I remember in the past, whether I was on top, underneath, on the front porch, in the barn, in the park, at work, uh, I’m getting off topic… I always had a feeling that he was holding back, for one reason or another, but the other day I decided to try something new. It’s just as much for me as it is for him, and he knows that; he bends his knees, scooching up and further sandwiching his pride between my upper legs. I can feel our heat colliding. I swear, you could cook hayfries beneath my cooch right now. I mean, not that you would…

I’ve lost my train of thought because the head of my special friend is knocking at the door, rubbing against my lips. I rub back with a roll of my hips, keeping him firmly pressed against me. “Don’t pull any punches, okay?” I whisper, my breath heavy with want.

I don’t wait for Mac to respond before I let him inside. Slowly, almost stressfully, his girth fills my insides. I can feel all of him in my walls. Even after months, I still feel so tight around him. It’s almost a perfect match. I gasp as I feel him throb within me.

“Oh Goddesses, you feel good.” That was only a preview and I still can’t comprehend how nice it was. I rake through the fur of Mac’s chest, sliding myself down his shaft until the pressure tells me I can’t go any further. If I let him inside any more, I could seriously mess something up. I almost welcome it.

So here we are, merged in body and heart. The ultimate bond. All that’s left is to decide who is going to hump who. Tenderly rubbing Mac’s pelvis, I ask him, “How good was I at sucking your giant dick, baby?”

The little squeeze of my tush and the grin he gives me are enough of an answer.

“Good. Then… then I think it’s fair that you return the favor.” I shudder as I rise, making room for him to thrust inside with all of his strength. “I want you to please me.”

And like the amazing lover that he is, he agrees wholeheartedly, pumping into me. He keeps his torso entirely still, allowing me to hold on for dear life and just surrender to each mighty thrust of his. I don’t have to do much to meet him; he presents enough power for both of us to enjoy the ride, but I do help the experience ever so slightly by gyrating my hips, drenching his beautiful dick in my nectar. I’m surprised my panties, wherever they are, weren’t soaked through when I did away with them.

It doesn’t take too much time of Mac pushing into me before my voice is lost to moaning. I can’t help it. I can’t stay composed while my cheeks and pussy burn for my love’s passion and power. Even as he dedicates everything he has to making me his mare, and giving me all I could ever want from him, he still keeps those field green eyes glued on me, like I’m his whole world. He doesn’t sully the issue with dirty words; I could never imagine him doing anything like that. All he ever needs to be is himself.

When he pauses and takes a few heavy breaths, I’m filled with such want for him that I start fucking myself on his rock hard shaft, rolling my hips to my own breath. “Oh, baby~…”

But he denies me the pleasure for just a little bit longer, grappling me by my waist and turning over, taking me with him. It’s a good thing my bed is so soft, or else it might have actually hurt when I hit it. I look up at Mac in a bit of confusion but his calm demeanor, for the record, convinces me to go along with this.

“Heh. Alright, come here…” I say, watching with great fascination as he takes his position, looming over me like some grand, muscular ceiling. To anypony else, this’d be intimidating, and for good reasons. Mac lowering himself over me, for an instant, feels like being crushed. But because I trust him and have already given myself away to him entirely, I know he wishes nothing more to be soft and tender, at least in regards to how he holds me. He’s all a rigid stallion elsewhere. “Come on, give it to me…”

With one fell thrust, he pierces me with no hesitation whatsoever. That’s how you can tell we work so well together. It’s like dancing, in the way that our movements coincide, there’s a lot of sweat, and we’re probably gonna feel really tired after we’re done.

“Mmmma…. Oooh… Aaah…” A while ago he was so thick and solid inside of me, and while that’s still the case, I’ve poured out for him so much that I’ve coated his shaft in my nectar. There’s so little resistance between my pussy and his thick cock. Big Mac… You are truly worthy of your namesake. I should count myself so lucky to have your cock. But I do, so that’s that. “Ah, oh, for fuck’s sake…” I only say that because there’s still a lot of disbelief that I found the perfect stallion.

Mac kisses me again and returns to his epic thrusts. I’m treated to a musky scent carried in the sweat of his chest and abs. He smells of grass and flowers, two scents I never cared for until I got to know him. My head was quite literally in the clouds back then… I’m getting a whisk of that feeling again as me rams into me. I remember when he showed me his secret garden behind his favorite apple tree. It’s a garden of every flower I can think of, and he gave me his rarest; a naturally grown blue rose.

And speaking of roses… “Aaaah, OH! Oh, baby…” His muzzle passes over my mane, and I inhale that scent of flowers in tandem with a powerful moan. I try to keep control of my bucking hips. No good. In doing that, I’m massaging his thighs and ass with my own legs. It’s like I’m begging for more. Ah, to hell with it. Might as well. “Oooh, you beautiful fucking farmboy… Yes… Give it to me…” I murr for him louder and louder each time his cock graces my walls.

He leans to the side, only enough to slow down a little bit and extend his arm down the length of my thrashing body. “Baby… what are you—” And then Big Mac is touching my clit. “OOOH! Ah, what the fuck… You can’t just… Oh, you son of a bitch…” I say all of that with a smile on my face. My hooves stretch out uncontrollably, though that’s the extent of what I can feel beyond the blood in my cheeks and the nerves of my nethers calling out and leaking for him.

And that’s where he fucks me over the edge. He rams into me with every last amount of energy he’s been holding in for me. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again; there’s no restraint in him tonight. His pride is so hard, so hot… For once, I don’t just feel like he’s making love to me, I feel like he’s becoming one with me. Like there’s some untapped reservoir of love for me brought on by… something… This has to be from me saying I love him. Unless, there’s something else… Something amazing, something beautiful, something, oh, something, oh, fuck. Fuck. So good. Give it to me, Mac, come on, yes, yes, yes. Cumming. YES.

I clasp his cheeks and look him dead in the eyes. They’re glazed over. He hasn’t looked away from me or blinked this whole time. “Don’t you dare pull out, don’t you dare, oooh… Inside, fuck, yes, cum inside me…”

His warm love for me takes liquid form, coating my insides in a tidal burst. I can’t imagine any of it dripping out, I’m so tight around him… I hiss and tense up at his second wave, yet the third brings me to a relaxing breath of relief and serenity. I could not be any more satisfied. Hell, even if I never had that orgasm, I would have been happy anyway, just being with my Mac… He’s still cumming. I might just overflow. Oh, who am I kidding, I’m already overflowing, just with something other than seed.

And now there’s that awkward moment between us, stiff and still in our post-orgasm positions. Aside from the occasional twitch or garbled moan, its only a matter of waiting until one of us comes down. And fortunately for me, it seems that the stallion towering over me decides to relax his muscles first.

I take advantage of Mac’s small moment of weakness (He still hasn’t blinked) and press up against him, then force him onto his side. We’re equal again, in a mutual lovers’ caress, with nopony overpowering another. It’s time for us to share this bed as a couple… Though with any luck, I’ll wake up in the middle of the night, horny, wet and still rarin’ to go. Mac never says no to me when that happens.

Our breaths merge once again as we lie muzzle to muzzle. I rest my hand on his thick neck and plant one more kiss against his strong lips. I continue to lazily stroke his blonde mane and stare dreamily as I reach down, grab the covers and pull them over. So much stallion contained within a mighty hunk of an equine. I’m the luckiest mare in the freakin’ universe.

Heh, he’s still hard inside of me… I don’t plan on doing anything with that, but mashing my pelvis against his clues him in that I don’t want him to remove that thing. I want to remain as close as possible to him tonight.

But there’s just one thing this night is missing. I say quietly to my Mac, “Hey… I wanna hear you say it, just once.”

He tilts his head up from his pillow. Apparently he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Silly boy.

“You know what I mean, buddy…”

His eyes dart around a little bit before he finally blinks, a smile coming to his muzzle. Now he gets it. In that wonderfully soft, deep voice of his, I hear him say, “I love you, Fire.”

There you go.