Five Dances in Dreamland

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Black waters. Before birth, beyond death. The wombdark.

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Life. A stir. Breaths. Deep breaths. Air. Cogito. A hand.

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You still live, no?

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You laid yourself back onto the ground and looked up at her.

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Know I her? Yes, that one. Childlike and motherly she. She staring off somewhere. The distance was fog, and mountains there, haze, and the sun glowing afar far off across.

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Hair of rose, like skin, and water, it fell upon her shoulders and shined. She wore something. She sat plump spilling forms all around, voluminous, pink flesh. A sweater. She sitting in the grass. A skirt.

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They upon the grassy hill, mighty god mountains like ocean waves watching all around.

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She said something.

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Still they there ever sat. Still. Among the mountains there. And in the still abyss. Breathing the mindwaters.

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She laid herself back next to you. You and she looked up and stared. Blue. Grey. Sky and ocean forever. On and on the unity of that blue morning night.

Not a sound. Nor word. In that tender silence you and she.

You turn your head to hers. Her pink head to yours. Eyes curious. Staring. Wondering.

You yearn to put your head to hers, to drink up the desires of her mind and know them.

And your heart begins.

Her arm rested on the ground, beneath her full breasts. Her palm face down. That hand right before you. Her soul overflowed, and spilled from those fingertips.

What shall I do?

Yes,

Who then shall move first?

Your hands ache to move. Your lips, arms, legs, your flesh drowning in the foamy waiting. Bubbles popping in the stillness. The silence waits.

Your hand breaks free. Hers is so far. A finger brushes hers. Her body jumps. Your soul boils. Hands resting against each other. You and she frozen in the burning. Her fingers stir and. They curl around yours and.

Then:

the sweet,

righteous,

glorious...!

Twilight Sparkle blinked. She clenched the hand that held hers. I know who this is. She stared into the eyes in front of hers—Fluttershy's—big green emeralds. That's right, the trip. The picnic—the eclipse. We must be here now. Like trees, they beneath towering flower green stalks, towering flowers, beneath the backlit rosy shadows of the nectar petals. A dream? Morning dew beads on bobbing grass blades wet her clothes. I can feel? The warmth of the rising summer sun pressed against her back. So bright.... How am I still asleep...?

Fluttershy clenched Twilight's hand back. The cool beating life skins pressed together. Love hands. Lover hands. Twilight lifted her heavy head forward, face forward to Fluttershy's white. Her smooth white under pink, staring from green—her head inched for Twilight's. Twilight felt her own lips there, quiet morning air, ocean waves, brushing against her fatty red petals—she gazed into Fluttershy's, dolce, pink, pursed. Their eyes fluttering, quivering, trembling shut. Twilight's head still inched forward, there suspended, still touching nothing.

Then, the brush, the moist, the numb of another's lips. Lips not hers. An other's lips. Moist, gummy, pressing, weak and unsure. Twilight brought her shaking, tingling arm up over around Fluttershy's shoulder, wrapped it around her head, pressed it towards her against hers. She gum-pressed smatched her lips on Fluttershy's upper. Fluttershy tried the same. They both tried to switch back. Twilight wrapped her lips around Fluttershy's upper again, Fluttershy found her place, and the girls learned all the steps together, how to smack together. Like eating each other. Hungry mouths smothering one another together. Hungry, wet, saliva love—physical, worldly love.

Fluttershy opened her hungry mouth further, she slip squeezed her tongue out from her lips and poked between Twilight's pursed. You greedy... Twilight widened her shaky lips and let her slide in. Fluttershy's little snakey nub poked around, looking—Twilight's tongue, her whole mouth seized up, frozen, tingling, unsure—she tried moving her tongue around somewhere—Fluttershy's found it, sliding around over it, then latch-wrapped around it—Twilight understood; she tried wrapping back; she tried licking it, lick-mixing their spit together, tasting each other, tongues dancing. Fluttershy pulled her tongue back a bit into her own mouth; she went back to omming Twilight's mouth in writhing, agape lip contortions. Twilight gave it back to her, eating up Fluttershy's open mouth of stretchy-squishy lips. She shoved Fluttershy's tongue back, back into her mouth; she wrestled it down and around; she coiled herself around it, strangled it. Then it broke the sticky, smacky silence—a moan—a muffled moan—"mhhng!"—Fluttershy's darling hungry moan—her quiet cooing moan—

Twilight pushed with her other arm off the ground, trying to shove Fluttershy's big body over—she resisted, still trying to munch on Twilight's mouth—Twilight started to roll over on top of her—she understood and rolled over on her back under her. Twilight buried her face in Fluttershy's mouth and they both together ate each other up. She lifted her hand up from the ground and brought it to Fluttershy's breast—she stuffed it into the squishy mound of sweater—Fluttershy took another solo—muffled—"mmmpf!"—Twilight rubbed, squeezed, kneaded, trying to find what Fluttershy would enjoy—she brought up her other hand to the other breast and tried to do the same.

Fluttershy tried to grab at her sweater—she pulled—then started to try to nudge Twilight away—Twilight muffled—"Mph...?"—she got it, then pulled herself away from her face—a string of sparkling saliva hung between. Fluttershy grabbed the end of her green sweater and pulled it up—rolled it up over her breasts—pulled her head out of it—She just had a white bra underneath. Fluttershy pulled her arms behind her back to undo it, as Twilight reached back to do the same—Fluttershy stopped to let Twilight do it—Twilight's fingers fumbled around blind behind, rolling over her sticky sweaty pink skin. Twilight's little heart pounded—big paining tympanum drum beats—she heaved out her quick quiet breaths, laying there squishing atop the full, rolling hills of her body. Twilight still searched around with her hands. Fluttershy reached her arms back behind her back, tried to nudge at Twilight—Twilight persisted; Fluttershy stopped to let Twilight continue.

Twilight stopped fidgeting, she let out a gasp and fell back into Fluttershy's body—Fluttershy reached her arms back again; she undid the hooks herself; she pulled the straps over out from under her back—then Twilight pulled Fluttershy free from her shoulder straps. Just the cups hung there on her breasts. They just sat there, rippling puddles. Twilight stared at them; Fluttershy stared at Twilight. They both reached for them, then stopped. They reached again, stopped, then Twilight went ahead and grabbed the cups, and peeled them away from Fluttershy's watery white skin, leaving pale marks under them. Her big pink nipples popped out and stared up at Twilight, who finished pulling the white cups all the way off those breasts—they jiggled—then tossed the bra to the grass.

Twilight stared at them, holding herself up with her arms on the grass. Her mouth hung the slightest bit open. She looked back to Fluttershy's burning red face. Then she buried herself in again, munching on her mouth, throwing in quick tongue licks—they both with quiet moans. She pulled her arms up from the grass and on to Fluttershy's white sweaty breasts—she massaged, kneaded; she pressed her nipples in, flicked, tickled them—Fluttershy squeaked—she pulled her face away and dropped her head to the side, eyes shut, biting her lower lip. Twilight pulled herself down to Fluttershy's breasts as she touched them. She inched forward—just a bit—stopped—again—then gave a nipple a quick lick—Fluttershy squeaked again, louder. Twilight opened her mouth and wiggled her tongue back and forth over the nipple—Fluttershy let out a long, strained, quivering moan.

Twilight clenched her legs together, rubbed them together, with Fluttershy was already writhing beneath her. She noticed she herself wore jeans—Fluttershy in her brown skirt—she wrapped one clothed leg around Fluttershy's bare—she rubbed herself on it as she tried to keep licking her nipple; her legs and feet writhed, contorted around; Twilight got Fluttershy's naked leg all the way between her jeans; she rubbed on it, dug herself into it, feeling of herself already soaked in her own dew. She pulled one arm away from Fluttershy's breasts, brought them down to her leg, touched her naked thigh—Fluttershy jumped—she threw her head up and looked over at Twilight. Twilight brought her whole palm onto and around Fluttershy's thigh—she rubbed it a little—brought her hand up and down it, rubbing circles over it—she brought it higher up.

Fluttershy tried to sit up from under Twilight—she tried to reach a hand out to stop her. Twilight didn't budge—she looked into her eyes—she rubbed herself harder on Fluttershy's leg—she stared back into her, mouth barely open. She gave up, fell back to the ground. Twilight dug her crotch into Fluttershy's knee—in slow rhythm she rubbed herself—she shut her eyes, let out louder and louder moans.

Twilight felt a wave in herself. She dug in harder. Then, there, the storm hit Twilight—she laid there above the nothing in the midst of the crashing waves—body twitching and contorting in the dark—jeans flooded. She opened her eyes—the grass began to fade into a black fog—Fluttershy too—they disappeared. Her heart froze. Her eyes darted around. Even she began to fade, she tried to feel around with her hand amidst the storm, looking for Fluttershy, but she couldn't give her back what she had stolen from her.

Then Twilight realized—she looked back up—in her hand there, clenched, was Fluttershy's hand, shrouded in the fog, wet with an ocean of dew and sweat. Twilight's first hand. Their first hands. Twilight leaned forward, and as her mind pulled away, she found in the darkness Fluttershy's invisible lips, and they kissed themselves away.