Getting Braeburned

It all sounds like something out of a silly 60s pop tune, but it's true: you find yourself running out as fast you can. Somehow without stumbling over, Braeburn and you manage to hold on to one another's hand (or hoof). You try to get away in the still early morning, tossing open the doors to the ancient barn. You hear something click behind you, feeling satisfied that there's no other way in. Darkness drips all through the empty space with just a few strands of sun darting every which way.

You put your arms around him, and you both stumble to the ground, hay flying everywhere. You drink in that handsome face of his, better than usual with the messy hair all tossed about mixed in the hay. A shot of sunlight lights him up like an angel, your angel. You hold him a little tighter as you whisper, "I think we're alone now."

"There doesn't seem to be anyone around," he says back, shifting himself down with his vest opening up.

"The beating of our hearts is the only sound," you whisper. You reflect for a second the oddity of this being 'our song', thinking back to how much you miss your old iPod that Twilight Sparkle had confiscated for Canterlot-based analysis. Braeburn loved playing with it before the battery started to drain. You press against his chest, and you feel his heart going just as crazy as your s.

Braeburn lets out a cute little groan. You find that you've already, without even thinking, moved your hands under his vest and massaged them down his throbbing colthood. You look back at each other, love almost dripping from his eyes, and you kiss once more. Your hands stroke up and down his rod, forcing his body through sudden spasms of pleasure. You make out once more, falling totally into his embrace. You can't believe how wonderful those hooves of his feel against your arms.

Something between your legs starts to feel really jealous. You feel Braeburn's own colthood pressed up against your shorts, and you can't take it for one second longer. You break the kiss as you rip down your shorts and briefs, tossing them on the patch of muddy hay besides you. Your naked half presses all against Bareburn's thighs, and you feel these tingles going up all up your sides.

Braeburn's own hooves curl down your shirt, pulling it up slowly. You almost grit your teeth at the sensations, the contrast between his rough, coarse hooves and your softer chest and belly driving you out of your mind. Braeburn moves the shirt around the back of his back, and you kiss him all over, moving from lips to neck to cheeks to chin and onward.

He suddenly stops you, and he says, "Ah got an idea..." You just nod. You gaze as he slinks left and right, his vest and hat dropping off to your feet. He kicks himself back, even more hay fluttering around his sweaty yellow body. You smile as he fits your shirt on. He reaches up and tries his best to fit your baseball cap onto his flowing golden locks. You curl his raggedy cowpony vest on your naked body, surprised at how well it fits. Stretchy...

You giggle as Braeburn knocks his hind hooves down into your shorts. He pulls it several feet up, stopping as his huge colthood and fuzzy tentacles stick out from the open fly. You both smile at each other before you place his cowpony hat on your head, moving with phony grace and preciousness as if you're crowning yourself with regal honors.

"Ready to get bucked, partner?" you say, curling your eyebrow and digging your front right hand into the ground just like he would. Braeburn laughs. "It's what we do in these here parts, little mista hooman." You laugh yourself at the drawl you put on.

"Like, go for it, brah," he says back, rubbing his hooves absentmindedly against your huge black shirt and scratching his hoof against the side of his face just like you would.

You don't know why, but you've never seen a greater turn on, and you know you never will. The whole scene makes you feel hard as a diamond, and Braeburn's thing looks just the same. Still, something bugs you in the back of your mind. You glance around in the barn, eyes bouncing from empty box of tools to empty barrallels to rusted, old carts to the butter churn in the corner.

"You know, I've never..." you mutter, mind racing as you feel a pang of hesitation once again, "been with... another guy..." Or with a pony, for crying out loud! You feel a lump in your throat. "Getting the parts to... fit..." You feel so naughty and wrong even saying those words.

Butter!

You suddenly get up and walk over to the churn. You drag it over to Braeburn's spot as he waits, panting ever so softly and mouth open in suspense. Damn, he looks more handsome every second. You yank the top off and rub the delicious creamy stuff all over your hands. It soon goes all over your arms and chest, but you couldn't care less. You glance over at Braeburn's colthood, lined up perfectly on top of that big three-color mod symbol on your shirt he's wearing.

You hop forwards and pounce on him. Your dripping wet hands slide up and down Braeburn's rod. He moans and moans, tingles of pure joy coursing through him as you twist your fingers around. He leans his head down and bites the top collar. You feel pretty dizzy almost, your hands starting to move like machines without any real control from you.

You start pumping along his shaft pretty fast. He's breathing hard, and you find yourself leaning over with your face lined up right above the head of his colthood. He simply nods before biting harder against the shirt. You stare a little at Braeburn's thing, pre-cum pooling out at the end. Your subconscious mind screams at you how a good straight kid would never even dream of this moment. I guess there's... no turning back... You close your eyes.

*Slurp*

Ripples of what feel like electricity move through every inch of your body. Braeburn's own rancher's scent of savory apples, his almost sweet, gooey pre-cum, and the delicious butter slipping everywhere all combine to give you the smell and taste of a lifetime. You smother his colthood with kisses, your tongue moving all around the head and starting down the shaft.

Braeburn rewards you with a crescendo of huge moans. His hooves smack against your skin, rubbing up and down in total abandonment. You keep on kissing his rod, and you feel each other locking into an even tighter embrace. Braeburn shifts his head over and begins putting his own kisses onto your neck. You slurp over and over again, wondering if you'll really go for it.

Braeburn finally digs his hind hooves into the hay. He pushes you down against him, with your own pulsing thing between your legs now rubbing up against his balls. You go ahead and push your mouth forward, taking in all of the tip of his colthood. You can barely take it, trying not to gag and feeling as if you can barely even breathe.

The move causes Braeburn to scream. He litters kisses all over your neck as you keep on sucking. Your hands keep on twisting about his rod, butter now coating all over both your bodies. You slurp up his pre-cum, and you feel his body start to shiver and contort.

You can hardly take even a few inches of him in your mouth for another second, so you lift your head up and rub your tongue across his shaft. Your hands pump faster along and begin squeezing. Braeburn seems to be going into another world, his eyes glazing over and his body buckling. You swing your hands along his shaft as fast as you possibly can as you give the head one last sloppy kiss.

He calls out, making a gigantic grunt. Sticky goop fills the inside of your mouth and pools around your lips. You lock eyes with him as he makes a torrent of pants. You see through his eyes, the stab of pure pleasure straight through his mind taking Braeburn to paradise. He suddenly looks back at you. You throw your face against his.

*Smooch*

He wraps his hooves against the back of your head, and you do the same with your hands. Gooey stuff drips in between your mouths. You've never seen this outside of some especially kinky porn films, but now you know why they do it. Feeling him lap up his own seed, knowing that you're sharing it with him with total abandonment, and sensing that there's no longer any separation between the two of you... it all feels too much.

You shift your legs about. Your own rod, desperate for attention, rubs up against Braeburn's. A warm sensation shoots right through you. You make a little whine, sounding almost like a lonely, abandoned kitten. Braeburn suppresses a laugh, knowing how embarrassingly feminine you sound right now. He rubs his body backward, hay now coating all over him.

"Ah ain't gonna leave you hangin', not without me more than returnin' the favor, partner," he says, and a nervous look goes over his face.

You gaze, heart somehow beating even faster than before, as Braeburn slides the shorts down his hind hooves. He flicks his hooves up. He wiggles his tail up around his plot, the fluffy golden-brown thing seductively curling along between his legs. Your eyes narrow like a lazer beam down along Braeburn's body to his flanks. You take a deep breath as you stare at the thing you've never seen before: Braeburn's small, puffy tailhole. You bite your lip.

You reach to the side, pulling over the churn besides you. Butter coating everywhere between your legs and all along your hands once again, you position yourself right atop the stallion. Your hands run down from his balls to his tailhole. I'm... I'm going all the way, now. That's it. This is it. Your left hand delicately cups around his balls as your right hand hesitates.

You close your eyes, breathing stopped, and you nudge a few fingers inside. It's Braeburn's turn to squeal like a girl. You push the fingers a little deeper. He pants loudly, jiggling his body left and right. You pull your fingers out, and you open your eyes again. You glare at your butter-soaked, but otherwise normal-looking fingers.

You shift around your knees, now lined up perfectly. You take a gulp. Both Braeburn and you shiver with nervousness. You rest your hands against his chest, heaving hard.

"I love you," you say, without thinking.

*Thrust*

You can't even being to explain the pleasure. You press forward, inch by glorious inch, until you find yourself totally inside him, flesh to flesh. You throw your mouth open, and you moan uncontrollably. You sense something like thousands of rippling sparkles popping off inside your mind. You buckle down, face to face with the stallion.

You drink in his handsomeness. You can't help but cry. You've never felt so happy in your entire life. His little breathes, sounding off like a jackhammer, just seem so cute. You pull out slowly, hands thoughtlessly rubbing all across Braeburn's body and stopping at the base of his colthood.

You shove yourself forwards again. You pump back and forth. You slip into another world, something pure and something animal. You can't bear to just gaze at Braeburn's perfect face one second longer, and you give him a passionate kiss. One kiss becomes another, then another, and another still. Your rod moves deeper and deeper, somehow, into his tender body.

You make out with hands and hooves exploring all over. He shoves his tounge as far as he can into your mouth, and you return the favor. If you could think, you'd marvel at the crazy scene: a six foot three man dressed in a cowpony vest and hat rutting a five foot long stallion wearing a baseball cap, The Who shirt, and Dockers Shorts. Of course, you can't think at all. You're going by pure instinct, giving yourself into the endless waves of pleasure.

Whether it's the kissing, your hands along his colthood, his hooves along his chest, or your thing nestled inside his plot, you know that you'll lose it any second now. He can feel it two, and he tosses his hind hooves against your back. The pulses build up deep inside you. You throw your hands against his front hooves, fingers digging deep into his fur. You lean your head back, and you give that one last kiss: something sweet and almost innocent, like a husband and wife kiss.

Time stops. Your mind sails away to heaven for a while. You immediately find yourself back in an Appleoosa barn, flipping your body to the side. You blink. Everything goes white for a second.

*Clang*

"Wait, what the hell is going on?" you yell out. You hear loud knocking, and the sound of metal clicking against wood. You reflexively stand back up. You throw your right hand in front of you eyes. Oh, no... oh... NO! NO!

"Braeburn, what in Celestia's name have you," Truffle begins, slamming her portly green plot against the side barn door, "Been... doing..." She curls her head over and takes a good look at the two of you, now totally bathed in sunlight.

Your eyes flicker around the older mare's face, her short white mane frozen in place from shock and her eyes as big as dinner plates. You glance back at Braeburn, white and yellow goo dripping across his plot onto your shorts that he's wearing. You look down at yourself, naked except for Braeburn's vest, hat, and a very pained, forced smile.

"Good... morning..." you say. Truffle remains motionless, and Braeburn just shakes his head. The two ponies and you look out behind Tuffle at a white unicorn hopping up all of a sudden.

"Darling, I simply said that I had to meet Twilight's unusual new friend post-haste," she says, eyes closed as she steps into the barn, "I also need to relay the... news..." She opens her eyes, facing right at you. Your eyes dance around the white unicorn, her flowing blue mane fluttering in the wind.

You cough nervously, still not sure what to say. I've seen her before, haven't? She's the naggy friend of Twilights. Rarity? The girl that Twilight's pet dragon is boinking, or so his diary said...

"If you please excuse me," Rarity snaps, irritation coursing through her face as he twirls her head, "I'll be waiting at the house until you two are presentable." She lays on the venom with that last word.

"Oh, for Celestia's sake," you scream out, walking over as you hold Braeburn's hat in front of your junk, "You're with a dragon." You shake your fist in the air as Rarity walks off through the field, doing her best to ignore you. "You're screwing a cold-blooded reptile! At least Braeburn and I are both MAMMALS!" You see Rarity holding her hooves over her ears.

You turn back, seeing Braeburn holding Truffle. She seems to have gone into shock, her face totally immobile. You swing your head around while touching your chest. Braeburn gets the picture, and he tosses you over your clothes.

The next few frantic moments involve you both picking up Truffle, moving her to a nearby trough, and splashing water across her face. She snaps right back to normal in a second. Surprisingly, she spares you both a lecture. You lean down, holding Braeburn against your side as the old mare simply walks off towards the house and mutters curses under her breath.

"Not exactly the happy ending I was looking for," you mutter, shoving your hands into your pockets. Braeburn rubs a hoof against your leg. You lean down.

"Next time," he says. He gives you a sweet kiss on the cheek. "Ah'll see ya'll in mah own room."

You smile.

The End